Therapy Bits

There is no thunder
when the healing begins—
just silence,
tender and awkward,
like a stranger learning your name.

You do not wake one morning
whole again.
You rise in fragments,
sifting light through the cracks,
noticing how even broken glass
can make a window shimmer.

The past does not leave,
but it loosens—
its grip no longer
around your throat,
but a shadow
that follows at a distance,
content to be unspoken.

You stop apologizing
for surviving.
You breathe
and it feels like
relief,
not resistance.

Scars stretch into soft skin,
your laugh returns
without flinching,
and you learn to touch the world
without recoiling.

Healing does not arrive
with trumpets—
but with quiet mornings,
a steady heartbeat,
and the daring act
of staying.

FOWC With Fandango — Relief – Facts, Fictions & Fantasies