Once more your story resonates deep within my heart and soul. I feel it profoundly. Getting past the many traumas that have affected every aspect of my life has been an uphill battle. Like yourself, I have used just about every tool available. Meeting you through Substack has literally lifted me from one of my darkest periods. You have no idea how your words inspired me to be better to myself, to do better towards others as well. When I need a boost I re-read what you publish. I re-listen to your meditation prompts. Each time I am uplifted to a functional place once more. I am grateful you are alive and accessible. I need you selfishly and unapologetically. Thank again Alex. There are just not words created to express how very grateful I am to you and in turn to Substack for leading me to meet you. Thank you is the best I can do. Please keep going in your quest toward aliveness, it is a worthy endeavor in every sense. You are truly one of a kind. ❤️🌼 BTW we both need to appreciate March more, since our birth month is a common thread that binds us, even though it holds serious pitfalls in our lives, it also holds great rebirth moments that strengthen our resolves. 😘
Thank you for your raw honesty, for being vulnerable for all of us! Traumas sometimes stay in our bodies and they reminder us of it. Healing never ends, it’s a continuous journey but being aware and accepting it’s important! Than you for this ❤️
I could have stopped at the title - healing doesn't mean finished. Even just those words spoke strongly to me, a justification that I'd figured that out - finally. After four years of therapy, I knew it was time to stop, even though I had work still to do. But life went on, and I noticed that growth continued. Life itself became therapy. I guess I'll never stop healing, which is quite the adventure.
“And I have witness. Luis knows now. The park has been named out loud. I don’t carry it alone anymore.”
This speaks to me so very much. I have my own version of a park—I think we all do. But there is such a relief and softening when we finally invite in a witness to help us not carry it alone. We can look at former events without squinting, even on the brightest, sunny day. I love your words SO much, Alexander. And the way you keep arriving with March is beautiful. 🤍
Absolutely love this! Your body is remembering you, preparing and protecting you. My second husband died unexpectedly in July 28 years ago, beginning the hardest 2 years of my life. July is now always a heavy month for me, even tho it is my birthmonth and that of my current hubby's.
Wonderful, difficult, heartfelt words hit my heart as my head nodded in agreement. Yes. There are those times/months and I’ve found the best thing to do, as you did, is see it and let it be.
Alex, when you write, sometimes I feel the ache in your writing. This was one of those times, but there was also release, an ease that followed. Thank you for sharing your words and your hurts with us, the healing power of words also comes through.
Oh, Alex, thank you for sharing your heart and for telling us why March is so hard for you. I remember reading the guest essay you wrote for my publication about a year ago and feeling immersed in your story. It was (and still is) so brave that you chose to share what you did, and I think about it from time to time. Your story gives me context to this one today, and it's those fleeting comments, like, "I turned 18 here" that somehow find a space to give voice to an ache or longing or wound. Those four words held such power, Alex, and I'm so glad Luis was there as your witness, to just hold them without trying to fill the space, like you said. What a gift. What a gift.
Wishing I could send you a ((hug)) right thru the wifi. Please have Luis do it in person (if that’s okay).
March is the month you cracked open the shell you once were raised within. You pecked your way out, and it was horrible, harsh and cold out there, and you deserved better than what you got. Yet now, you not only survived that, you’ve thrived. You’ve already become the marvelous human you were meant to be, and you’re sweet and kind, and valuable.
I wonder if there might be a new way to name the park… and the Month…. You spent 17 years in incubation, and this is where you were born. March truly is your birthday. It’s the horrible pain and the success you have made of yourself now. ♥️
I love you Alex. Your "throwing spaghetti on the wall" to see what sticks until there is nothing left to eat is a brilliant metaphor. Wow. That one hit. So many times I have invested in so many things that didn't stick and ended up with nothing left for myself. what I needed all along was someone to simply witness me, over and over again, until I stopped trying to fix things. Hobbit is that for me. I'm so happy you have Luis. I need to meet him someday.
Alex, what a beautiful share. So much in this touched me, resonated. But this line: “Until you realize your wall is covered in spaghetti and you have nothing left to eat.” Daaaaaang. Thank you for being you.
