Therapy

I spoke to my therapist today for another hour. We talked about how far I have come in the last 3 months. During that time my journal has stood so deathly quiet but this week it has been taken up again.
How different it is from when we first began to speak, as I sat there, falling to pieces.

We didn’t talk about you much today. You have become one of my “not yet” items. I still love you. There are days when it is so much harder, but now I know that I can love you without feeling like the world is ending if you don’t love me back. I forgive everything for I am not without fault, and hope that you will forgive me too one day.

My poems speak of pain and heartbreak at times. These things are still true. I still have bad days. I still have moments when the sadness of those final days breaks me like a wooden doll under the wheels of a pickup truck. My hope is to accept them and acknowledge that the past isn’t what matters: All that matters is now. When I feel the pain I let it flow through me onto the page and allow it to pass.

The pain is no longer what defines me, it just is.

You are still in my thoughts as I go to sleep, and when I wake I still look for you. No-one said I was over you. I am not, nor do I think I will be for some time. Maybe I will never be. What matters is now. Not what may be.

The road ahead is taken One Step At A Time; like climbing a mountain, or walking a long and winding path through the hills.

What is important
Is not the end
But each step
As it is taken.

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