Therapy

In this inaugural post I wanted to name a few of my intentions with beginning to blog: it seems a wonderful way to share and chronicle resources for clients, colleagues, and the passerby; I appreciate the process and practice of writing; I like that it gives relational continuity to those I already know and prospective clients a sense of me and my approach. 

Writing is also challenging. Something we all know, and a reality psychotherapist and client must grapple with in every session, is how words can be both maddeningly limiting and incredibly liberating. Fitting the experiential, so full of paradox and physicality, into a symbolic language structure is a gift we humans get to bear. 

I appreciate how poetry offers us a space large and containing enough to unwrap this gift for ourselves and others, and play. Poetry has been a great source of solace when I've most needed it, provided me a sense of connection when I've felt alone, and given me a voice when I've had none. I wanted to share a poem new to me that when I read recognized as indeed therapy. 

Poem by: Nayyirah Waheed

the hard season

will

split you through.

do not worry.

you will bleed water.

do not worry.

this is grief.

your face will fall out and

down your skin

and

there will be scorching.

but do not worry.

keep speaking the years from 

their hiding places.

keep coughing up smoke

from all the deaths you have

died.

keep the rage tender.

because the soft season will

come.

it will come.

loud.

ready.

gulping.

both hands in your chest.

up all night.

up all of the nights.

to drink all damage into love.

- therapy