Military family, cold and repressed mother. Emotions frowned upon, especially by my mother. She didn't even like it when I became visibly upset and didn't cry. If I cried, it had to be for a darned good reason, like a genuine injury. I cried when I got pretty badly hurt or when something awful happened (I even cried in public a couple of times when someone died), but I was otherwise emotionally frozen.
I was nineteen when my grandfather died, and my mother criticized me for not showing enough emotion when I was told the news. Well, you taught me to be that way, didn't you? Don't condemn me for it, you *****.
After I came out, I started learning to cry. I was a mess and wouldn't have been able to hold it all in anyway. Then T put a stop to that, but only for a while. I decided I didn't like not being able to cry when I needed it, so I retrained myself. It's still harder than pre-T, but I think I have the best of both worlds. Perfect control when I want it, no worries about crying in public when something bad happens. But I can usually get in touch with it when I want to.
