therapy

i am always breathless after therapy, it is probably because of the constant conversation. i have habitually been horrible when it comes to conversing with other people, and to think of lying down on this stranger’s sofa speaking about myself for 50 minutes three days a week is pretty much a nightmare. i realized however that it is necessary to persevere through what makes us uncomfortable because life is about surviving unfair choices and i have faltered too many times to count.

therapy scares me because it forces me to dig deeper into my mind, and my mind and i do not have a friendly relationship. my mind tells me i am nothing, it tells me that the hollow feeling at the pit of my stomach is all that i will ever be. therapy scares me because i am being forced to understand my mind, and it is invariably difficult to understand someone who has been nothing but hostile towards you. nonetheless i keep moving forward, breaking the barriers i have created for myself, attempting to trick my mind the same way that it has been tricking me.

many of the people i know of go to therapy, and i think it is because our generation is being consumed by this strange sadness manifesting from the horrible history of mankind. it is difficult to not lose your mind, even if it’s a little bit, in a world where humanity is faltering. it is laborious not to experience anger when your loved ones keep betraying your trust. we are being conditioned by constant misinformation, falling into ideologies without realizing the larger consequences of our words and actions.

everyone is searching for understanding, without realizing that we must also learn to give it first. nothing ever comes easy, our parents consistently remind us this while growing up and they aren’t wrong. it is a strenuous life, a life that doesn’t even feel like a life to me. i am nothing extraordinary, just another woman who has seen the way the world has been stacked against us. i tell my therapist that my life feels like a simulation designed to work against me. her big red bindi first scared me because my first thought went to religion, and religion more than anything else has given me pain, has suffocated me to the point of madness. her big red bindi gives me comfort now, my mother tells me that it represents feminism. now i don’t know how much of that is true but i would like to believe she is right as it only makes the connection i feel with her stronger.

lana spoke about how she was in the winter of her life, and i understand because i feel the same way. i am in the winter of my life, and i am striving to find my middle ground. i imagine it to be similar to autumn, my favorite season of the year. it is peaceful, and my mind no longer tells me that the emptiness is all i am, and even if it does, i no longer believe it.