4.3
November 21, 2020

An Ode to our Attempts at Fixing our Imperfect Selves.

 

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To the one always being asked to speak louder,

To the one who wishes they were slimmer,

To the one who runs through life without their feet on the ground,

To the one who spends years in therapy,

To the one who has been called pathetic,

To the one who feels worthless,

To the one who reads every book on polyvagal theory and trauma,

To the one who writes endlessly attempting to solve the unsolved,

To the one who feels like an unhappy chameleon,

To the one who knew more about who they were before therapy,

This poem is for you.

You’re okay.

Right here, right now—you’re okay.

For the days to come, put down your books and feel your feet in the grass.

Sip your coffee slowly and look around.

Notice the beauty in the fractals of nature.

Notice the sounds of others engaging in their lives.

Notice that the core of who you are has never changed.

Therapy can provide a space for us to process things.

It can bring awareness and new insight.

It can help us live more fully.

It will never change the core of who we are, though—and it never should.

We are all imperfect, and it’s these differences that lead us on various pathways that, in the end, lead back to where we all started.

You may spend your life attempting to fix yourself, but in doing so, you’ll miss the beauty of today and tomorrow.

Learn, grow, and always take in new knowledge.

There’s no need, though, for anything but love and kindness toward yourself—as we all walk through life in our own imperfect ways.

~

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