The bathroom floor.

Every week, this is now where I meet my counselor. 

Our house is small, and the master bathroom is the only place where sound doesn’t travel.

So, I lock the door and pour my soul into a video conference.

COVID-19 has changed many things, but it hasn’t changed my need to process grief, and pain, and stress until I find peace.

So, I show up. Sit down. And try to be as honest as I can.

The thing is, my path to true mental health didn’t happen overnight.

I put off counseling for many years.

After the mass shooting, I put it off.
After the miscarriage, I put it off.
After the Big Lie, I put it off.

But, two years ago, when my perfect life absolutely crumbled, it was where I started learning the pieces.

It was where I put myself back together.

So, many hours of therapy later, I’m coming to find that much can be learned from the cold bathroom tile.

I don’t have to smile and pretend I’m okay.

I don’t have to share my secrets in places that aren’t safe.

And sometimes it takes stripping away the comforts to see that your life matters.

Because it does.
Because it always will.

—

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