Each week,
once a week,
for as long as I care to remember
there has been a room with a door.
There has been professional behind it,
a confessional.
There is always the obligatory greeting,
and the awkward pause
before I dive in to the deep end
of whatever subject is nagging at me this week.
Or the last series of weeks,
or my entire life.

Sometimes the subject is me
and I talk as if I'm writing in my diary.
I can be very honest, because there is the door.
The door blocks the world, and blocks the professional
from becoming a blabbing-machine.
Or even from judging me.
I can say whatever I like, no matter how childish,
no matter how evil,
no matter how shocking....
I have even shocked myself, on quite a few occasions,
saying things I hadnt realized I really meant.
Those are what I like to call small epiphanies,
and I like to think that is what this room was built for.

A lot of times,
lately,
I talk about you.
Sometimes, my mind dries up. Unlike when I talk about myself.
With myself, I have endless amounts of analysis and insight,
with you...
you are a braille page to me.
I know there is something there to read, but the language is indecipherable.
I sit in the chair and run my fingers over you, again and again,
trying to discern you.
I can observe you,
but I have no Rosetta stone.

The professional says:
Patience.
Time.
Love yourself.
Remain calm.
Remain supportive,
find your own support system.
Reach out.
Self-soothe.
Practice distress tolerance.
Hone your interpersonal relationship skills.
Remember your goals.
Patience.
Patience.
Patience.

Sometimes,
when the words coming out of my mouth are too distressing,
I break with eye contact and stare out the window, or at the floor.
I stare through the wall,
and I see your face.
I see you, because you are why I am here.
I realized I had to help myself to help us.
And I had to help myself to help you.
I realized that the time for childishness was over,
the time to grow was now.
I realized that the old ways werent working anymore,
so I had to find new...
I realized these things because of you.

01/27/2009

Author's Note: Im not sure if im done with this one. it feels to me like there needs to be another stanza...hmm...

Posted on 01/27/2009
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