The Day The Tears Fell Anyway!

 

 It wasn’t meant to be a blog post.  

It was just one of  “those” days—the kind that starts with coffee and ends in a puddle of tears you swore you’d already cried.  

I didn’t plan to share this.  

But maybe someone else out there needs to know they’re not losing their mind. Just losing what never truly loved them.

I cried so much today. And then I got angry because I cried.  

And then I wanted to cry again because I was angry that I cried in the first place.

I made contact with my ex two days ago. Just checking in, just that old stupid instinct—“Is he still alive?”  

Note to self: never do that again.

It almost turned into a fight. Of course it did.  

He twisted my words, turned it into something ugly.  

Called a mutual friend, fed them the usual poison.  

And then that friend called me, to ask what was going on.  

To tell me all the other things he’d said.  

The lies. The stories.  

That I’m still coming back to him.  

God help me—I will never go back.

And then came the anger.  

At me.

Angry that I stayed in his lies for so many years.  

Angry that I let him upset my children. That I couldn’t protect them from him.  

And now—I’m terrified.  

Terrified he’ll try to turn them against me like he always did.  

I believe in my heart that they won’t believe him.  

But what if…?

It would destroy me.

He’s always trying to win people over. Always trying to come out looking like the victim.  

Typical narcissistic, manipulative, charm-wrapped chaos.

And still—I cry.  

And I hate that I cry.  

Because I tell myself he’s not worth it.

But maybe…  

Maybe the tears aren’t for him.

Maybe they’re for me.

For the woman I was before all of this.  

For the things I thought were love.  

For the time I lost.  

For the peace I’m still clawing my way toward.

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I’m sharing this not because I’ve got it figured out, but because some days the grief still surprises me.

Not for the man.  

For the girl I used to be.

Maybe this post is more for her than anyone else.  

But if it finds you too—know this:  

You’re allowed to cry.  

You’re allowed to rage.  

You’re allowed to grieve what didn’t deserve you.

Just don’t go back.

Did something here speak to you?

Leave a comment if you feel moved, or simply sit with me in quiet.

If you’d like to walk this road with me, follow Nomadic Grandmother for new stories.

— x Elsabe