One Small Step at a Time

Aydan didn’t expect “good” to feel so uncomfortable or unfamiliar. He had felt “bad” for so long – it was all he could remember.

At sixteen, he had been at Thornwell for nearly one year when he sat across from his therapist, Jenny, with a hesitant smile. He kept turning the word over in his mind – “good” – like a stone he wasn’t sure he could keep. For a long time the therapy sessions had started the same way – tight shoulders, quick answers, eyes fixed on his shoes. There had always been crisis, something to survive.

But today, when she asked what he wanted to focus on, Aydan shrugged.

I don’t know,” he said. “I just… feel good. I don’t even know what to focus on for therapy anymore.”

At Thornwell, life had a rhythm. The cottage, the Teaching Parents who stayed steady even when he pushed them away, the grace when he messed up. It was different from anything he’d known, consistent in a way that began to feel suspiciously safe.

Therapy was part of that rhythm. Jenny, his therapist, was a consistent reliable presence – even when he really wished she would cancel or give up on him, walk out when he stayed silent.

Group therapy sessions too where he listened more than he spoke. Family therapy calls that felt awkward, then slowly less so. The horse he worked with during equine therapy.

Consistent. Reliable. Steady.

Even when he didn’t fully show up yet. Wasn’t willing to be fully present. Didn’t share his whole self.

On the worst days, no one gave up on him.

Somewhere along the way, he decided not to give up on himself either. He decided that maybe life wasn’t hopeless – he wasn’t hopeless. Maybe the promise of better really was possible. Not just a fairytale for other people who weren’t “broken.”

Now, sitting in that chair, Aydan realized there wasn’t a crisis waiting for him outside the therapy room. No constant pressure in his chest. No need to scan the room for what might go wrong.

Jenny leaned forward, “what do you think ‘good’ means for you?”

Aydan thought about it.

I think,” he said slowly, “it means I’m not just trying to get through the day, to simply survive.”

Good doesn’t mean done. It means he has tools now – ways to handle what comes next. And people to walk alongside him.

At Thornwell, we believe in healing that happens one small step at a time. And most of all, we believe in better tomorrows – for Aydan, and for every person learning that “good” is something they deserve.

We can’t always change what a child has been through, but we can make sure they are met with consistency instead of chaos, with compassion instead of silence, with people who stay.

People who remind them again and again that they are not alone.

*While these stories are based on true experiences, the names have been changed to respect their privacy