When she asks me how I’m doing and I tell her I’m fine. All the times I heard that I’m strong asking for help. I am brave to open up, but my therapist keeps telling me I don’t tell her enough. She claims that I’m not honest with her about what I really think, what I really feel. I disagree with this claim, but of course I dont tell her this.
I can feel my fear starting to blossom every time she starts asking me questions to all the answers I refuse to admit I already have. Now I think, somehow, in my mind, if I could convince her, if she doesn’t see it, then maybe it doesn’t exist. If I just push all this fear down my stomach where I know it doesn’t belong, maybe it will go away. If I stop myself from suffocating on my own feelings, and help them swim where they’re about to drown.
Maybe if I just look at myself in the mirror and accept the pain for what it is, maybe it will all go away. It’s like refusing to do the work, but still long for the prize.
Maybe, someday hope will look fear in the eye and tell her the truth when she says; I’m no longer lying to my therapist.