Did You Know

Hey there,

Did you know I actually got that greeting from you? That I found it so gentle and endearing that I adopted it for myself…for the people I want to show tenderness to.

Did you know I keep plants in my house because my love for them started in your office? Because the safety I felt there made me want to recreate that feeling in my own space. I think of you when I water them.

Did you know you were the first person outside of my wife who heard my story? That because of you, I now carry a quiet confidence that what I’m experiencing makes sense.

I learned how to be compassionate toward myself in your office, even if I didn’t show it much at the time, and even if it still falters.

Did you know that when I start to feel like a monster, I remember your voice telling me that my mistakes don’t make me a bad person? That punishing myself won’t help anyone?

Did you know I learned some of the most valuable lessons from how our work ended? How I was able to look back, to see my own patterns clearly for the first time, and how that awareness has helped me not repeat them.

I wish you could know that most of the time now, I can see how much you cared. I know my nervous system didn’t let me then, and that must have been hard…to be truly invested and not be believed.

Did you know that you’re who I think of when I think of a good person? Someone I want to be like.

Did you know that you’re an easy person to love? That you’re good at what you do? That you deserve to feel that way about yourself… to know that about yourself.

I know it. And I know others do too.

Did you know that I still hope for overwhelming goodness to find you? That life is filled with so much abundant happiness for you…and that you know you’re worthy of it.

My journey has gotten harder lately, and I know it’ll likely keep getting harder before it steadies. But the foundation is there now, one you helped me build. Even if it ended in pain, it was a necessary step. And I’m still walking forward on it.

Author’s Note:

This is a letter I’ll never send. Some connections stay alive in quiet ways… in a tone of voice we borrow, a plant we water, or the kindness we finally learn to give ourselves. It feels raw to publish my thoughts this openly, especially when they revolve around a very specific kind of grief. But I know restarting therapy has stirred those layers, making them louder and more consuming in my mind. Writing them out helps me let them breathe instead of letting them swallow me.