Great to meet you, Woundedpuppy!

I'll reiterate, I don't think anything  is wrong with this fetish, for want of a better word but I understand why it has such a stigma and can create insecurity.  I just send comfort and blessings to you and to all of us.  We're in this together.  My sole attraction is the release but hey whatever it is for everyone...I support. Anyway I look forward to seeing more of you all. BLESSINGS! 

I'm a newcomer but I'll respond to the original post.  I think this place, so far, is pretty awesome.  As for the actual fetish being "unhealthy," according to some therapists who might have discouraged those who aren't posting these days...hogwash on the unhealthy thing lmao.  At least speaking for myself.  I don't think I could even have looked for this place if I haven't gotten clarity on my own dacryphilia, which  I've had since I was a very young girl.  I know for myself that I don't get off on seeing anyone in pain.  It's not the pain that gets me turned on, it's the RELEASE of that pain, the understanding that the person is being Cleansed out with clean, beautiful salt water, fresh from the body, from the Earth. It's almost like a spiritual catharsis not just a mental and emotional one.  I imagine I'm not the only one who feels this way here, but I hope if anyone left because of feeling guilty or something...they might reconsider and come back.  No one wants to be driven away by guilt, particularly if someone with preconceived ideas starts trying to plant negatives in one's head. Lol. Didn't mean to get on a soapbox here (  ) but I think y'all get the drift.  Blessed Be to All!  

Hello, folks!  Here is chapter 2.  To preface, I am switching characters every other chapter, and putting it in the first person narrative.  This one, true to the chapter's name, is Zachary's narrative.  Enjoy!

The Salt of the Earth

Chapter 2: Zachary

I woke up to the sun on my face.  It was warm, almost hot.  Thank God for air conditioning, I thought, sighing.  I looked down at the woman beside me, hugging her pillow as if it were a teddy bear.
She looked like an angel.
I wanted to touch her, to smooth her long red hair back at least.  But she looked so peaceful, I hated to disturb her.  Last night, we had come home from the Ethical Society in a Lyft car.  My meager apartment in University city was only a one bedroom but it was home to me.  Fiona had been amazing about the mess, but I didn’t mind when she cleaned it up.  Until I realized her hips were hurting and she had to sit down, short of breath. Then I told her in no uncertain terms that I wanted her to be comfortable, and not push herself.
Somehow, I knew just by her body language that she’d been shamed to the point of feeling like such a squashed bug, I just couldn’t not hold her then and there.  She cried again, this time much deeper, with more hysteria attached to it.  Occasionally I told her to breathe, just so she wouldn’t pass out. 
She shared her world with me, all of it.  She hated the weight she carried, and shyly wondered if I minded it. Minded it?  Was she serious?  She looked like a Goddess to me.  A bonafide, Botticelli Venus!  Why did people in this world think that thin was so beautiful?  Why did they do such horrible things to themselves if they even had an inch of body fat, let alone a yard?
It was so beautiful to see her release her shame and smile at me. GOD, that smile is majestic!  I need that smile.  I need it for the rest of eternity.
I need, also, to call the hospital about Rachel.
Last night, after Fiona wept, we again made love. Our bodies were achin

What really gets me going is handkerchiefs.  I love using them myself and I find that when others use them, or rags, scarves, bandanas...I'm off to the races.  I used to love watching movies where people used them. Ellen Burstyn is one such actress that I loved seeing cry in movies.  Most movies of the seventies have handkerchief props, but these days, that isn't so much the case.  Still...it's something that has always turned me on, mainly because it's so open and honest, unrestrained.  The more completely one cries, the more comfort it brings, and full-on healing is inevitable.  Actually, tears of joy are the most pleasurable to  me.  When in love for the first time, sometimes the weeping is so intense, and you feel like you're in heaven.  Laughing and crying at the same time is epic.  But handkerchiefs are a real added pleasure to the experience of tears, whatever the reason for them.  When I cry alone, often I'm comforted by the feel of one on my face, as if someone is hugging me.

Anyone else love a good handkerchief cry?

Thank you!    Yes, I love rocking.  I have never actually been rocked back and forth while crying...I always craved it.  It's my fantasy that I find a love like this one. Thanks so much for your kind words!