She shows up without invitation.
She sings riddles of other’s rejection.
She wears a smile of rage.
She reminds of past failures.
She comforts with numbness and distraction.
She searches for schemes of perfection.
She whispers “be smaller.”
She clamors for safety.
The banner over her is control.
I know her. I hate her.
She needs me.
I reach out my hand.
I notice the fear in her eyes.
I see why.
I hold space for her.
I hold her.
I watch the shallowness of her breath deepen into tears. I weep with her.
I offer understanding and it gently regulates.
I invite her to rhythms of grace.
I feel her body rest.
The banner over her is trust.
I know her. I love her.
She is me.
Heather Medley is a woman who is learning to be present and kind to herself and to her husband. She is drawn to engage her world with hope of restoration and redemption and gets to do this professionally as a therapist. She loves deep conversations over hot beverages, neuroscience research papers, and bargain shopping. Heather, her anchoring husband, and two delightful kiddos reside in the Northwest Georgia Mountains.
Thank you for this, Heather. She is me, too.
Thank you, Lacey.