#2
Dear survivor,
There will be days where tired is the only word. Where everything sets your teeth on edge, where other people — even the well-intentioned ones — feel claustrophobic, where you want to scream until your vocal chords just give out. Let this be the permission you need to have a tantrum. We deserve to fall completely apart if we need to. To feel every bright, hot feeling to its fullest extent. Healing feels pretty fucking terrible a lot of the time. If you’re having one of these days, survivor, know that I am, too. Know that if we were together, I’d sit down next to you, let out a heavy sigh, and pass you a cup of something comforting (tea? wine? water with lemon?) in silence. Close your eyes. Feel your hand in mine. Even when your mind has you convinced, you’re not alone. I’m here. The rest of us are here. You don’t have to explain yourself. I love you, no matter what. I’m so glad you did what you needed to do to keep breathing.
I would tell you that it will all be okay and things will work themselves out, but I don’t know that and I don’t bullshit the people I care about. What I will say is this: you simply existing — figuring out your needs, affirming your boundaries, holding onto joy, finding love for yourself, keeping your heart open even when it’s painful — is a lesson to the world. You are the definition of brave; don’t let anyone gaslight you into believing otherwise. When I’m feeling triggered, I picture myself surrounded by a crowd of fierce, curious, loving, imperfect, kind, beautiful, determined survivors. I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about our collective power.
If no one has told you how incredible you are lately, here’s your reminder.
Love,
Me
