I’m about to post one of the scariest blog post I have ever posted here. Scary, because it’s honest, true & it leaves very little room to hide. I’ve been rereading my text a zillion times by now & I want to spend the rest of the evening perfecting it. But I know in doing that, I might take the heart & soul out of every word I wrote. And that while, after days of feeling slightly down & uninspired, I have finally been able to write down what I really feel. Or at least part of what I feel.
I dared my heart to speak its mind. And this is what my heart had to say;
It’s me. It’s been a while, I know. ‘I’m cured’ or whatever we might like to call it. And I’m fine. Don’t you worry. I’m fine. Most of the time.
We’ve worked hard together; you & I. I’ve come a long way since we first met. And even though, I did most of the work, I couldn’t have done it without you. And quite honestly, I miss you sometimes. I miss the conversations we had, miss that small office space where I allowed myself to be the rawest version of myself. And I miss the thoughtful guidance which you provided & which I so needed. You were the perfect audience for my long overdue heartfelt conversions, the ideal narrator for my life’s story. Because I was so lost when I ended up on your doorstep. Lost. Frightened & far too small for the enormity of the society we live in.
I’m not too sure whether I should be writing this. Right here. Should I? What will people think of me? Those few people who actually read this blog, they might find a different place to go. They might think I’m crazy for owning up to the fact that I’m unable to always make it on my own. Admit that at some point in time I was at my absolute wits end as to how to live this life. This incredibly complicated life, with all it’s beautiful & terrifying twists and turns. I understand that it might be silly to put you & our time together down in writing and send it off into the world. I might be judged, fingers might be pointed & heads might shake.
But I don’t want to care too much. I’m tired of feeling dishonest, tired of dancing around this subject with carefully chosen words. Because there are not a great number of things in life that I’m truly proud off, but admitting that I needed help & seeking out that help, is an exception to that rule. I was petrified the first time we met. Petrified as I sat down on that chair, about to venture off into undiscovered parts of my soul. Now, looking back, I understand that taking that step has been the bravest thing I have ever done. And on top of that, it’s also been the greatest gift I could have ever given myself. I see now, what I couldn’t see back then; that I, despite it all, still loved myself enough to give myself a second chance. A real, solid chance to be happy again. A chance to get to know myself better than I ever did before & a chance to learn how to life with the person I was always bound to become. And it has paid off. It really has.
Dear Psychologist, I think about you. Every now and then I do. And lately I think about you often. What if you could see me now, I wonder. What if you could see me right here. Lost. One step forward, two steps back. What if you could see me now?
I’m fine. Fine most of the time. But every now and then life throws things at me that I feel I just can’t handle. Things I simply can’t work out on my own. And then I wish I could turn to you one last time, to share my sorrow & find a way out of the mess I feel I’m in at times.
Sometimes there is war in my head, conflicts too complex to understand. Sometimes there are sides to choice & stands to take. Sometimes there is the fear of uncontrollable diseases, incurable & larger than life, which seem to seep into the safety of my world. I lay awake & try to remember the things we talked about & how you helped me to feel strong in the midst of feeling small & frightened.
I spend days trying not to worry about the world & all its craziness, try to convince myself that worrying won’t get me anywhere. I go outside & embrace life fiercely, understanding the importance of every single day that I’ve been giving.
And so, I pick myself up. Time & time again. And for a proud moment, I stand tall…..until life happens again. Until life twists, until life turns. And I left wondering whether we will all make it. Wondering how on earth we are ever going to be alright again.
And that’s when I think of you. Of you & that room. The safety of it. The strength it gave me. The things you taught me. The things I must have taught myself. But at times I can’t remember any of them & then I feel lost again.
Dear Psychologist, I’m alright. Believe me. I’m okay. Or at least I will be. And I’m proud. Sometimes. And I’m grateful for the journey we made. Always. I’m just struggling. These days. But I will be fine. Someday.