I honor your survival.
I believe your survival.
I am in awe of your survival.
I support your survival.
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I know that the word “survival” is past tense and sometimes you are still surviving.
I know there aren’t enough strong supports and soft places.
I know it can feel incredibly alone and too fucking hard and painfully endless.
I know it is tiring. So so tiring.
I see you keeping going.
I see you stopping to rest.
I see you itchy and struggling to pause, to receive rest.
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I honor and hold and bow to your experience. To the late nights and bitter resentment and fearful holding. To the adaptive coping mechanisms you needed and wish you didn’t need any longer. To the weariness that pulls on your heartsleeves. To feeling misunderstood and out of place, where is my place, where is my story’s place? To all it takes to survive, to keep surviving - I honor and hold and bow to all of that.
