Why I cry when someone is kind to me
Someone asks softly how you are, or hands you a tea without a word, and your throat tightens. You blink, look away, say "sorry, it's silly."
It isn't the sentence that makes you cry. It's everything you were holding before it. Weeks of answering messages, doing what had to be done, saying "I'm fine" with the right face.
Then someone is gentle with you, and your body understands it can let go. I find that almost tender, that it waits until there's room.
Underneath, there is often someone carrying a lot that nobody sees. So the other person's softness works like a door opening, and everything that was waiting behind it comes through at once.
What it costs is what comes right after: the shame, the "sorry," the rush to be normal again before anyone has noticed. As if crying right then were a mistake, when it was just the first moment it could come out.
It isn't the sentence that makes you cry. It's everything you were holding before it.
I was wondering…
Where did you pick up the idea that someone being gentle with you was something to say sorry for?