The ABCs of Therapy
“A” is for absolute: My black and white thinking, sinking in the abyss. This is what it’s like— Psychology calls it pathology, reviewing the anthology of my years, my path, the aftermath. Scribbling a paragraph— How do I revise it? “Disguise it,” they say. Keep going, not slowing, as you round the bend. Writing “the end” is not an option.
I started writing this poem during “creative writing group” while I was a resident at a healing farm in the Blue Ridge Mountains of North Carolina. Another resident gave the prompt “A is for…” and then we had a few minutes to respond to the prompt with prose or verse. I jotted some notes that I shared with the group, then later added to the poem and fleshed it out several years later while I was in lockdown during Covid, cooped up in a small apartment in Washington, DC, trying to keep myself calm and remember what I’d once learned in group therapy at the healing farm.
The final version of the poem was featured in an art gallery in LA, the Lineage Performing Arts Center, in 2021. I also performed the piece live at Busboys and Poets in DC.
“B” is for breath: the opposite of death. Hold on tight to the seconds that are fleeting, beating is my heart in my chest, thumping, bumping against my ribs, a fib glistening in my eyes. “I’m alright,” I respond, wading into the pond of social norms, forming the words but not really feeling them, stealing time with every… inhale… and exhale…
“C” is for care: ascending the stairs on foot at a time, climbing up, and… It’s alright. It’s okay. You can just stand there today. If all you can do is look down and stare at the step you are on, that’s just fine. You’re on your way to changing your mind. If you repeat these platitudes enough, they will become your attitude’s stuff, and you’ll… You’ll get there eventually. One… two… three… these are the ABCs of therapy.