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I Cried, So I Deserve a Nap

  • Writer: Indy
    Indy
  • 4 days ago
  • 2 min read

...because I’m tired of holding it all in like it’s part of the job description.

Orange cat sleeps peacefully on a white, striped bedspread. The setting is calm and cozy with a softly lit background.

Everything just… caught up with me. The healing. The trying. The pretending I’m okay when I’m not. The mental to-do list of fixing my brain. And today I couldn’t keep it together anymore — so I cried.


Not the cute kind. Not the single tear running down your cheek in soft lighting. I’m talking red face, snot, curled-up-like-a-shrimp crying. The kind of cry that sneaks up out of nowhere — but you realize it’s been building for months.


I cried because I’m tired. Not just physically tired.


Soul tired.


Tired of having to rebuild myself over and over. Tired of trying to “do the work” when the work is endless. Tired of feeling like I’m supposed to be grateful for every inch of progress while still feeling like a ghost half the time.

I’m tired of pretending I’m not scared. Tired of people thinking I’m strong when I’m mostly just emotionally numb and good at dissociating in public.


I cried because I miss… me.


Not the old me. Not the “before trauma” fantasy version.


Just the real one.


The one who laughed easily. The one who felt present without effort.


The one who didn’t have to fight for clarity like it was air underwater.


So yeah. I cried. And then I lay down.

No journaling.

No healing ritual.

Just flat on my back with puffy eyes and the blanket pulled over my head.


That was the ritual. That was the healing.


Because crying is work. Emotional release takes energy. And after carrying so much, for so long, letting it out deserves rest.


So I’m not gonna feel guilty for this nap.


Not gonna shame myself for the slow day, or the missed task, or the blank stare I gave my laptop screen for 2 hours.


This is healing, too. Soft collapse. Emotional exhale. Surrender, not failure.


If you cried today — or yesterday — or you feel it building in your chest like weather…I see you. And I hope you let yourself rest after. No questions. No punishment. Just warmth. And stillness. And maybe tea.


Because you don’t need to earn your softness. You already survived.

You get the nap.



 
 
 

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