I'm about to start another series of CBT with a therapist. It all makes perfect sense when you're there planning it but why is it so difficult to actually change.
I wanted to try and describe how I felt about it to the therapist but when I started writing it down it came out in this short prose. I'd be interested if others struggle in the same way.
We tend to tackle problems by thinking when really the only key that works is being.
The Tiny Step
Exert the brain. Focus the thoughts. Thoughts and images start to flow and link up. A path starts to form through the chaos. As each piece finds its place it jostles to get the perfect line. As a new piece is fitted the path smoothes and refines like a stream settling into it's new course.
And so the plan is formed, refined and simple. Balanced and fresh with youthful joy and innocence.
Now delivered to my mind it is surveyed with kindly knowing realism. I look at the youthful optimism not wanting to crush it, remembering times when it would have carried me forward.
Agreement and confidence are proffered in the meeting, backed up by the simplicity of a compelling idea. But this has more to do with covering the shame I feel and hoping not to burst your optimism or spurn your care.
So how can the tiny step tower over me? Much is the crushing coalsack of fatigue already grasping at the heal of the brave new step. The comforting shadows of your secret place calling you away from the spotlights and praise of success. Perhaps the arrogant pride and safety of self-reliance. The betrayal of who you are, that companion left behind by the flames of depression and time.
But there, a glimmer of light beckoning through the shadows. Should not a heart be allowed a nod of friendship or a hand of encouragement. Is there not beam of sunlight lighting the forest glade. Or the trickle of a stream finding its way. My way. My way forward.