This, this here is my therapist....
The road of 2017 has been tough so far, so very tough. I've been on my knees sobbing more times than I can bear to think about.
I've had days when anger and frustration have taken over me, days when I'm consumed by grief and bitterness, days when I just don't want to 'people' and days when the voice in my head Just. Won't. Shut. Up.
It's a lot to carry even for my broad shoulders.
I do my best to be a functioning adult, but there are moments so dark I can feel myself sinking further, so I lock myself away with my therapist until I can face the world again. Sometimes it's 20 minutes, sometimes it's an hour and other times I'm coming back day-after-day-after-day, muscles sore and cramping, knuckles and elbows skinned but I am there. Each punch is an inarticulate emotion, a thought, a fear, a release. Each kick is a wordless shout to be understood.
I will keep being there.
I will keep being there.
