She sits in her chair with her cell phone ringing off the hook, but she continues to stare at me in amazement at how upset I’m getting. She’s trying to understand my issues and she just doesn’t get it. She’s giving me a poem that she thinks can ease my pain. A poem won’t ease my pain; I need someone to talk to. The couch underneath me is uncomfortable, which won’t make expressing myself any easier. The surrounding area is lit with candles and incense to calm me, but they’re making me dizzy and tense.
I want to be able to tell her exactly how I feel, but I know that it’s just too hard. I’m not ready to let her in that much. She tells me that there are so many people just like me, the same age, going through the same problems. I don’t need to hear that people are like me. I need to hear how I can be fixed. Do I even need to be fixed? Is there really anything wrong with me anyway? If so many people are just like me why do I always feel so alone when there are a million people around me?
Can you give me answers for my questions? She needs to know that I’m inquisitive and that I demand answers. Mindy* the therapist always says “Don’t worry if you just plan your time wisely, you can and will get through this.” Planning my time wisely won’t help the strong pain I feel inside. Please, Mindy I’m begging, find a way to help my bruised soul. My heart is like a broken record and my feelings keep replaying over and over again. It’s the same song and I’m tired of it; I want to learn a new beat.
They say it’s okay to feel this way as long as I’m happy. Well, I’m not happy. I’ve never been more disturbed or aggrieved. I need some direction to find myself again. Who can lead me? This, I believe, is the reason why talking to others sometimes doesn’t help. When you talk to another person, they can’t always help ease the pain your heart feels. You are the only one who can take the hurt away. Someone else can’t always solve your problems.
Did it work? It worked as much as a square peg fits into a round hole. Every time that I went to that little house on Main Street I’d think to myself; we’re paying her $90 and how clear is my mind? NOT clear. It’s been a waste of my time, my parents’ money, and my words. You might wonder how I figured out that she just did it for the money. I would have to say it was the time I couldn’t go because I was sick. We called 2 hours before and she said we still owed her 90 freaking dollars. We’re paying whether she helps me or not. If this process didn’t work for me, is there a process I haven’t tried that will? I think about the spiritual side of myself and I think I might be able to cure this. I have to look deeper then the surface.
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