Silence Speaks

Yesterday’s therapy session was different. I was nervous, because I knew we were going to touch on the part I’ve been avoiding admitting. I didn’t admit it to myself, or out loud, and not even with her…until last week. Most days, I feel so burnt out. I do just enough to get through, Netflix, scrolling, anything that doesn’t require effort. I’ve been pretending I’m okay, that I have it together. But yesterday, the work became real. For the first time, I felt the discomfort of something deeper, of wounds I didn’t even realize were there. Although I prepared myself and told her, and myself, that it’s a good thing and that I want to talk about it and work it out. But every question she asked felt so confusing to me. My mind resisted and completely blocked me out.

Halfway through, I suddenly realized: if I don’t let these feelings out, they’ll find another way. They’ll emerge as headaches, exhaustion, or low moods. The body and mind carry what I’ve refused to speak. Once I managed to relax, and said again that I want to work on it, even if it’s painful. Slowly, I let them out. And in that release, I felt the paradox of therapy. It’s terrifying, yes, but also freeing. It’s painful, but also revealing.

I don’t know yet what comes next. I don’t have solutions or instructions. But I know that I don’t need to fix it all immediately. I know that facing what’s inside, even when it hurts, is a step forward in the healing direction. I know that the point is to notice, to name, to acknowledge the monster that’s been growing inside of me, and still keep moving. Because even if it is unfinished and vulnerable, it also makes the monster feel less impactful, and it brings a sense of gratitude for being alive.

And that’s enough for today. To simply stay present with what rises, without forcing it into meaning. Some truths need time before they can be spoken, and that’s okay. The courage, I think, is in staying with ourselves until they do.