Labyrinth Therapeutic Services

06/09/2026

This one hurts because it’s also a resounding feeling from the peer space.

An Open Letter From a Therapist To a Client Contemplating Su***de,

If you’re reading this and you’re thinking about ending your life, I want you to hear this from me.

I would care. More than you think I would.

I know there’s a part of you that believes you’re a burden. That maybe even I would understand… or move on… or that it wouldn’t really matter in the long run if you were here or not.

But that’s not true.

I would notice your absence immediately. The empty space where you were supposed to be. The silence where your voice used to fill the room. I would think about our conversations—the ones where you opened up even when it was hard, the moments you almost gave up but didn’t, the pieces of yourself you entrusted me enough to share.

I would carry that.

Not as a case. Not as just another client. But as you.

I would wonder if there was something more I could have said, a moment I could have held onto longer, a way I could have helped you stay. Because you matter to me—not just as someone I work with, but as a human being I’ve come to know and care about.

I’ve seen your strength, even when you couldn’t see it yourself. I’ve seen you survive days that felt impossible. And I know how loud the pain can get—I’ve sat with you in it.

But I also know this: the part of you that keeps showing up, even now, is still there.

I know I can’t fix everything. I know it doesn’t help to overwhelm you with solutions.

But let’s get through this moment together.
Just this one.

You don’t have to decide anything about forever right now.

Please don’t disappear without giving yourself the chance to be held in this a little longer—with me, with someone, with anyone.

Because you are not someone I could ever just forget.
And your life is not something that wouldn’t matter if it were gone.

It matters to me.

And I want you here.

06/09/2026

In this work, you hear the same question dressed up a hundred different ways:

“Why didn’t I leave?”
“Why did I go back?”
“Why didn’t I fight harder?”
“Why do I still feel like it was my fault?”

And underneath all of it is the same belief:
I should have done something differently. I should have been someone different.

I’ve sat across from people who were kids when it happened—kids who learned to stay quiet because speaking up made things worse.
People who froze when they were hurt, and now hate themselves for not fighting back.
People who went back to someone who broke them, not because they’re weak, but because that person also knew exactly when to be kind.
People who were never taught what “normal” or “safe” even looked like.

Trauma doesn’t happen in a clean, obvious moment where you get to pause, assess, and make the “right” decision. It happens in real time, in messy environments, often with power, fear, love, or survival all tangled together.

Your brain’s job in those moments wasn’t to be perfect.
It was to get you through.

So maybe you froze.
Maybe you stayed.
Maybe you minimized it.
Maybe you adapted in ways that made sense then but hurt now.

That’s not failure. That’s survival.

The guilt people carry years later is often built on the assumption that they had more control than they actually did.

You didn’t.

You didn’t have the power you think you had.
You didn’t have the information you have now.
You didn’t have the safety you deserved.

And it wasn’t your fault.

Not then.

But here’s the part that matters now:

You do have power here.
In this moment.
In what you choose next.

Not power to erase what happened—but power to decide how you care for yourself because of it.

Power to tell the truth without minimizing it.
Power to stop carrying blame that was never yours.
Power to set boundaries that once felt impossible.
Power to choose people, spaces, and patterns that don’t recreate the harm.

Healing isn’t about pretending you could have done better back then.
It’s about realizing you can do something different now.

And that shift—from “it was my fault” to “it’s my responsibility to care for myself now”—that’s where your power lives.

06/08/2026

Hey friends, IF you’ve ridden with us before you’re eligible for our peer trail ride this Saturday!!

There’s still a few saddles open, sign up today!

Www.LabyrinthTS.org

06/05/2026

Here’s a quick message from one of our board members.

Fair Warning: this one cuts a little deeper than some of the others.

Proud to share your insight and story brother!

05/31/2026

The sunset tonight was absolutely beautiful. Made me think of Zach Bryan’s east side of sorrow song.

05/30/2026

My friends, I have been working tirelessly on labyrinth for years now.

Siamotainously, I have been working on finding healing within myself.

Labyrinth is literally the tangible byproduct of my own healing journey. My purpose in founding it and my “job” at the helm is to share my journey and most importantly practice what I preach.

I am the farthest thing from a perfect anything; up until 5 ish years ago I could have probably written a great book on how not to heal, while making life harder.

The goal now is that my pain can have a purpose and hopefully pave a path for someone else to find their own hope.

Today I took a step into the unknown to breech the walls I’ve built to survive my own hell and it actually scared me to face it; unfortunately growth is not ever comfortable.

I did it because I deserve to be whole again, my wife deserves the best husband I can be, my daughter deserves the best father and my step sons deserve the best bonus human I can be.

And lastly, you, my peers, family and friends deserve a whole me.

Much like a phoenix rising from its ashes; I am more whole and at peace after today than I have been in a very long time and this is just the beginning.

Let’s go!

🇺🇸🫡

05/28/2026

In a hilariously unexpected turn of events Kat Delaney and I “kidnapped the band” we met for lunch…

Citizen Soldier thanks for hanging! Can’t wait for the show tonight.

🇺🇸🫡

05/25/2026

MEMORIAL DAY
Today is Memorial Day. A sacred day to remember the brave men and women who served and defended our great nation and sadly made the ultimate sacrifice for us all.

As a Gold Star father and State Representative, my heart is with every fallen hero, every family carrying the pain of loss, and every service member standing watch today around the world.

I am thinking of all our troops and all our Gold Star families, including my son, U.S. Marine Corporal Nicholas G. Xiarhos. For Gold Star families, every day is Memorial Day. The pain never leaves, but neither does the pride.

Today, we deeply appreciate the love, support, and kindness shown to our families and to the memory of those we lost.

Freedom is never free. It comes at a tremendous cost borne by the families, friends, and brothers and sisters in arms who miss their loved ones every single day.

But today, we are not alone.

Nick’s last words to his mother were:
“Don’t worry about me, Mom. I’m living the dream.”

Those words now carry even greater meaning for our family.

So today, I ask everyone to remember this:
Live your dream for all those who never got the full chance to live theirs.

Take time today to remember our fallen and the families they left behind. Live worthy of the sacrifices made for our freedom. Be grateful. Be kind. Love your family. Serve something bigger than yourself. Never take this nation for granted.

Nick rests in peace in his dress blues at the Massachusetts National Cemetery here at home on Cape Cod. At the end of the day today, our family will spend time together remembering, honoring, and loving him always.

God bless.
🇺🇸⭐️🙏🏻🫡

The Nicholas G. Xiarhos Memorial Fund
Big Nick's Ride for the Fallen
2nd Battalion 8th Marines- Front Toward Hero
Massachusetts National Cemetery
Taps Across America

05/24/2026