By Linda C J Turner, Therapist & Advocate

After four weeks away, I walked back into choir not quite knowing what to expect. Life has a way of moving forward while we’re away, and I wasn’t sure if I’d return to smiles or silence. But the moment I stepped into the familiar space—the warm faces, the gentle chatter, the shared breath of people preparing to sing—I was overwhelmed by something beautiful: kindness, warmth, and love.

There was an almost audible cheer when I shared the outcome of the court verdict. Their reaction wasn’t just about the news itself—it was about witnessing a chapter of my life close with justice and truth finally acknowledged. It was about them knowing the pain I had carried, even when I hadn’t spoken it aloud. Because somehow, over time, even silence becomes visible in the lines of your face, the heaviness in your voice, and the weariness in your presence.

One by one, they told me how different I looked. How the pain that had etched itself into my features had softened. How my face seemed freer. Lighter. More me.

Those words meant more than I can say. Not just because they saw the change—but because they had seen the pain. For years I wore it like a shadow, one that refused to lift no matter how hard I tried to hide it. But now, standing among friends, in a place where voices rise together in harmony, I felt something shift inside. The weight had lifted.

It’s strange, the way trauma lingers. It creeps into our posture, our tone, our joy. And when we begin to heal—truly heal—it’s often others who reflect the change back to us before we can see it ourselves. This was one of those moments. A mirror held up by kindness.

Choir has always been more than singing for me. It’s a form of connection. A shared rhythm of humanity. And in that room, surrounded by voices that welcomed me back with open arms, I realized something profound: healing isn’t just an internal journey—it’s also shaped by the safe spaces we return to.

To everyone who’s still carrying the weight of invisible wounds: know this. Healing is possible. And when it begins to show, not just in your words, but in your face and your energy—that is your light returning. And the people who truly see you will celebrate every step.

This Easter, may we all feel the power of resurrection—not just in tradition, but in our own stories. From pain to peace. From silence to song. From survival to joy.

With gratitude and love,
Linda Turner/ Linda C J Turner Therapy