let's consider trauma as money in the bank, "when we release it we open up an opportunity to grow." Crying is our song of healing, trusting God to heal us organically.

it sits there, accumulated, sometimes earning interest in the form of tension, hypervigilance, or quiet depletion. It isn’t inherently worthless—it holds the charge of what was lived through—but while it’s locked away, it occupies space that could otherwise be used for growth, presence, and forward motion. When we release it, we’re not erasing the past; we’re withdrawing the energy that was frozen in place so it can circulate again.
Crying as the song of healing fits that picture perfectly. Tears are one of the body’s oldest, most organic ways of completing the stress cycle—lowering cortisol, activating the parasympathetic system, and signaling safety to a nervous system that has been braced for too long. There’s nothing weak or performative about it. It’s the body remembering how to sing itself back toward balance.
And the trust piece matters. Organic healing doesn’t always look dramatic or linear. Sometimes it’s slow, quiet, and arrives in ordinary moments rather than breakthroughs. Entrusting that process to God can remove the pressure to force or manage every step of recovery, leaving room for grace to work in the timing and manner that the heart and body can actually receive.
Releasing what’s been banked doesn’t make the history disappear. It simply makes the account available for something new to be deposited—capacity, tenderness, clarity, deeper connection. That’s real growth.