I Cried Today

December 21, 2025

I cried today.

Actually, it wasn’t crying.

Crying is controlled.

Surface-level.

What I did was sob.

It poured out of my eyes—

ripping free from the deepest parts of my soul.

I have sobbed a lot this year.

But this time was different.

It wasn’t grief over him.

Or heartbreak over what happened.

It was honoring me.

The version of me who opened herself fully to someone for the first time in her life.

The one who let herself trust.

Be vulnerable.

Hope.

Try.

Believe.

The one who believed his words.

Who believed the time together meant something.

Who thought she had a lover—and a true friend.

I sobbed for the me who slept in hospital rooms for weeks.

Who sat at her father’s bedside

while a team of doctors worked to keep him alive.

The me who watched him drift between incoherence and lucidity.

I sobbed for the woman who rode the brutal roller coaster

of life and death—hoping, praying, believing he would recover—

only to hold his hand, whisper words of love,

and release them into his heart

as he took his last breath.

I sobbed for the woman who still loved and hoped

despite being so deeply mistreated

by a man who spent nearly a year and a half

using the language of safety.

I sobbed for the woman who chose courage over comfort

and asked the questions

no one should ever have to ask.

I sobbed for the woman who read the answers

and slowly, painfully,

understood what they truly meant.

I sobbed for the woman who took a stand for herself—

for her future,

her dignity—

and walked away from a man she loved deeply,

a man who abused her love,

her body,

her emotions,

and her mind

beyond comprehension.

I sobbed—her whole body wailing.

I sobbed as she realized

he had never been truly safe,

and that she had never been truly chosen.

I sobbed for her as she made the unbearable choice,

day after day after day,

to feel the pain.

To survive the sleepless nights.

The anxiety.

The questions.

The relentless unraveling of truth

as memory after memory

came into focus.

I sobbed for her as she chose courage

and herself—again and again—

without knowing if it would ever feel worth it in the end.

But she stood on standards.

On self-respect.

On dignity.

On the unwavering belief

that she deserved better—

and that a more beautiful love

was moving toward her

with every step she took

away from the rupture.

She was braver than she knew.

Stronger than she realized.

And absolutely unwilling

to compromise her respect

or her worth.

I don’t think about those versions of me very often.

And I have not honored the pain they carried

or the work they did

to protect the woman I am creating.

So today, I sobbed for those versions of me—

for the pain they endured that forged the woman I am today,

and the self respect that is irrevocably engrained in me.

Because of them:

My future is bright,

And I am its flame.