My Therapist says FEEL - Sept. 4, 2026

I really don’t want to sit down and search for my feelings. . . that feels fruitless.  All the softer, gentler ones are out playing hopscotch on the sidewalk and will turn if I call any of their names.  Hey Calm, how’s it going today . . . or . . . Serenity, would you come inside. I want to introduce you to someone. Those aren’t the ones my therapist wants to meet.

He wants to meet the weighty formidable ones, sharp-toothed, fire-breathing and wild.  Beasts that remain hidden in my towering mountains or deep in my secret caves, emerging at unpredictable times, knocking down the door of my life after my therapist has gone home, perhaps having dinner with his phone turned off, in the shower or fallen asleep.

Though that wouldn’t really matter, since dialing my therapist would be kind of hard because those animals are already chasing me, like living nightmares on a sleepless night