Yesterday, I Cried

Yesterday, I cried.
I came home, went straight to my room, sat on the edge of my bed,
kicked off my shoes, unhooked my bra,
and I had myself a good cry.

I'm telling you,
I cried until my nose was running all over the silk blouse I got on sale.
I cried until my ears were hot.
I cried until my head was hurting so bad that I could hardly see the pile
of soiled tissues lying on the floor at my feet.

I want you to understand,
I had myself a really good cry yesterday.

Yesterday, I cried,
for all the days that I was too busy, or too tired, or too mad to cry.

I cried for all the days, and all the ways, and all the times I had dishonored,
disrespected, and disconnected my Self from myself,
only to have it reflected back to me in the ways others did to me
the same things I had already done to myself.

I cried for all the things I had given, only to have them stolen;
for all the things I had asked for that had yet to show up;
for all the things I had accomplished, only to give them away,
to people in circumstances,
which left me feeling empty, and battered and plain old used.

I cried because there really does come a time when the only thing left
for you to do is cry.

Yesterday, I cried.

I cried because little boys get left by their daddies;
because I was a mommy who didn't know what to do, and
because I wanted my daddy to be there for me so badly until I ached.

Yesterday, I cried.

I cried because I hurt. I cried because I was hurt.

I cried because hurt has no place to go
except deeper into the pain that caused it in the first place,
and when it gets there, the hurt wakes you up.

I cried because it was too late. I cried because it was time.

I cried because my soul knew what I didn't know.

I cried a soulful cry yesterday, and it felt so good.

It felt so very, very bad.

In the midst of my crying, I felt my freedom coming,

Because

Yesterday, I cried

with an agenda.

written by Iyanla Vanzant



I had to go to the doctor yesterday because I knew I had a bladder infection that wasn't going to clear up with my home remedies. Thank God that there was a clinic open on Sunday. There was an elderly black man getting off a bus as I parked my car. He carried a small duffel bag. I waited behind him as he checked in with the receptionist. I checked in and sat on the sofa across from him to wait for my turn to see the doctor. He asked me if I was from around here. I said I was and asked about him. He said, "Oh, no, I'm from Lousiana." I asked if he had flown in the other day when some of the evacuees came into town. He said he did. My eyes started to tear up, and I said, "Oh, bless your heart. I guess you've been through a lot." He said not as much as some others. He said he was just glad to be alive and to be up here getting treatment. He said he had a lot of stuff back there and he wondered if any of it would be there later. I wasn't sure what to say. I asked if it was okay at the Civic Coliseum, and he said that anywhere was nice to him. He said he was going to look for a job so he could get back on his feet. I said that it was horrible what had happened down there. And he said that it 'needed to happen' and that they had been lucky for a long time. I told him that I'd always wanted to go to New Orleans but never had. He said, "Oh, it's a corrupted place. New Orleans has been corrupt for a long time."

The nurse called him back, and I said, "Good luck to you." And he said the same to me. I sat there and wept. Now I wish I had offered something other than some lame words. I wish I had asked if I could hug him at least. I wish I had offered him a job or a place to stay or something.

Sometimes we encounter people who touch our hearts. And sometimes they don't even know it.