Bucking Assumptions that Therapy Is A Waste of Time

Mornings away from home
My body grows stiff
Hours spent sitting the car
A tailbone crunch.

Away, in a new environment,
In this paused state of mind
Where decision stands still,
I wonder how to keep going
Brandishing middle age now
Within a life that is
Inspired, safe and filled
With people I care about.

I plan to keep those
Who are good for me, close,
And those who offer
Less positive influences
At a distance, or banished,
If necessary, for my mental health

And me, I plan to know and be able to
Determine the difference…

Momentary paralysis
Ends need meeting.
Time quality needs altering,
A revamping.
I’ll always be me, I suppose,
Weaker with distrust,
Strong with judgement, determination
And feelings of sheer terror
That the sky is indeed falling—
Feelings most potent at night.

But still.
Maybe the time has come
To hoist myself up into
A new realm of wellness
A fairy tale revision—
Quick, strike while the iron is hot,

Maybe I can finally start to
Let down my heavily armed
Personal and cultural guard
Which leans towards the
Assumption that therapy
Is for “undesirable, deranged people”
To open my arms to cognitive
Behavioral therapy—
Something I’ve been utterly
Closed off to using, previously.

Maybe there is something good
Waiting for me inside those sessions—

Structured strategies that
Hone in on how
To be the best person I can be,
Regardless of whether
Key romance pans out,
Language alterations to shift
Internal dialogue towards
Focusing on forging ahead by
Creating a life I want—

Maybe working with someone
Can help me foster a life
Filled with stronger,
More consistent ability
To fashion constructive solutions
For what lies ahead—
Things I can influence
Versus relentless rumination
Inside what is long over
And done with and thus is
An unchangeable past.

Life long ingrained habits
Encourage me to so often
Allocate endless useless energy
To recreating and reinforcing
Deep, directionless fury.

I want to harness the strengths
I do have to enable my days
and nights, in particular,
To look and feel vastly different
And I may need professional
Nudging to get me there.

Maybe not…

Maybe sessions will prove
Pointless (again) with me struggling
To gain anything from hour
Appointments except a wonder
As to why I even
Made the “effort”.

Any meager past attempts
Involved me dodging the person’s
Questions while playing mental games
To predetermine a result
Filled with pure nothing.

My frame of mind may be
More ripe now to be able to
Accept counseling help.
Wanting a change in
My ways of being,
I feel more motivated to try
To consider and then communicate
What I am seeking from
A trained person.

Hopefully I can find the
Right person who can reach me.

All of this—I won’t know for sure
Unless I finally
Make an appointment and
Embark on a journey to
Finally, truly try…



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