My mother, Rest In Peace, wasn’t really around much when I was younger. She was there, but she was in her own twisted world. She suffered from a ton of issues that went undiagnosed. Drug addiction was one of the hardest battles she fought until cancer showed up. Ultimately, I loved my mom but it wasn’t a tight bond. I didn’t learn much from her other than what not to do. Don’t do drugs in front of my kids. Don’t do drugs maybe? Don’t sleep with multiple men and drag the kids along with you to live in different shitty places. Get my shit together and provide a better life for my children. However, when I think of my mom, I also recognize now that she wasn’t okay. She struggled and most of the time, she tried to stay strong for us. However, her strongest was barely keeping us alive.
As I’ve gotten older, I struggle with my own demons, as I truly feel we all do. Panic attacks have began and I never really reached that stage before. Recently, a memory trickled back into my mind. There was a time when I lived with my grandmother. My mom wasn’t around, she showed up randomly, sometimes beat up by her latest boyfriend, she’d show us some love, maybe bring us something and disappear again for a few months. She would call sometimes too.
It was during a phone conversation with her when I was in the kindergarten maybe first grade, I remember her getting on to me about my behavior with my grandma. I started having tantrums really bad, kicking walls, slamming doors, crying and being angry at life I guess. The rules my grandmother had were so strict compared to my mom who let us do whatever we wanted. So I struggled adapting. I told her sometimes I just need to cry and I don’t know why. She told me those exact words, “Cry if you need to cry!”. I talked a lot about the negative shit my mom put us through. Those five words, in my entire life, were what has helped me the most from her. I understand them to the fullest now.
Sometimes, I literally feel like my brain is too full. Like I can go for months and then it’s like a switch turns on the overload/panic button and I need to cry. I fight it, because I hate crying, I feel weak and vulnerable when I cry. In reality, it’s all I need to do. I just need to cry sometimes, get through that, and I feel so much better. I found an article about it, because I got curious as to why I religiously feel better after I cry. Apparently, it’s a real thing that can help you according to PsychologyToday!
Cry if you need to cry!