In Being Witnessed, We Heal

Over the holidays, I poured over journals from a decade and a half ago. The words I read sounded just like the words on the pages of my current journal, but instead of this being upsetting, I was filled with an upwelling of love and appreciation for the very lonely, sad twenty-year-old who just needed to be reminded that she doesn't have to do this alone anymore, that I am here now, I see her, and I am not scared of her pain and darkness.

It was never my inner 5-year-old I needed to tend to. That was not the "child" within me that needed healing. Years of cloying self-help books and podcasts did nothing but fill me with irritation and boredom. It was witnessing and appreciating college Shannon that healed the empty, aching void inside of her. May she rest now, in the reassurance that she is seen and heard.