10 Years of Therapy in 10 Steps
A poem
1. You ask yourself why the fuck you signed up for therapy. You think of the cost of one hour. You hate yourself for wasting money being so depressed you sunk into a dimension without time.
2. You yell at your mother at least once before sessions to have something to talk about. You mistake big emotions for productivity. You make sure to cry at least once a month.
3. Having made no progress, you resent yourself and your therapist. You are still messed up. You are needy, so needy, for something no one can give you.
4. The unspeakable forces you to sign up for therapy again.
5. Your new therapist says progress comes in waves. It’s more like looping circles than a straight line. You believe her because perfection is no longer the goal—surviving day to day is.
6. In Grade 6 when you started feeling an ache in your chest, your class went on a trip to the beach where there loomed a ten-meter dive deck. Each session feels like jumping off this deck. Careful to avoid the barnacles on the beams.
7. You meet past versions of yourself in each session: seven years old, twelve, sixteen.
8. You observe them. This lingering agony was theirs first before it became yours.
9. You hold them close.
10. You don’t want to waste any more time. You finally feel alive. The circles spiral towards the sun.
Thank you for reading and may you be blessed with therapy that doesn’t take ten years. Here are a few of my links if you’d like to check out more of my work:
#10 🥹