The Hardest Work You'll Ever Do
Therapy isn’t a warm cup of tea and a cozy blanket.
It’s more like picking up the rug you’ve been sweeping things under for decades, only to find the dust is heavier than you imagined.
This morning, I sat with my therapist talking about “emotional childhood neglect.”
That phrase sounds cold, clinical. But it’s not about blaming or accusing my parents. I know they loved me. I know they still do. And I truly believe they did the best they could with what they had.
But love alone doesn’t erase the absence of certain needs.
When emotional needs go unseen, unspoken, or unacknowledged, no matter the intent, it can leave quiet gaps that echo into adulthood. Gaps that show up in ways you don’t always recognize: hesitating to speak up, doubting your worth, believing you’re “too much” or “not enough” all at once.
Therapy is where you start noticing those echoes.
It’s hard.
It’s draining.
Some days, it feels like you’re walking barefoot through a field of broken glass, wondering why you even started.
But it’s also where understanding begins.
It’s where the puzzle pieces of your life start clicking together. And as painful as it is, that understanding is what makes healing possible.
I’ve learned therapy isn’t about “fixing” yourself.
It’s about finding yourself.
It’s about becoming the person you needed when you were little. It’s about offering yourself the love, care, and safety you missed—not because anyone meant to withhold it, but because they couldn’t give what they didn’t know how to give.
And yes, it hurts. But sometimes pain is just the sound of old wounds finally being cleaned out so they can heal.
xx
