To My Parents, My Safe Place

To my parents—

I’ve been thinking lately about everything you’ve seen me through. Everything you’ve stood beside me for. And the truth is, I don’t say thank you enough. I don’t acknowledge often enough how much chaos I’ve caused, how many storms I’ve dragged you through, and how unwavering your love has been through it all.

You’ve seen me at every stage of “crazy”—the childhood tantrums, the teenage mood swings where I was truly a nightmare (I’m still sorry for that), and the rollercoaster of my 20s: messy, wild, unpredictable, full of impulsivity, heartbreak, and growth. You’ve watched me rise and fall, sometimes in the same week. You've been there for the manic highs and the crushing depressive lows. You’ve seen me spiral, rage, shut down, disappear into myself. You’ve seen me numb, and you’ve seen me raw.

There’s one moment I’ll never forget. That night after the gummy that hit way too hard—I was panicked, crying, shaking on your bedroom floor. You didn’t scold me. You didn’t say “calm down” or make me feel ashamed. You sat with me, held space, got me through it. That night could have been terrifying and lonely, but instead it turned into a moment I now smile about, because you made it safe. We even laugh about it now. That’s who you are to me: the ones who turn my fear into something survivable. The ones who turn even the worst nights into something we can carry together.

Mom, thank you for supporting my healing. You always push me to grow, not with pressure, but with encouragement. You believe in the woman I’m becoming, even when I’m not sure I believe in her myself. You listen when I spiral. You hold space when I shut down. You’ve learned right alongside me—about trauma, about mental health, about how to support without trying to fix. You’ve shown me that growth doesn’t mean perfection, it means showing up, again and again.

Dad, thank you for making me tough. Not in a “get over it” kind of way, but in the way you’ve modeled strength, steadiness, and grit. You taught me how to endure. You showed me that being tough doesn’t mean being cold—it means being rooted. Being solid. And because of you, I keep standing.

You’ve both given me the greatest gift: a safe place to land. I’ve sat in your bed in the middle of the night, broken and exhausted and afraid, and never once felt like too much. You’ve never made me feel like a burden. You’ve always made me feel loved, no matter what version of myself I brought through your door.

So this is just me saying thank you. For being my safe space. For loving me when I didn’t know how to love myself. For walking with me through the chaos and never once turning away.

I love you, always.
—Devon