Therapy Bits

Let’s get real—
it’s not just “feeling blue,”
not just a storm you can sleep through.
Anxiety rattles my chest like loose keys,
my own breath a burglar
breaking into my calm.

Depression—
it drapes the sky in concrete,
even the sun feels heavy,
like lifting it would snap my bones.
It whispers,
why bother?
and it’s louder than any shout.

Dissociation—
some days I scatter into pieces,
like glass in different rooms,
voices with my name
but not always my face.
I live in a house with many doors,
and not all of them open to light.

PTSD—
memories that don’t stay memories,
they sprint back,
uninvited guests kicking down the door.
The body trembles
as if danger is still here,
as if the past refuses to grow old.

So let’s get real—
this isn’t weakness,
it’s weathering a hurricane in silence,
it’s showing up in a body that doesn’t always obey,
it’s surviving a battlefield
that no one else can see.

Let’s get real—
healing isn’t linear,
hope isn’t always loud,
but still,
there’s courage in breathing,
in staying,
in saying:
This is me,
and I’m still here.

real – The Daily Spur