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When a Therapist Asked If I Was 'Truly Committed' to Treatment


My therapist once asked me if I was truly committed to treatment. She said things wouldn’t get better unless I was completely invested.

I tried to tell her that I am, but that sometimes there’s a part of my mind that’s like another person, and he doesn’t necessarily know if he’s completely on board.

She shot back with, “There are not different parts of you; there’s just you. And you need to decide if you really want this.”

Now let me begin by saying that I love my therapist. She’s guided me through hell and back, and not once has she led me down the wrong path.

But what she doesn’t understand is sometimes it’s not as simple as that.

Sometimes I’m drowning so deep in the ocean of medications that all I want is to feel like me again.

I wanna pull him out of the water, breathe life into his lungs and tell him that he can’t give in!

Sometimes I feel so lost in this cold place, this purgatory between heaven and hell, that even Satan’s fingertips seem inviting,

Because sometimes his flame is the only light I can see.

You see, there’s a separate person in the minds of all of us.

He’s the one telling boys that they’re not men unless they’re doing manly things,

He whispers sweet nothings into your ear as you stare into the mirror, things about how big your nose is, how flat your chest is, how dorky your glasses are and how no one really likes you,

They just want you around for what you can do for them.

We all have that little voice in the back of our minds that feeds our insecurities, tells us we’re weak and speaks contrary to everything we believe.

The only problem is mine doesn’t whisper.

Mine screams at the top of his lungs, trying to cause an avalanche of negativity to come down and crush me.

And the worst part is mine doesn’t just poke fun at my physical or mental features,

No, he’s too cunning for that.

Mine will remind me that when all the chips were down, he was the only one there.

Mine will point out that when I was too far out to sea, drowning in that ocean of medicine,

The fog of unawareness enshrouding me, it was he that brought the life boat.

It may not have brought me to safety,  and though I knew it wasn’t right to get off the medications, it was him that helped me feel again.

It was him that helped me be me again.

No, he didn’t take me to dry land,

But he…he was the only company I had.

So when I tell the doctor that there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to give in, that he doesn’t want to go silently into that goodnight, I’m not saying that I am not committed.

What I’m saying is that there’s a part of me that I hate, that I wish nothing more than for it to go away, and yet he’s been with me since the beginning.

When things were at their worst, even though he’s the one who probably caused it, he was still there, as dependable as ever,

Whispering sweet, negativity into my ear.

He’s my worst enemy but he’s also my best friend,

And though, more often than not, I want to

And though, more often than not, I want to get rid of him, sometimes… it’s not as simple as that.