During my junior and senior years of high school, my guidance counselor periodically summoned me into her office to ask me if everything was okay. Always an honor roll student, my grades had dropped. I remember looking into her kind, inquisitive eyes and shaking my head. I couldn't say anything. It wasn't safe.
Years and years of burying things within and not saying, because it wasn't safe, have come to an end. This is my journey and my story. I realize that remaining silent, always editing and being careful to consider the effect on others while ignoring my own cries is...not okay.
More recently, I sought the help of a church counselor to process my grief and turmoil after my mother's passing. After getting some history and hearing my reasons for being there, he asked me if I felt like I was being heard in my life. No, I didn't feel like I was being heard. This person took down notes. Unfortunately, at our next session as we continued our discussion, the counselor started to nod off. Ironic...in a horrible way. But, I realized in the car that it wasn't as important if this person heard me as long as I was paying attention and tending to what my heart was saying.
This is an incredibly difficult time.
I am clinging to God.
He continues to touch me as He shows His love in unexpected ways.