this is the sound of home.

day 7 of 14 this isn’t healing, it’s remembering how to sit with the parts that were always too loud to be loved.

31, may 2025

i didn’t know the ache would get louder when i stopped abandoning myself.

i thought healing would feel like peace.

but instead, it feels like the sound grief makes when it finally gets a room to scream in.

it echoes.

it doesn’t care that i lit a candle or saged the space or saged myself even.

it doesn’t care that i’ve read the books.
went to church every time the doors were open.
zipped myself up inside skin of a woman that did what the world told her she should.
let self-loathing canabilize me.

it just wants to be heard.

so i let it.

i let the ache climb up my throat like smoke.

i let it fill the room like a song no one remembers how to end.

i didn’t try to fix it.

i didn’t try to make it holy.

i just let it hurt.

and somewhere inside the ache, a voice whispered:

“this is the sound of coming home.”

not to comfort.

not to answers.

but to myself.

to the part of me that always felt too much and stayed quiet about it.
the problem child who grew into a problem adult.

to the part of me that broke in silence and kept smiling.

to the part of me that needed a witness more than a solution.

so here i am.

no fix.

just presence.

and that?

that’s enough.

—t.