I'm reading over the notes
that my therapist jotted down
during one of our first sessions.

there is so much trauma
and so many diagnoses.

my therapist says that
I'm not alone, and that
so many people know
a similar type of pain.



she's right. I'm not alone,
because I'm not the only
person to have a therapist

and because I'm not the first
person to be diagnosed
with these conditions

and because right now,
at this very second,

there is someone who
is reading this poem and
relating to these words.



sometimes this thought
is upsetting to me.

it depresses me to think
that other children were
raised by parents who
were like my parents,

and that they've faced
the same type of pain.



other times, this thought
is oddly comforting.

it hurts to think about
the children who grew up
the same way that I did

but it also calms me
to know that there
are other people
who are just like me,



because that means
there are people who
have survived this.

that means that
this is survivable,

and that even if I
sometimes doubt it,

it is possible to thrive.