Addressed to You.

To the many stories I’ve had the honor of knowing, 

Maybe you think I forgot about your story and You - that once you moved along in your journey with therapy, I moved along too. Maybe you think it didn’t mean something to me as we navigated through the many unknowns, whether they were scary, heart-wrenching, heart-filling, exciting, or mundane parts of life. I’m here to say you’re sorely mistaken. 

I had dinner with a dear friend and fellow therapist recently, just the two of us. We sat as we have many times and spoke about life and the many stories we are holding space for. We speak about our own lives, the characters, the obstacles, and the triumphs represented there. We speak about our field and the work that is being done. But then we happen upon the many stories of You we’ve both known and held space for. 

A fun quirk of being a therapist is being able to talk about humans in code, so nothing identifying leaves our minds, yet we can express just how magnificent we think someone is. Rather than using names we speak about virtues. Rather than using gender we talk about souls. We can talk about how scary a moment was for you and what significant choices you made. We talk about how inspired we are by you - how much you taught us. We talk about the feeling of wanting to be able to stand up for you, to the people and systems that have caused you hurt. We ground ourselves in the unnecessary nature of such a wish—because, again, You’re magnificent. 

The thing about being a therapist that no one can really get until you do this work is, I’ll never forget. I walk miles and years and moments with the many You’s along for the ride. It may sound heavy, but it's the furthest thing. These remembrances are soft, much like feathers that graze ever so slightly and connect me back to the magic of the work you did, even if just for a moment. Sometimes I see someone’s gestures in a grocery store and I think of your humor and quick wit. Sometimes I hear a tone in someone's voice and I am brought back to the many sessions we worked so hard in. You worked so hard to accomplish big goals. 

So whether you’re currently doing the work, have done the work, or are thinking about doing the work, just know that your story is transcendent and impactful. That it isn’t forgotten and someone on this earth knows just how much you did to get where you are right now reading this letter. I know it wasn’t easy, it never is. 

But You chose hope. Hope in the grittiest, most difficult and expanding sense. Not in all moments, that's not reasonable to expect anyone of. And I’ll always be grateful that you did. Because hope didn’t give you certainty, it didn’t give you security. It was not an entity handing out wishes to come true. It was You, looking at the uncertain road ahead and choosing to lean into the unknown with what you value, with what you care about. What you hoped for. And it led you to new places and spaces and stories to be had. 

So no, I haven’t forgotten about you - how could I?

When I need to remember how to live in my hope, I think of You.

- C