Breaking free

I go to Group therapy.   Not unusual to do therapy if you’re American perhaps,  but in Britain ,  it’s considered quirky,  weird,  odd or downright indulgent.

I have been going for a year now.   I have been wondering whether to leave.

Last time before the summer break ,  our facilitator said that people almost always enter therapy due to some kind of loss in their life ,   then she suggested,   perhaps for my benefit that it can be due to a loss of self.

At that moment I realised that this was indeed my reason for signing up .   Albeit , I didn’t have a sense of that at the time ,  but through this last year , I have discovered that I was indeed lost.    Lost to myself ,   untethered in a whirlwind of avenues and streets of which I had not agreed the destination .   In fact ,  as I look to where I was a year ago today,  I realise that this year has been one long passage of discovery ;  enlightenment and freedom from the chains of my own making.   I feel like the phoenix who has been rising from the ashes,   dramatic image maybe , but nevertheless,   resplendent in colours and passion ,  I have shed the irritating , itchy skins of conformity & self consciousness ,  or I am in the process of still shedding them…   But I know that a glossy new skin is visible and it’s actually me .  .

animal close up colors dangerous
Photo by Juhasz Imre on Pexels.com