The Den
A space to showcase client talent through art and literature, featuring their journey with therapy
I Smile with Nature
Sad clouds unburden their moisture to the land below
As trees droop with the weight of collective sorrow
The drops are heavy and uncharacteristically slow
Watering the Earth for a better tomorrow.
No bird songs this morning
Only a Koel's lone call
Crows hunched on branches mourning
Watching the dreary rain drops fall
The air is leaden with a grey pall
Waiting, watching, wondering
As another blow may fall
Humanity holds its breath, shuddering.
But, this morning, through the rain
With my teacup gently steaming,
I see a little flower valiantly blooming
A kite above, gloriously gliding
My cats joyously purring
The trees stubbornly growing
And a gentle wind blowing.
And gratitude overflows
I smile, I am joyful
A watery sun hidden, glows
I am thankful.
I realise that even when I'm lonely
The situation will improve
I must step out bravely
To face life anew.
Finding My Therapist Self
As an ‘almost’ therapist, I find myself constantly juggling between two aspects of my personality- one as a therapist and the other one as a human being. I have been seeing clients for the past 7 months and the more clients I see, the more I feel conflicted about my personality. Therapy is supposed to be a safe space and I often find myself saying things to my clients that I have to go back and reflect upon. I remember speaking about forgiveness, maladaptive traits, self acceptance and moving forward from the past.
Recently, I have realized that I have been trying to alter parts of myself to fit the criteria of a therapist outside the therapy space. For instance, I have been trying really hard to understand where my friends come from, why someone yelled at me, why someone hurt me and I constantly find myself justifying their actions and this has become quite instinctive. I don’t even give myself time to process the harm someone has inflicted upon me and try my best to blame this on their childhood trauma or conditioned flaws. It is only now that I have come to realize that I am allowed to sit with this pain, process the event in my own way, vent and blame someone if I have to and when I have done justice to my own emotions, I can try taking into account their perspective.
I have been trying to come in terms with the fact that being a therapist is a part of my life and not my whole life. My therapist, pointed out that she has been observing me defend actions of a lot of people and that I often take back negative things that I say about someone by justifying their pain and how unhealthy that is for me. I forget that therapy is a safe space for me as well and that as a human being, I am allowed to process my trauma and pain instead of brushing it off. I deserve to look out for myself, the way I suggest my clients to look out for themselves.
I am certain that this is true for a lot of individuals who belong to the field and who are trying to make the world a better place by spreading kindness and rationalising human behavior and I am in awe of this effort to actively listen to people and help them grow but I would request you to remember that being a therapist is not a full time job, you are a person with your own flaws and conditioned responses before anything else.
Being a therapist requires a massive amount of energy and to carry that outside the therapy space can be extremely strenuous. You are allowed to make mistakes and you are allowed to be an individual before a therapist. There is no guilt and shame in waking up everyday with your fair share of flaws and mistakes. Bifurcating who you are as a person and who you are as a therapist can be energy consuming and might make you question your value set and there is always going to be some amount of overlap but it is okay to own up to both sides of the coin and work on yourself while treating yourself with love and kindness.
Home Quarantine
Autumn dusk seeps in through
the window; September sky-fire
glowing on the walls. Blue grey
cloud fog wisps of mist and haze
in my mind, in the sky, in my head,
in the half broken balcony.
There are sights and sounds here,
more sounds now and lights -
blinking burning flickering lights,
lights changing colours three times.
The shadows do not change colours,
only grow darker and disappear.
It is now past midnight.
It is a late ungodly ghoulish hour.
Pen etches on yellow paper
words in blue for who I used to be;
Like longing for the dead or
howling for the forgotten whose
charcoal remains are still on the walls
of this place that I can never leave.
Who we are is not who we used to be;
It is but what we do in the dark.
Stolen time trickles into the lilypond
of amnesia. I immerse myself into
that lightless water, let it hold me
till the dawn inevitably breaks and
I cease to be who I am again.
Good Enough
You hold my hand:
I am not like the others. You can trust me.
You look me in the eyes:
You haven’t been with a man yet. I promise, I will never let you cry.
I can feel your breath on my face, just inches apart:
You’re safe with me. I’d never hurt you. I’d never break you.
Vulnerable and authentic With the utmost trust
I slowly shed my layers in front of you.
Into the dark corners of my emotional vulnerabilities
and the parts of myself I keep hidden under layers,
I invite you into my sacred space.
***
These memories come crashing at 2 AM when I cannot fall asleep
strangling me and suffocating me.
My mind lingers back to the moments
when he would joke and poke my belly fat –
lose this and then maybe I will date you.
I would chuckle then but now this statement stifles me.
***
I sit up in my bed
wishing the fat would melt
and hug myself really right
I fight to loosen the memories’ strong hold on me.
I fight to look down and not hate my own body.
The memories fight back harder, twist me and taunt me - he’s not thinking about you, he has moved on from you, and you were the issue. You fool -you are nothing to him. You were nothing to him.
Your body was never good enough.
You cared for him and let him in.
You tried be there for him when he couldn’t be there for himself.
When he struggled through dark moments, fighting his inner battles - grappling with his past, you held his hand and wiped his tears.
Patiently, not expecting anything in return, for months, in a grey zone, you just sat there.
***
But baby girl, he never felt like reciprocating because you did not fit into his definition of beautiful. Remember those times he used your body to fulfill his pleasure, and left you there, often waiting.
Your body was not good enough.
In second, he left you for that skinny girl in Miami. Look at her, look at you.
Baby girl, your body was not good enough. He did not even are for a respectful goodbye.
He did not even value your love and womanhood.
The scars left tattooed in a hidden place of my heart kajal streaks running down my cheeks.
Every night, ‘don’t cry’ I say in a shaking voice.
I am beautiful, caring, & strong. I did nothing wrong.
But then I look down at my thighs and I can’t help but think of the constant reminder…
This is why he left me
this is what I did wrong.
this is what was not good enough.
So, every day, I dress in black, long sleeves only to hide my fat.
I stare at myself in the mirror, loathing every inch, attempting to hide every inch.
No one else
No one else will come close enough No one else will leave me
I, for once, just want my body to be good enough.