Dear Matt,

“You know how much I hate that everybody just expects me to bounce back.”

Dear Matt,

It’s my time to heal now. And it took time—serious time—to get here.

In many ways, I felt like you were the only one who gave me ‘permission’ to take as much time as I needed.

There were practical things that needed to be done. Calling HR, scheduling therapy appointments, filing paperwork, and the list goes on and on and on and on. At that stage in my life, I literally could not even brush my own teeth. Accomplishing any of those things was impossible, so I didn't. We tried to go out, I tried to be normal, and when I failed, you let me fail. And you did it with such grace.

You let me wallow. You let me throw so many pity parties. You let me stay in bed until 3 p.m.

When my despair was so dark and so deep and made everyone else feel uncomfortable, you closed the curtains. This is a literal metaphor. You closed the fucking curtains. You let me sit with my darkness, in the dark. You let me sleep it away. Cry it away. Until I had no more tears.

And you kindly encouraged me to eat, instead of demanding it. You would text me when we were separated by just a room and ask me if I wanted to watch a movie, but you never pressured me. I never felt rushed to “get better.” You never made me feel weak or selfish or pitiful or dramatic.

You let me heal on my own terms.

Thank you.