Therapy Bits

That silence can roar—
a thousand what-ifs marching through my chest,
each one convinced it’s saving me
from something I can’t name.

That breathing is not automatic.
It is an act of faith—
to trust air to return
when my lungs forget the pattern.

That I am both the fire
and the one who fears the smoke.
That my own mind builds the maze
and still aches to find the way out.

That courage isn’t loud.
It’s showing up to the small things:
opening the blinds, answering the message,
stepping outside when the sky feels too wide.

That people are not measuring my tremors.
They are holding their own.
And when I speak, voice shaking,
they hear honesty, not weakness.

That healing is circular—
a rhythm of falling forward,
of learning that the point
is not to silence the fear,
but to live gently beside it.

That I am not broken.
Just human,
and that’s a lesson, too.

lesson – The Daily Spur