Help

I remembered her office as I sat down on the upholstered tan couch. Ana’s blue square wall wrap with white flowers is something I would put in my own house. But I’m not in my own house, I’m sitting in her office with a whirl of emotions.

I don’t even know how I got here. Maybe it was one too many breakdowns – too many nights curled up next to Kevin gripping his hand and knowing he couldn’t carry all of my burdens on his shoulders. Maybe it was smashing into cancer and struggling to pick up the pieces – like trying to hold twenty rainbow plastic balls in your arms that pinch and slip onto the floor.

She greeted me though Ana knew I avoided coming last week and changed our sessions to every other week. As we talk, I convince myself it’s okay to need help. It’s okay to need one more person to lean on, but I’m tired. I’m tired of feeling like I always need help, that I’m not independent.

Her voice is soft laced with a gentle accent – just like any counselor should be – and I’m jealous of the brown locks that curve around her face. We dip and dive back – back to when I was never sick – back to when my 16 year old self listened to Linkin Park and sported dyed hair.

It gets uncomfortable – but I need to get to a healthier self.

For my husband, my child, my family

Myself

It’s okay to need help. It’s okay to need help.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: