Photo by Puwadon Sang-ngern on

The cracks in my armor were filled today in the most cherished way.

My heart heals every time I breathe in compassion flowing from loving humans. It gives me strength to find my own, for myself, too.

When you hold me and your hand is patting my back, just like I hold my children, I return to my body. I am solidly grounded. I am safe. Suddenly the loudest thing in the room is not the screaming in my head, but the sound of your heart beat, as my ear presses against your chest. The demons leave, pushed out with loving force, and I can cry in your arms because I am allowed and meant to be heard, not from fear that I will be heard.

Today, our hands holding our hearts together, reached parts of me that haven’t felt love before. The warmth I felt filled my body up so quickly I couldn’t process it. The empty space I’ve been trying to fill for months was abruptly full, and tears came because I didn’t think I could ever fill the void. It was yet another lesson of listening to my body. When I listen to it, it tells me everything I need. I have been feeling so much emptiness and grief and sorrow in my core, but specifically my chest and I have come across somatic techniques to try but was too apprehensive to bring up a very specific one that I kept identifying with when I saw it and read about it, in therapy.

I found a way to dig in to my body’s pain, brought it up, and today we did it. It worked. Just like the way I need to be held works. Just like holding my hand or stomach works. Just like pushing hands together, but away, helps. My body knows. My body has so much incredible wisdom, and when I listen to it–when I am brave and ask for exactly the coregulation it needs or simply let my body do whatever it needs to do, overwhelming amounts of healing come together for me.

All of the most important work and the biggest progress I have made has come through the safety and trust that secure attachment brings, the repairing connection from safe and loving touch, letting others love me and letting my authentic self love back, and God.

Sometimes, all of these extraordinary, life-giving things come together, and I experience the gift of healing as it is happening. So often, progress is made in microscopic ways that aren’t noticeable until months or years have passed and you look back and are able to see all that you’ve accomplished. But this healing isn’t that. This healing is the most precious gift that I will guard until I die because it has given me hope. In the moment, in-my-face hope. Hope inside love.

On my therapist’s birthday today, she gave me this gift: hope. A gift of space to open a flood gate for compassion and love and trust and safety and the more I lean in, the more brave I am, the more healing will overwhelm my body.

My heart, little me, is held in this healing, and I will not let her go ever again. Her heart gets to be held in whatever ways she needs. It is not shameful, it is incredible.

I can’t wait to keep letting myself be loved and to keep authentically loving. I can’t wait to keep leaning in to compassion.

One thought on “Hand on Heart

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