A lot of people have problems admitting they see a therapist. I guess i don’t see the point in hiding it. That being said, I had a session today and my therapist said something that threw me back into my seat a little. Floored me. Like someone stepped on the gas too fast and the laws of physics forced me backwards when really I wasn’t moving as fast as the vehicle that I was riding in. I was an object at rest forgetting my seatbelt, hold on tight and keep all limbs within the confines of the car at all times.
It’s not been any easy time coping. Nothing feels right and there is no “I” in motivation… even though there is an “I” in motivation. I am not motivated, and therefore “I” am not in motivation. That I is obviously somebody else.
Anyway, she asked me if I was doing the things I like to do. You know, read, write, play music and such. I’m a creative person or thought I was. Lately, I’ve just been struggling with getting through the day and finding the will to stay awake until it’s time for bed and so when she focused on the music I told her I’d been playing guitar a little but mostly I’ve just been listening. She snapped back like a backhand slap to the face with as much gentleness as her profession requires when she said,
“No. You’re not just a participator. You’re a doer”
I sank deep into that really soft couch. I ripped a floating rib bone from my side and whittled it down to a toothpick to pick and flick the bits of that statement I was left to chew on, trying to balance my mind on the thin wire that knew she was right and I thought about myself and all the time I’m wasting away doing nothing, not being happy mostly because I feel like I lack identity. I am not real to the world around me but I can’t be myself because half the time I don’t know what that is. At least, not anymore. I’ve been swimming too long in poisoned amniotic fluid, waiting for the world to show me how to be born into what I was made to become
And I’m becoming impatient. Break the water.
The words collided with something I’ve been thinking about for days. I know, in my heart, I was meant to do something great. I like to do things, I am a doer but, when everything attempted has failed, where do you go? I am a ghost of a man staring into a mirror hoping for a glimpse of my own reflection but getting nothing but blank space. I just haven’t got the courage to rip off this sheet with two holes for eyes long enough to get a good look, thinking maybe it will tell me something other than what I already know and that’s a whole lot of nothing.
I am a shark, a great white (this has nothing to do with ego) who swims to keep himself alive, to keep water passing past these gills so I can sustain my habit of living a while longer. But when a shark stops swimming it dies. When I stop moving, well… I guess you could say that it has not been the greatest of months and I have not been the greatest of anything. My heart’s just not into it right now and I find it hard to keep moving. This time of year is always the hardest. Always.
I don’t know what to do
[Welcome to the crossroads]