The Group
Mara didn’t want to go.
The idea of sitting in a circle with strangers, swapping pain like trading cards, made her stomach churn.
But her therapist gently insisted. “You might hear something you need.”
The room was quiet when she walked in. Folding chairs. Paper cups of lukewarm coffee. Eyes that didn’t judge.
A woman spoke first, her voice steady. “Hi. I’m Jess. I’m tired of pretending I’m fine.”
Mara’s breath caught.
When it was her turn, she didn’t share her name.
She just said, “I’m here.”
And that, for the first time, felt like enough.
Leave a comment