See

I'm pretty much a year in now.

I look back at the girl I was last July,

a fresh faced dreamer,
a blithe cupcake decorating barista,

still so unfamiliar to sorrow,

to human suffering.

I knew heartbreak.

I knew sadness.

I knew let-down.

But I had never let true suffering get close to me.

Since interning at a domestic violence shelter

I have come face-to-face with human suffering,

I've come to experience trauma second-hand.

I've let sadness penetrate my heart,

I've held hands with hatred,

I've looked bitterness in the eyes.

And it has take its toll on me.
Depression has become something I understand
beyond books, diagnoses, and symptoms.

Sometimes I get to the end of the month,
I look at my stats, numbers attached
to women I have begun to believe in,
and I realize what it takes.

Each session it takes courage to get close,
bravery to poke the soft places that bring tears,
and authenticity to let go of my own expectations.

Counseling isn't about helping others,

it isn't about making someone better than before.

Not exactly.

It's holding onto secrets without giving out judgement.

It's being safe enough to allow discovery.

It's marrying truth and trust in a way that brings vulnerability.

If I thought I could trust the process and come out unscathed I was wrong.
I've had to let go of naivety and hold on to hope.
I've had to see myself for who I am not,
and accept myself for who I am.

I would like you to see this me.
I began the slow walk towards my true self years ago,
and this blog played a huge role in that.

I can't ask my clients to be vulnerable without practicing it myself.
So here I am, blogging, letting myself be seen.
Because I can't stop believing that it is our stories, heartbreaks, and victories
that bring about belonging, connection, and love for one another.