Episode 19: First Therapy Session
Hi everyone, I hope you’re doing as well as you can be today. This week’s poem and episode explore fears around trying therapy for the first time, juxtaposed with the experience of telling someone you love them. We step into a stream of consciousness as someone journals their thoughts, navigating hesitancies around how therapy may or may not help them. It’s easy to feel like you have to fit into a box of what’s ‘normal’ or ‘acceptable’ to struggle with (and how this is at odds with what you may actually need to bring to therapy). Woven into our poem is an example of how to love someone without ever having said the words.
I’ll share it with you now:
Late last night, I told
my best friend that I loved them
knowing that they didn’t
feel the same way.
I know exactly why I did this.
Because I’m trying
therapy for the first time today
and “I love someone who doesn’t
love me back” seems like
a more normal/acceptable thing
to need a therapist for—
easy to pull from my back pocket
instead.
Instead of what?
Oh. Oops.
Everything, I guess, that
can’t be fixed by mixing & matching
mindfulness, medication, more gratitude.
Will it be safe to say:
I don’t want to adopt
ways to survive
a harmful environment
where I don’t know what
it feels like to be loved?
Or
that I want to heal
the bridges
between
my ancestry,
my past,
my now?
So I texted them—
last night and not knowing
what to expect of anything—
with this mini hope that they
might show me what being loved
feels like (so I wouldn’t need to meet
this therapist).
I just woke up. Trying to
journal now, clearly, before I need
to work up the courage to
either cancel or show up
because seemingly, I’ll be hiding
hurt twice now.
It’s a dark, damp morning.
My lamps are still off.
I’m writing illegible loops
on a pale pink sticky note pad
with my eyes closed
because I can’t see and
don’t want to anyway.
Bizz. Bizz. 6:23 a.m.
Oh goodness. Let me switch to a voice note.
They responded as soon as they saw it.
Here we go—either an out or
ready-made script for session one.
Why am I opening this so fast?
Do I want to drag my nails through
my open wound?
Of not only rejection
but confirmation?
Of not knowing
what being loved feels like?
Strange.
No, no. Not what you’re thinking.
They don’t feel the same and
trust me, I feel the painful pang.
But…no…and…
they said “I love you, too” in a no
less potent way. They said,
“I booked my morning off class and work
to drive you to your therapy appointment
(if you want me to) and I can be there
to pick you up. And I’ll always be here
to go with you
to every hard place.”
Now I’m crying
and thankful for voice notes.
On the end of my bed,
raincoat on,
I’ve written and spoken
this poem of sorts
but…no…and
I should give this therapist a chance.
I’m sure my best friend knows
I might even bring this moment
to therapy, yet they never swayed.
Tucking my toes into my boots
(and stomping my heel in)
I know
I still need therapy
and
I’m loved, too.
Breathe the words in. What do they make you feel or think? How did they connect with your senses? What colours or symbols did you notice? What meaning did you draw? Metaphors? Interpretations? Clarity? Messages?
