Music of Forgetting

"My heart is unsettled
I also have a grudge against it
All my happiness
is a sweet and desperate
torment. "


Once upon a time, I heard this blogging thing was good for getting over. Therapy in words. Something I've always preached but I so often forget when it really matters.

Regardless, my name is irrelevant. My past will show its barbaric impact through these lines eventually. No background is necessary. I figure I'll just start day to day...

Today is day one back in the consoling tank. Day one of observing my real self again. I resented that damn couch for as long as I can remember. Different scenery, same disinterested lady across the room. Face in hand, legs crossed, counting minutes. I always associated that room and those conversations with punishment. Like I had done something so confusing and wrong that I had to seek 'professional help'. Which, is true. Mostly. Every time I've been led back into that arena, its been because of some horribly confusing choice that I've made. I wouldn't define these choices as 'wrong', because that means that there was a correct way to deal with the hand I was dealt. And trust when I say that UNIVERSALLY - jokers and 2's are bad hands. Even if you create the rules, its difficult to do anything in any game with that garbage. The only difference between me and the person who will fold is I'm good at bluffing. I can say I'm good, or that I'm happy or that I think I deserve great things and great memories.... and if you call me out, tell me that I'm not any of the above or that I dont like myself or what not, well... I'll put my poker face on. However, every bluffer will tell you that its rare to win every time with that approach. Its risky. It becomes obvious. Its dishonest and it shows through more than just your facial expressions. That lie rides on your back, forces your eyes to follow your feet and hides them from the sunlight. It becomes heavy. And the only way to keep that poker face is to completely isolate yourself so that no one can get close enough to see the real you. Bluffing... I've realized... needs to stop.

I decided to start this experience off clean. I contemplated going back to previous therapists; they already know my past issues and my motives and I felt that maybe it'd be 'less work' to go back to them then to go to someone new. What I had to embrace is that there is no such thing as 'less work' when it comes to getting back on your feet. There's no short cuts. This isn't Monopoly or Shoots and Ladders. This isn't some game, this is MY mental stability. The rule of thumb, I've realized , is to do the MOST work as possible. Dig into your past; shine light on all that is locked away in that big box of repression you keep inside. Do some good spring cleaning on your soul because down the road, you'll have to clean it up anyway. No closet shoving this time for me.

Thankfully, my therapist isn't some staunch Christian zealot or over booked court ordered chair sitter. She's definitely someone I know I , not only can confide in, but also someone I can learn a good deal from. First days are always a little awkward; like the first day of school, or a first date or a first anything... it can become overwhelming. You want to share more than just your name and what you do on the weekends. You want to rip open your chest and your mind and lay it on the table for everyone to see and so thats pretty much what I did... I sat down, took my coat off and said " Well... I guess I'll start with what I can remember..."

Today is the construction of a new beginning. One that is a foundation built of concrete, hard work and broken hearts. No more punching holes in walls. Only time to fill in the holes in my energy... in my life... I can't keep living like swizz cheese.