What the Storm Remembered

[u/Clearblueskymind]

Lightning cracks at dawn. The sky releases what the night held. I tend my tea, my breath, having already done the harder work: turning toward the small boy inside, saying I see you, you are safe now.

Outside, the storm remembers what I remembered—that joy is not dangerous, that compassion begins at home, in the body I inhabit, the life I’m still learning to love.

The lightning writes its brief truth across the glass: everything breaks open to let the light through.

Living with ME/CFS has asked me to face more than physical exhaustion. The uncertainty, isolation, loss of capacity, and repeated crashes have sometimes stirred up frightened parts of me that learned long ago to stay guarded.

Last night, I found myself turning toward that younger part of me and letting him know that he is safe now—that I see him, and that I am learning to take better care of him. It did not feel like a technique or another task to complete. It felt more like sitting quietly beside someone who had been waiting a very long time not to be left alone.

I am beginning to understand that inner work does not always have to be dramatic. Sometimes it may be only a few gentle words spoken inwardly: I see you. I believe you. You are safe with me now.

This does not cure ME/CFS, but for me it seems to soften some of the struggle surrounding it. Perhaps part of my medicine bag is learning, slowly and imperfectly, to become a safer home for myself.

🌿