A Good Cry

Ever have a morning where you wake up too early? 

Where your mind immediately goes to the dark place?
That place you’ve been ignoring… then suddenly, you awaken in a cold sweat? 
Maybe it had something to do with the dream you were in the middle of, but your brain won’t allow you think about the dream you just had, because that dream is nothing compared to what your brain is forcing you to face. 
As your eyes widen, it may feel like a nightmare at first, until you realize what a relief it would be to awaken from this painful reality. 
A lump forms in the back your throat, and you feel like crying, but, as your eyes well up, you bury that feeling the instant you hear tiny footsteps walking toward your bed.
Your smiling, snuggly 4-year old magically removes the lump in your throat, and you are whisked into that reality. 
Maybe life isn’t so bad after-all.
You walk into the kitchen to prepare breakfast for yourself & your children. 
Run through the morning routine, forgetting, just for a moment, that dark place you were in, minutes before. 
And then… the kids are at school, the hubs is at work… and you are alone with your thoughts as you clean up the toys, blankets & dishes you ignored the night before. 
The silence can feel refreshing… until that lump returns. 
You attempt to drown yourself in social media, the television, alcohol, food, caffeine… anything to force your brain away from the reality of the dark place. 
But soon, you are spiraling down into…
the black hole of loneliness…
the black hole of excuses…
the black hole of debt…
the black hole of anxiety…
the black hole so deep, yet so isolating you can’t envision a way out…
the black hole that seems to be multiplying by the second, like an evil virus.
You scream. 
The tears roll down your cheeks, and on some level, that good cry helps. 
You continue on through your day, searching for the positivity… embracing the moments you can. Trying, desperately to maintain some level of sanity in front of your kids. 
When you can’t hide the tears, they ask you what is wrong. You try your best to be honest, but you don’t want to burden them with your pain, sadness or fears… so you simply tell them you are sad. Then, they hug you, that kind of hug that only a child can give you. One where you can somehow feel their heart wrapped around you. 
And you realize that light at the end of the black hole you’ve been searching for is lit within your children, and you are rich beyond words…

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