Therapy Bits

There are days my mind is weather—
grey skies folding over themselves,
a hush before the rain that never quite arrives
yet still soaks me through.

I have walked through turbulence
that rattled every fragile beam in me,
winds whispering that nothing would change,
that darkness was the only honest thing.

But healing is a slower season—
a thaw, soft and almost secret.
Some mornings, light slips in
without asking permission,
brushing the edges of me
that thought they’d stay frozen forever.

I learn to breathe again
in the small, ordinary moments—
warm water on my hands,
a bird insisting on singing,
the quiet bravery of getting out of bed.

Living is not the sudden end of storms
but the courage to carry an umbrella,
to step outside anyway,
to trust that even the heaviest clouds
will one day run out of rain.

And in that patient afterglow,
I find myself—
tender, tired,
but still choosing forward.
Still choosing dawn.

RDP SATURDAY: TURBULENCE