When your voice is swallowed by your fear and you look up at me and you start to wring your hands and you feel the sting of eyes watering and you give in to the power of tears falling, it makes me want to cry, too.
Because I wish you could find the confidence to tell me what you need at those times, even when I have an inkling. It would be so huge for you to articulate your own self-doubts and work through them.
Because I wish you could find the courage to talk then, even though the embarrassing blubber of crying speech is going to make you hate yourself more. It would be so great for you to see that you will be okay after.
Because I wish you could find the strength to release those words that bottle up in your chest like a volcano, even if they are scary. It would be so awesome for you to acknowledge how important your feelings are just because they belong to you.
I won’t judge, scorn, or humiliate. I will support, try to help, and admire you for pushing yourself out of your comfort zone.
We just might cry happy tears instead.