Permission to cry

An invitation to soften, release, and be fully human

Take a breath

I had no idea that so many people, women and men, were afraid to cry.
Because one day, in their childhood, someone told them: “Stop crying,” often in a dry and harsh tone.

I only learned this a few years ago. At the time, it struck me. But it’s only recently that this realization came back to me, with full force.

For the past nine months, I’ve been training to become a counselor. And once again, I’m the one in class who cries. Not in secret. Not reluctantly. But simply, naturally, whenever the tears rise.

Tears are my friends.
I’ve never been ashamed of crying.
No fear. No guilt. Not in front of loved ones, nor in front of strangers.

I didn’t know that, for so many, tears are forbidden.
That crying is seen as weakness, as something shameful, something you have to hide under a blanket or behind a bathroom door.
I didn’t know that some people even feel uncomfortable when they see someone cry.

And me, all this time…
I cried.
In front of my friends.
In front of people I had just met an hour earlier in a healing circle.
I cried without realizing that, in a way, I was free.

It’s only recently that I understood: despite a difficult childhood, I had received a precious gift.
I was allowed to cry.
And I made use of it, again and again, almost every day.

Even now, tears rise inside me and slide down my cheeks effortlessly.
I cry for my own wounds, for the wounds of others, for this world that isn’t quite right.
Each tear whispers: “Help.”

And I think of you.
Of those who were never given permission.
Of those who don’t give it to themselves.
Of those who long to cry, but can’t.

I see you.

And I would like, in my own way, to offer you that permission.
Even if it’s only words on a page.
I’d like to plant a seed.
A seed of soft, beautiful, human sadness.
A seed that may bloom one day, when you are ready.

Our tears are precious.
They speak for us.
They say: I’m hurting. I need gentleness. I need emotional support. I need to be seen. To be heard. To be acknowledged.
Even here, in our tears.
Especially here.

So if one day you feel the tears rising, let them come.
Give your body this gift.
If possible, cry in the arms of someone you trust.
Or alone, but without shame.
Let the tears run down your cheeks, your lips, maybe even your neck.
And if your voice wants to come out too, let it.

Crying is not a weakness.
It is an act of healing.
And it is your right.
And if you need permission: here it is.