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87 Who was the last person who made you cry? Why did it make you cry? (05/10/2023)

My coworker from Qatar.
It was early March, around two months ago. I had been working in Qatar for 4 months with her and other personnel before I got rotated out. I was really close with them because we worked together for 12+ hours 5 days a week handling large groups of personnel flying in. When dealing with hundreds of them at a time, it was stressful but we often worked together and we trusted each other. When nothing was going on, we often watched movies together or played card games and after work, we would get drinks or go off base into the city.
After being flown out, I was heartbroken. I cried on the flight back and I cried more in my empty room knowing I might never see them again. After a week, I called my coworker. I told her that I really appreciated her listening to me. I confessed that throughout my life, I was everybody's great friend who always listened to what others had to say. Being a good friend was something I practiced and improved actively due to my fear of being alone. When you become a good listener, people like being around you because they know you are always willing to lend them an ear. However, I told her, I never had a great friend of my own. I was always the one listening but I rarely had other people who listened to me. That was until I met her. I was glad that I met her and I appreciated her being a great friend of mine. while telling her all this, I was crying. My voice was trembling with short pauses in between. She knew I was crying and she listened for most of the phone call. She said would welcome my call anytime if I ever needed to talk with.
Before that phone call, we did go out for tea one night. She was the first person I opened up about my suicide attempt and my struggles with loneliness and depression. I felt safe like I didn't put up my guard anymore. She understood where I was coming from. That meant a lot to me. I also cried during that night as well.
As for why I cried, it was because of the pain. I am usually a quiet person that rarely opens up. During those two nights, my hands were trembling and my eyes were watering as I was recounting my past memories. Whether it was the memories of my parents calling me "worthless" repeatedly or me getting bullied in 7th grade, I was feeling the pain all over again. It still hurts thinking about the past.