Friday night I intentionally took an evening home while Mark went out with friends. I was ready for a peaceful evening. It was peaceful. But when the body slows down, the emotions catch up.

I read an article that evening entitled, “I Don’t Need ‘I Believe You.’ I Need ‘I’ll Stand up for You.’” by Karen Reid. Karen’s words sent a wave through me. I’m open and I’m not about my experiences with sexual violence and ptsd. Articulating what I felt about this article is challenging without sharing more than I am comfortable or unintentionally negating my gratitude for the people who are in my corner and believe me.

But this…

“We’re conditioned to be grateful when someone believes us, as though they’re doing us a favor. […] A situation has been created where victims are supposed to be satisfied with being believed, feel that it’s the most we can expect, and that no further action is required.”

Inaction keeps us all in a perceived safe space where we feel like we can control the information. It keeps me safe from having to confront more people and emotions (and possibly disbelief and shame) before I am ready. The pace of healing is slow and imperfect.

I can be grateful for and hurt by this at the same time. There is no direct or correct path. We are all doing the best we can. If you are in my corner, know that I am deeply grateful for the belief and support with which I have been met. I have intentionally asked for silence and inaction. Yet on a week when the silence feels louder and more apparent, it’s ok to admit that it hurts.

I fell asleep that night trying to breathe through the seemingly ever-present night-time triggers. The hopeless thought crossed my mind, “This never ends.”

Skip to Sunday morning. As I poured coffee into one of my favorite mugs, my heart was warm with memories from the evening before. Saturday night, some of our closest friends gathered in our kitchen, sharing homemade soups in some of my favorite coffee mugs.

How fortunate to be surrounded by that kind of love. Music played, our dogs trotted through the maze of friends’ legs, seeking scraps of food and love. Our bellies were full. We shared a buzz that wasn’t wasted, but warm and cheerful.

This morning, my immediate thought was to snap a shot of the mugs for Instagram. And then I reminded myself, that’s not the full picture. The low of Friday and the high of Saturday both existed within me. And despite the cheer we all shared Saturday night, I would venture that each of my friends experienced a time this week that they too felt defeated or low or silenced.

Our hearts can be full, and we can acknowledge the low points too. Whether or not we recognize in the moment that this is what we’re doing, I’m grateful to be surrounded by good company in which to do so. We can be high and low. We can be grey. And it’s ok.