Therapy : two years in (for the truly broken among us)

I'm learning...

i mean, i still fight back

but I stay.

I cry, I beg you to stop talking

I jiggle my arms and legs and arch my back

I hold my hands to my head and rock

and argue

of course

but I stay.

I stay with you.

I think you're telling me that I'm bad

to feel ashamed

and I do.

I hear the yelling louder an louder inside me.

just no, no. no!

my yelling.

but i hear something else too,

which is you.

I hear you over everything,

I hear you caring and seeing me,

even though i'm overwhelmed by all the past terror fusing into this moment,

even though you're about to kick me out for no one to hold

(not that i can tolerate being held anyway... i wish...)

so i stay.

I stay and feel what's to much to feel.

I don't exactly slam your door when I burst out of my seat.

because it's time. it's time.

not because i'm angry,

even though I am,

but because anger at you for kicking me out is the only way to leave

the only way to leave       so.

much.

pain.

in your hands.

but that's learning, right?

I mean,

you remember

incredibly.

how much worse i used to be?