What brings me peace is the rare and unique mixture of being understood — not in the shallow way of small talk and polite smiles, but in the deep, soul-level resonation that feels like a sun ray breaking through an unending gloomy crown cover. It is when another person chooses to get close enough to hear not only the words but to truly sit and understand them, Understanding the silent pauses, soft sniffles, the subtle tremors of my hands. Skills like they cannot be learned, they are the gift of empathy. It is the patience to sit through my long sentences, to honor the weight that I carry without demanding that I set it down before I am ready.
In those moments, the noise in my head softens. I feel lighter and heard. My extensive invisible armor I have worn for years loosens at the seams. Feeling unjudged for my frayed insides, for my overburdened mind and fearful demeaner. I am not forced to wear my dilapidated worn mask. Not forced to cloak my painful truth in exchage of something more palatable. Instead, I am met exactly where I am, in the reality of my being, the unvarnished, perilous minefield that I call home. To feel heart this depth is to be reminded that my existence does not need constant translation, constant rephrasing and constant censorship. it is to know that I may not be a burden. My feelings not too loud, nor my silences too long. It is like cupping water, not to hold it captive, but to let it shimmer and run. Letting me exist as I am, without any qualms or titration. I can finally exhale, my muscles relax and my stomach unknots. I realize that the pain I carry, can be lighter when held by two.
Sana bhatnagar 
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