Once more your story resonates deep within my heart and soul. I feel it profoundly. Getting past the many traumas that have affected every aspect of my life has been an uphill battle. Like yourself, I have used just about every tool available. Meeting you through Substack has literally lifted me from one of my darkest periods. You have no idea how your words inspired me to be better to myself, to do better towards others as well. When I need a boost I re-read what you publish. I re-listen to your meditation prompts. Each time I am uplifted to a functional place once more. I am grateful you are alive and accessible. I need you selfishly and unapologetically. Thank again Alex. There are just not words created to express how very grateful I am to you and in turn to Substack for leading me to meet you. Thank you is the best I can do. Please keep going in your quest toward aliveness, it is a worthy endeavor in every sense. You are truly one of a kind. ❤️🌼 BTW we both need to appreciate March more, since our birth month is a common thread that binds us, even though it holds serious pitfalls in our lives, it also holds great rebirth moments that strengthen our resolves. 😘
Thank you for your raw honesty, for being vulnerable for all of us! Traumas sometimes stay in our bodies and they reminder us of it. Healing never ends, it’s a continuous journey but being aware and accepting it’s important! Than you for this ❤️
I could have stopped at the title - healing doesn't mean finished. Even just those words spoke strongly to me, a justification that I'd figured that out - finally. After four years of therapy, I knew it was time to stop, even though I had work still to do. But life went on, and I noticed that growth continued. Life itself became therapy. I guess I'll never stop healing, which is quite the adventure.
“And I have witness. Luis knows now. The park has been named out loud. I don’t carry it alone anymore.”
This speaks to me so very much. I have my own version of a park—I think we all do. But there is such a relief and softening when we finally invite in a witness to help us not carry it alone. We can look at former events without squinting, even on the brightest, sunny day. I love your words SO much, Alexander. And the way you keep arriving with March is beautiful. 🤍
Absolutely love this! Your body is remembering you, preparing and protecting you. My second husband died unexpectedly in July 28 years ago, beginning the hardest 2 years of my life. July is now always a heavy month for me, even tho it is my birthmonth and that of my current hubby's.
Wonderful, difficult, heartfelt words hit my heart as my head nodded in agreement. Yes. There are those times/months and I’ve found the best thing to do, as you did, is see it and let it be.
Alex, when you write, sometimes I feel the ache in your writing. This was one of those times, but there was also release, an ease that followed. Thank you for sharing your words and your hurts with us, the healing power of words also comes through.
Oh, Alex, thank you for sharing your heart and for telling us why March is so hard for you. I remember reading the guest essay you wrote for my publication about a year ago and feeling immersed in your story. It was (and still is) so brave that you chose to share what you did, and I think about it from time to time. Your story gives me context to this one today, and it's those fleeting comments, like, "I turned 18 here" that somehow find a space to give voice to an ache or longing or wound. Those four words held such power, Alex, and I'm so glad Luis was there as your witness, to just hold them without trying to fill the space, like you said. What a gift. What a gift.
And what a gift you are to us, to me.
As always your words touch my heart in a way that leaves me a little softer. Thank you for writing what I needed to hear today. 🙏💖🙏💖
Ps. And thank you for being you and showing up in this place so we have a lighthouse in our own healing.
Wishing I could send you a ((hug)) right thru the wifi. Please have Luis do it in person (if that’s okay).
March is the month you cracked open the shell you once were raised within. You pecked your way out, and it was horrible, harsh and cold out there, and you deserved better than what you got. Yet now, you not only survived that, you’ve thrived. You’ve already become the marvelous human you were meant to be, and you’re sweet and kind, and valuable.
I wonder if there might be a new way to name the park… and the Month…. You spent 17 years in incubation, and this is where you were born. March truly is your birthday. It’s the horrible pain and the success you have made of yourself now. ♥️
Your March is my April. Thank you for presenting it in a profoundly soothing and healing way. ✨
I love you Alex. Your "throwing spaghetti on the wall" to see what sticks until there is nothing left to eat is a brilliant metaphor. Wow. That one hit. So many times I have invested in so many things that didn't stick and ended up with nothing left for myself. what I needed all along was someone to simply witness me, over and over again, until I stopped trying to fix things. Hobbit is that for me. I'm so happy you have Luis. I need to meet him someday.
Alex, what a beautiful share. So much in this touched me, resonated. But this line: “Until you realize your wall is covered in spaghetti and you have nothing left to eat.” Daaaaaang. Thank you for being you.
Thank you, Alex. Your writings are profoundly teaching me that healing is just another word for life. ❤️