When I was growing up, my mom always used to tell me when I was upset that I would feel better after a good cry. She was so right. There is something about the welling up of tears and their eventual release that always gets me to a better place, then and now.

This piece of art is about the way my body speaks to me when I have a good cry. At first, it feels like I am carrying a consuming weight inside, and like there isn’t room to breathe. My shoulders rise as I quickly inhale. Then I feel like I need something to hold onto, so I brace myself by wrapping my arms around my knees. And as the sobs start to come, I feel my head and all its worries slowly settle onto my knees. It knows it doesn’t need to carry itself or figure it all out anymore. Instead, it just rests and releases. And the tears fall down my long hair like pink baby’s breath, soft, wet and sweet. As the storm passes and my breath returns, I feel like a wilted flower, empty yet lighter at the same time. And even though I know I look messy, I somehow feel beautiful. I love that my life touches me deeply, and that my body honors it with tears.