On Crying

Earlier today, I cried as Taylor walked in my back door. I tried not to, but she was there and I needed to cry and I gave myself the freedom to be where I was. 

Before she walked in, I was reading the truth in 2 Chronicles 20, where Jeshosephat is afraid but sets his face to seek the Lord. I couldn’t hold it together. I needed that reminder—that when everything is confusing and scary, seek His face; when nothing makes sense and you feel like a failure, His power is made perfect in weakness. 

It felt good to cry. To release the frustration and confusion that had been building over the past few days. Crying doesn’t always give answers but it gives relief.

So I cried. I thought about holding back, but I’m glad I didn’t. I thought about wiping the tears, sniffing the snot, and smiling my way through a fake attempt at being okay. But I wasn’t okay. And that’s okay. My world wasn’t falling apart; I wasn’t in crisis or trauma; but I also wasn’t fine. And I’m learning that I am free to be there too. Opening my back door and greeting my friend in the midst of my tears was a big step in being honest with myself. 

So we sat on the couch. And I cried. And I didn’t measure my words to make sure they sounded smart or spiritual or even coherent. I just said the honest things. And it felt so good. 

It feels good to just be where I am. To not hide. To not qualify every statement with, “But I’m really okay.” Or, “I know that I shouldn’t feel like this.” No. Because the truth is, I do feel like this. And it’s not helpful to bury the truth beneath pleasantries. Even if the truth is ugly or inconvenient or messy. Even if the truth means exposing some shit that’s in your heart. Better for it to come to the light with people that love you than for it to burrow deep into your soul. 

So I cried and I spoke out loud what I was feeling. I didn’t have the answer after that, but that’s okay. Taylor and I didn’t even talk about it much. I just needed to cry and let go of what I had been holding together for so long. 

Sometimes I can only “handle it” for so long. And then my body reminds me that I’m human. And I have limits. And at some point I’ll hit that limit and remember, “Hey, I wasn’t meant to always handle it or have answers or be at my best.”

So I just cried and Taylor was just there and I felt a little less shitty about life.