Permission to Cry

It's been awhile since I've actually felt like writing a blog post, for various reasons. I didn't want to write just because there needs to be a new one here. I tend to write when I have something to say...and willing to share it with others. I always have a lot to say, but some things choose to stay within. Not me, they do. Well, I'm ready to share now.

In the last few days, I've been able to take an assessment of all major things that I've actually gone through over the past four years or so. I've had to work through unexplained health decline, a breakup, the death of my mother, spinal surgery, the death of my sister, the Pandemic (and all that goes with that), and most recently the death of a much adored Aunt. I needed to cry, and I gave myself that permission. Why would you need permission to cry?...You might ask. Sometimes, you're pushed into being the strong and responsible one. It might not be necessarily, the one you chose for yourself, but it is what it is. You wear the hat! Coming to a realization that you find yourself in 'flight or fight' mode more often than not. But, you keep doing what you need to do. Not only for yourself, but for others around you that may need YOU. Sure, I might have shed tears at some of the events as they occurred, but not at the culmination of the whole. The purpose isn't a call for pity, it's a release and also a way to say "I'm proud of myself for making it through it all." A strong Black woman who is a SURVIVOR.

I may feel like falling down or even fall, but I continue to get back up.

What suddenly triggered my need to get my own permission to release? I said out loud, "I don't have any living parents." Of course, with the passing of my mother that became fact, BUT I'd never said it.

And boy, did I cry.