I generally don’t cry often, so my tears somehow feel like a precious resource. A resource I like to spend on beautiful words, or hard thoughts, or collections of music and images that make me feel something.
I cried at the end of a really good book last night. It felt like paying homage to the author, to the story of suffering that had been told. An acknowledgement of the hardship and triumph told over just a few hundred pages.
Or the other week, I cried because I realised how hard it is for me to ask for help, and I allowed myself to mourn that loss - the opportunities for connection, for honesty, that I don’t even allow people that are close to me to make. I wrote about three pages in my journal about those years, because I know I want to change that about myself. I can be sad about it, but I still want to move on.
The point is, I hope you let yourself cry sometimes, because I think there is something in everyone’s life that deserves a few tears every now and then.
