In the quiet room where soft light falls,
I learned the courage to name my walls.
You sat with me as the shadows grew,
A steady presence I never knew.
My voice was small, but you heard it clear—
The trembling truth, the buried fear.
You didn’t rescue me with grand displays,
But gently cleared the tangled maze.
You showed me strength I couldn’t see,
A path back home inside of me.
Each tear I shed, you helped me brave,
And in that space, you taught me save—
To save my breath, my hope, my fire,
To hold my heart when it felt tired.
And though the journey’s mine to live,
You offered grace I could not give.
Now when the darkness starts to roam,
I hear your words and find my home.
Not rescued, no—but understood,
And in that, somehow, I’m finally good.
Therapy Bits 
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