The Return of My Softness

I find new reasons to cry every morning.

This morning’s trigger? Either Defying Gravity or reading about Hurricane Melissa. I’m unsure which one; they were both happening at the same time.

And yes, I know. I cry a lot.
But the tears have been feeling different lately. They feel like the return of my softness.

For a long time, I wrapped myself in hardness, a shell of sorts, to protect myself from disappointment, from others, and from all the sadness and trauma I carry within me.
I don’t feel.
Or at least, I made it a point not to.

I knew that if I let myself feel even an ounce of sadness, everything I’d been holding back would come spilling out and God knows how long it would take to get through it all.
So I became nonchalant.
An apathetic bitch at times.
A far cry from where I came from.

I was the sensitive child, the one who cried over everything and nothing. My mom would say, “Leave my baby alone. She’s sensitive.”
And she was right. I was.

But life has a way of hardening you. Of making you feel like softness is unsafe. Like you need thicker skin to make it through. So I tucked the most vulnerable part of myself away.

But when do you let her out?
When is it safe?

I used to think I could when I found a partner who made me feel like I could, someone who would hold space for the parts of me I buried. Now I know that finding peace within myself is the key.

So these morning tears?
I’m embracing them.
They’re not weakness.
They’re softness making her way back home.

And my arms are open.
Welcome back, girl.
I’ve missed you.