The Cry You’ve Been Holding In

Hi,

I'm Fiona.

This meditation is called The Cry You've Been Holding In and it's here for the moments when everything feels like too much.

When the tears start rolling down your face without warning or when you still haven't cried at all.

Maybe the tears are stuck.

Maybe you've learned to swallow them.

Maybe you don't even realize how much you've been holding until it finally catches you in the stillness.

This is a space where you don't have to be strong.

You don't have to explain.

You don't have to hold it all together.

If you've ever cried in your mind but not in your body,

This is for you.

If the tears keep coming but your mind feels numb,

This is for you.

If the numbness has been your coping strategy,

This is for you.

If you've ever looked in the mirror and wondered how you got here,

This is for you.

There is nothing to fix in this space,

Just something to feel.

So,

If it feels okay,

Take a breath.

Let your shoulders drop and when you're ready,

We'll begin together.

Let yourself arrive.

You don't need to come into this gently.

You don't need to pretend you're calm.

Just come as you are.

If you've been holding it together,

This is the space where you don't have to.

You don't have to smile.

You don't have to be strong.

You don't even have to know how you feel.

Yourself land.

Let your shoulders drop,

If only by a few centimeters.

Let your breath come in its own time.

If there's a tightness in your chest,

A heaviness behind your eyes or that low familiar ache in your stomach,

It's okay.

You're not doing it wrong.

This is not a space where we push anything away.

If the sadness is near the surface,

It's welcome.

If the tears are hovering behind your eyes,

They're safe here.

If you feel nothing at all,

That's okay too.

You've been holding so much.

You've been trying so hard and just for now,

Let your body be heavy.

Let your jaw soften.

Let the quiet be a comfort.

You're allowed to be here exactly as you are.

We'll begin together.

I know you're tired of pretending.

Tired of being the one who's always okay.

Or maybe you're tired of not even knowing who you are anymore.

Because how can you pretend when you've forgotten who you ever were?

Maybe you're tired of imitating.

Of copying what you think okay is supposed to look like.

Building your worth around keeping everyone else okay.

While your soul quietly fades in the background.

Maybe you're scared that the you might never come back.

I know you cry in places no one sees.

In the car,

In the shower,

In the space between I'm fine and falling apart.

I know what it's like to feel the tears just under the surface.

But still smile.

Still show up.

Still hold it together when your heart is cracking open.

I know the moment when someone asks,

You're okay.

And you nod.

Even though your chest is aching.

And your mind is screaming,

Please,

Please see me.

I know the moment when you lash out,

Sharp,

Angry,

Louder than you meant to be.

And then fall apart after.

Because those words weren't anger.

They were a desperate cry for help.

Please hold me.

Please see that I am not okay.

I know the numbness.

That foggy kind of grief that doesn't have a clear beginning.

The feeling that if you really let it out,

It might never stop.

I know the moment in the mirror when you barely recognize yourself.

The sadness in your eyes.

The hollowness in your voice.

How did I get here?

Why do I feel like I'm disappearing?

Who even am I?

And maybe the echoes are still there.

The words you learned before you even knew how to speak back.

Don't be selfish.

Think of others before yourself.

You're only lovable when you're useful.

No one wants someone who's too emotional.

Don't cry.

Don't tell anyone how you feel.

So you learned to stay busy.

You learned to stay useful.

You learned to hide.

And now you're here.

Quietly collapsing on the inside.

Still trying to smile on the outside.

But love was never supposed to cost you this much.

And the version of you who's showing up here,

Right now,

Listening to this.

She is not broken.

She is grieving.

And she deserves to be held.

You are doing your best.

Even when no one sees it.

Even when the wait feels too much.

You keep going.

Not because it's easy.

But because it matters.

And all of this,

The sadness,

The anger,

The numbness.

It doesn't mean you're failing.

It's simply the echo of everything you've survived.

You are not too sensitive.

You are not too much.

You feel deeply in a world that teaches you to shut down.

You were taught to perform love instead of receive it.

To earn belonging by staying small.

But your grief is not a weakness.

It's a signal.

A sign that your body and soul are trying to return to truth.

You bend yourself to meet everyone else's needs while yours sit in silence.

You hand out comfort while carrying none of your own.

You survive by staying useful.

Even though what you really need is to be held.

And still,

You keep going.

You build strength where there is none.

You put others first.

Even when you're running on empty.

You wrap your softness in armor just to make it through.

That isn't weakness.

That's resilience.

But your soul,

The one beneath the layers,

Is asking now for light,

For softness,

For breath.

Let these words land where they're needed.

You are kind.

You are compassionate.

You are deeply caring.

You pour so much of that into others.

And now it's your time to offer even a fraction of that tenderness to yourself.

Not because you've earned it.

Not because you're finally enough.

But because you always have been.

I know,

It's hard to believe.

Especially with the old voices still echoing.

Just for a moment.

Believe me when I say,

You are not too much.

You are not broken.

You are not unlovable.

You are someone who is surviving the only way you know how.

And now you're allowed to come home to yourself.

If it feels okay,

I'd like to invite you into a gentle visualization.

This is your space.

You are in control.

At any point you can pause,

Soften,

Or step away.

Imagine you are standing beside a still,

Quiet lake.

The water is calm.

The air is soft.

The world around you is silent and safe.

There is no one here but you.

This place exists inside you.

And it will wait for you whenever you need it.

In your hands,

You are holding something heavy.

You might not know what it is.

And that's okay.

It could be a shape,

A feeling,

A memory,

Or simply a weight you can no longer name.

Take a moment to feel it.

Not all the way.

Just enough.

Just enough to honor how much it's cost you to carry it.

If it feels safe,

You begin to place it down.

Not to forget it.

Not to force it away.

But to let the lake hold it.

Just for now.

Now,

Imagine this.

You step back and you gently watch her.

The version of you who's been carrying this.

Place the weight into the water.

You see her hands.

You see her shoulders release.

You see the moment her breath softens.

And you say to her silently,

I see you.

You don't have to carry it all anymore.

Watch the water receive it.

No resistance.

No judgment.

Just stillness.

And if the tears come now,

Let them.

Let this be your place of permission.

You are not broken for needing to cry.

You are not weak for feeling too much.

You are a soul who has held so much and finally has a place to set it down.

Place a hand over your heart if it feels right.

Speak softly to the one you just witnessed.

You've done enough.

You're safe now.

I've got you.

You don't need to be fixed.

You don't need to be strong.

You just need to be held.

And you are held by the lake.

Held by this moment.

Held by the version of you who finally came here.

Who finally came here.

Take a slow breath.

Let it rise.

And fall.

You've done something incredibly brave.

You've shown up.

Not just for this meditation.

But for yourself.

There's no rush now.

Nothing to figure out.

Nothing to fix.

Just this moment.

Just your breath.

Let your shoulders soften.

Let your belly be soft.

Let your hands rest.

And hear this.

As if whispered from somewhere deep inside you.

You are safe now.

You are allowed to rest.

You are held.

When you're ready to return to your day.

Take your time.

Drink some water.

Feel your feet on the floor.

And carry this truth with you.

You don't have to be okay to be worthy of love.

I hope this meditation landed with you in the way you needed it to.

I hope you feel just a little more seen.

A little more softened.

A little more you.

Thank you for being here.

Thank you for showing up.

You did something beautiful by pausing.

Let that be enough.