Pain As Clues

Today was "going to therapy" day.
I dread this.
I need this.
So I put on my happy face and go...

His door is open,
so in I go.
He's not in the room, so I sit down and wait.
The urge to bolt hangs on me,
like old heavy dusty curtains.
But I white knuckle it and stay.

He comes in with his calming presence
and smiles.
(Sometimes I find that painful.)
He asks me questions.
I, in turn, answer as honestly as I can...

It's a prosess I know.
Hating it and wanting it all in the same breath.
The Darkness that lingers in my soul,
has once again grown.
It blots out my Sun and Moon.
Even the stars have faded.

We talk.
I cry.
And then we talk some more...
We decide to try something new.
I feel like I am weak,
and tell him so.
He tells me I am strong enough to
keep trying to find my Joy.
I cry some more.

This is the prosess.
Each time I try to learn more about me.
To see the pain as clues.
The past as lessons.
My sorrows as stepping stones
 to a bright new day...

So my hour is up.
I dry my tears as I make my next appointment.
I make my promise to try this
new approach to my illness.
And then out the door I go...

I find myself smiling as I leave.
As much as I hate going in,
it is a good thing I do.
For here in the dark I go to find some light.
Some hope.
Some peace.
Proving to myself, I am stronger then I thought...