You became a part of the house.
And it took approximately two years of consistency-
Gentle words and gentle hands,
Check ins to make sure my mental health was okay after I lost my dad.
There was ”you can’t stop living” and “get over it” from those who claimed to love me,
But then there was a lack of judgement from you.
Someone who didn’t pretend to understand my pain-
Or benefit from it either.
You can’t manipulate someone with healthy boundaries.
And so there were nights that I clung to words like “it’s okay to heal on your own time”,
instead.
Your gentleness became the foundation of my permission to heal.
You became a part of the house;
And somewhere along the way the house became somewhere my nervous system could finally breathe.
