I had my last therapy session for the year this week, and it was quite a surreal experience.
It marked not only another year of doing the work, trusting my therapist, and finding solace in her words, but also a moment of recognition—seeing clearly all that she’s helped me through, all that she’s supported me in navigating.
She’s been part of my life and narrative for more than half a decade, and it feels wild to admit that. The version of me that stepped into her office for the first time is so far behind the version of me writing these words now.
At the end of our session, I told her I didn’t know how I would have gotten through this year without her. I genuinely meant those words.
She told me I would have. Part of me wonders if there’s any truth to that. But after a few days of reflection, I don’t think there is. I needed the space she created for me—the sanctuary our sessions provided where I could grieve and express freely all that I was trying to process in real time.
Some words are hard to hear, and others help us navigate moments we can’t bear to witness alone. Her words this year encompassed both sides of that coin, and I’m grateful for both. They have been necessary, transformative, and encouraging in equal measure.
I’m just being honest with myself when I say I couldn’t have done it without her. It’s not only about acknowledgement or accolade—it’s about naming the moments when I felt brave enough to ask for help. That matters deeply to me.
For me, asking for help has always felt like intentionally holding my breath until my face turns blue and danger sets in. It goes against every instinct I have to appear capable and self-sufficient.
But this year taught me something profound: the bravest thing I did wasn’t surviving the hard things alone. It was showing up, week after week, to a room where I didn’t have to.
Healing isn’t always about being strong enough to carry everything yourself.
Sometimes it’s about being wise enough to let someone help you carry it. And courageous enough to keep showing up, even when every part of you wants to hold your breath and pretend you’re fine.
I’m grateful I didn’t.
