Therapy Session

therapy office with couch and table

Hello, sweet child. Have a seat.

Tell me about your fears. Your anxiety.

Tell me about your sadness. And your shame. Your addictions and your demons.

Tell me, sweet child, why you feel so unworthy and broken and unloveable. Empty the noise in your head, let it pour out into my lap.

There.

Now I can hold it for you. I can cradle all of your pain and suffering, all of the pieces of your broken heart. I’ll hold it like I would a baby bird with a broken wing: with love and tenderness and reverence. With respect for its beautiful fragility.

Here, hold it with me. Take some. Some of the dirt and muck, the darkness you continue to store deep down in your belly, in the small hidden crevices of your being so that no one can find it. So that no one sees you.

How long has all of this been buried? Look how it’s starved for air. For room to breathe.

Watch it. See how it begins to open, to uncurl. Watch as it drips through my fingers, falling, flowing, seeking to return to the Source from which it came. It’s like water, finding the path of least resistance, moving gracefully in alignment with all that is.

Because that’s the thing, sweet child. Even this pain – these shadows and tears, the burning flames and smoldering hot coals – even this is Divine.

The shameful secrets that you so desperately try to hide from the world…they’re all Love.

Your mind calls it “bad” and stows it away, feverishly attempting to conceal it all, to keep your pain shrouded in the darkness of shame.

Let your heart redeem it. Let it bring forth your pain like a mighty river, fierce and strong, filled with the conviction to purify your entire being.

Now swim in it, sweet child. Bathe in the waters of your broken heart. Cleanse yourself with the exquisite hurting of being alive.