I was watching a YouTube video detailing the symptoms and behaviors of adult children of alcoholics. Midway through, the host began explaining how children trapped in an alcoholic household feel like they’re walking a tightrope between love and hate.

There was something about the way she said it, that ripped out a piece of me. As a child, I could never quite trust my father’s expressions of love and approval. No matter how sincere they seemed, they would always, ALWAYS come crashing down. I would be left sprawled out on the ground, wondering what I had done wrong this time.

Eventually I learned it was best to just stay quiet. Stay invisible. Being seen meant being hurt.

For a minute or two, all those emotions came flooding back. The burden was too heavy. And so I cried.

And that’s okay. I had to tell myself I was safe. Nobody was here that could hurt me. It was just me and my inner child. I reminded him that it was okay to cry.

It’s okay to cry.

It’s okay to cry.

Give yourself the freedom to hurt. Let yourself process. Hold yourself. Love yourself.

It’s okay to cry.