A couple of months ago, a friend opened up to me about a childhood experience that they had buried somewhere in their memory. A piece of news had triggered the revival of that memory.
I was surprised. They reached out to me randomly.
I was happy. Because they shared.
I was sad. Because they had to go through it.
I asked questions. To understand how they were feeling at that moment. To know how they were dealing with it.
I was relieved. To know that sharing helped them heal.
I felt calm. Because their answers untangled some of my problems.
Continue reading here: