I once ran out of therapy.
It was more of a walk-run actually,
I was either nauseous or anxious,
they’re similar feelings,
Last time in therapy my therapist asked:
what’s something you’re really good at?
I should have said:
I didn’t say anything actually,
Sometimes in therapy,
my brain forgets how to speak,
and I watch my thoughts rollover in my head.
No but therapy is weird,
really it is.
Only in therapy can a blue swirly pattern on a pillow
become absolutely fucking fascinating!
Almost as fascinating as that painting
of the flying pig
that hangs on her wall.
You know sometimes in therapy,
I feel like Hansel and Gretel;
leaving a trail of breadcrumbs
as I walk towards that weird house in the woods,
hoping she’ll be able to save me
when I finally get there.
Except I think that I’ve out walked those two
by about two years.
You know sometimes,
it really hurts,
when you realize that fear
is blocking your ability to trust,
that’s all you want anyways.