Therapy
I haven't been in a long while.
I used to go every week—therapy.
After my ex broke up with me I was really down.
It's what pushed me to finally start going.
It was actually a good thing she dumped me.
It wasn't a healthy relationship.
I needed to stop seeing her, but I didn't have the guts to end it?
Perhaps coldness is a better term or lack of feeling to break it off?
I thought it'd hurt her.
I knew things about her that'd make it cruel.
Maybe I am just rationalizing.
Or covering up.
Maybe I'll never know for sure—but regardless—therapy.
That's what I really wanted to talk about.
What I went through after the break-up.
I used to drive out to his house, the therapist.
He had long hair. Looked a bit like a member of a rock band.
Had his masters in biology, then mentored for 10 years by experts in the field.
The guy knew his stuff.
I remember the first night I went.
He had me breath deeply while he checked my chest area.
He pushed hard around my diaphragm.
It hurt, but that was part of the therapy.
He was working to loosen up my constricted muscles.
Then he had me hold a pillow in both hands, while laying on my back,
and shake the pillow as hard as I could.
It's strange, but I couldn't do it very long.
It felt like this giant hand pushed my arms down.
Made me stop.
I was armored is why he said—”It took a long time to get that way.”
He pointed to my chest.
My breathing was shallow.
It took months to make any real progress.
Even then it was slow.
You really had to earn it.
As hard as he worked, so did I.
I would breath deeply—continuously.
While he would intervene and work to loosen tight constrictions.
Sometimes long buried feelings would seem to come right out of the muscles.
Like they had been trapped there—until those muscles let go.
He was trying to reprogram my body to handle more oxygen,
more energy, more emotion—without clamping down.
Without tightening and shutting off feeling.
I must be done top down, slowly, carefully.
It takes a long time. Years in my case.
But amazing things started to happen.
Feelings long buried deep inside started emerging.
Things I had known as a child, but'd been hidden away by conditioning.
By society's censorship, it's accepted behavior model.
It's like your core values:
What you care about.
What you want to do.
What you really feel.
As a child you knew these things.
But societal conditioning takes this knowledge away.
It builds a wall between you and your inner compass.
You lose direction in life.
It happened to me when I became overweight as a kid.
I lost my way.
Strange to start finding it again, but 50 years later.
I went to see my therapist for 3 years.
Then I realized I was getting tired and needed to take a break.
I'd made a lot of progress.
I knew what to do now to process anger or sadness.
I was much more in touch with my true feelings.
My parents commented on how the change in me was so positive.
Too bad I didn't find this therapy so much earlier in life.
When I think of all the wasted years searching for—
What I wanted to do. What truly mattered to me.
Wow!
What a difference being in touch with your compass makes.
We all have it inside to guide us.
But when I see others, especially the young, lost, searching.
I nod and think I know what'd help.
That special type of therapy.
The sad thing is if I told them they wouldn't understand.
They'd think I was crazy.
So I'm afraid they have to find their own way.
Most won't, but some, a few—will.
Maybe one of them is you.
I hope so.