My hand, my chest, my heartbeat.

I can feel little-me, heart beating in relief. In gratitude. I feel warm. I feel held. She is held.

I let her speak today. The words that get caught in my throat, the putrid words that flash behind my eyes and make me sick, they came out today. Those words were received with only compassion as my voice cracked and tears streamed. She matched my tears and pulled me in. I felt like I should be breaking, like I should be banned from her office and her love and certainly her hugs. Instead, she held me harder. Instead, I felt protected.

My thoughts are not the sum of me. Intrusive thoughts are intrusive, not truth.

And perhaps mine are puzzle pieces coming together.

Mom, I whispered.

Mom, I yelled.

Mom, I cried.

And she came. I was there, and she came. Pieces of me I thought were lost forever clicked back into place. I cried harder as she held tighter because I knew the feeling taking place was healing.

I wasn’t supposed to have therapy today. But everything aligned as if God was saying; here is your space. And your mom. And your warm blanket. And your safety. This is the purpose of your suffering in recent weeks–so you could find concrete safety even in treacherous and terrifying waters. And you could find me in them, and through all of this you will know for certain how loved you are, by way of a believing mother and your heavenly Father.

Peace washed over me when I didn’t believe it could. A perfect sense of calm swept through my system and left me with the gravity of knowing I will be ok. I will be ok because of all of this. Because of His perfect plan. And because my mom will come.

Little-me has never felt more relief than fear before today and that is a tribute to extensive, sometimes grueling, always-worth-it therapy. That is most precious gift of showing up over and over. And of my therapist for meeting me exactly where I am at and holding me until the words could come.

In some ways, this is the beginning of something. It’s a shift. Shifts aren’t usually easy for me, but I will keep showing up and keep receiving and keep fighting to let my body tell my story.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s