Recently, I had a friend share this work with me by Nayyirah Waheed. It is the most honoring description of therapy that I have heard in a long time... Where do you see yourself in it? What seasons have "split you through?" and which have softened your rough and wearied edges?
“the hard season
will
split you through.
do not worry.
you will bleed water.
do not worry.
this is grief.
your face will fall out and down your skin
and
there will be scorching.
keep speaking the years from their hiding places.
keep coughing up smoke from all the deaths you
have died.
keep the rage tender.
because the soft season will come.
it will come.
loud.
ready.
gulping.
both hands in your chest.
up all night.
up all of the nights.
to drink all damage into love.
— therapy”
