Don’t tell me not to cry.

I’ve spent my whole day, my whole week not crying.

I can’t cry in front of my son.

I can’t cry at work.

I can’t cry in public.

I’m pretty sure my wife takes enough.

So if you are one of the ones the tears come crashing down around, please do not tell me not to cry.

I know it’s instinctive, but don’t.

Ask me what’s going on in my head.

Even though the answer may be “everything”.

Ask me what you can do to help.

Even though the answer may be “nothing”.

Don’t tell me what to do and what to try.

You can’t possibly know how hard I try, and how much I blame myself.

I’m my worst judge, my own harshest jury.

The last thing I need is one more judgmental sentence to wrack around in my brain.

Don’t forget, when I’m done letting it all out, I have to pick myself back up and get on with the show.

So take a moment, let me feel the feels, and maybe help me plug it all back up again for another day.


Filters can’t hide this.

They can’t cover the circles under my eyes, or the red puffiness from crying.

Not one of them can put the normal sparkle in my smile.

Maybe you can’t see it, but I do.

I’ve gotten real good at not letting on in public. Wouldn’t want to be a downer.

I keep pushing through, because I know that one of these days I’m going to wake up and feel like myself, who ever that is.

I know that if I continue to do the things I’ve always done I’ll be okay again.

It’s been a while. It’s been over a year now since I’ve felt like me.

I have moments and days that feel better than others, but it’s been a struggle.

Before you judge me, you should know I’m not new to this.

I do my mindfulness exercises, my gratitude journal. I go to the doctors. I help others first. I feed my body and my soul. I cut out the things that I know bring me down.

I pray. Shit, I beg at night in my bed. Silently.

I’m still waiting.

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