on therapy

...sometimes i berate myself for having spent so much money on simply talking to another human being over these past years...on "wasting" my precious and so hard earned dollars, just on another person's ear...another person who was never "really" invested in me from the start, right? no, but that is not right at all, in any way, in any form, or any how. what entity in the world, what possession, what diamond, what latest iphone or louis vuitton, what new fad ripped denim of the moment could be any more important than the value of speaking your truth to another person, a caring and WISE beyond words human being? what thing, what gem, what tangible entity, is more precious or worth more of my penny than myself and that which serves to make me more whole?

to anyone who deigns to challenge, demerit the value of human to human connection and more than that, the value of therapeutic work, i have this to say: if you are truly blessed enough to say this, if you are one of those among us who need not the help of another, well, i am happy for you. in fact, i am envious...might i say even jealous. if you are that person, that woman or man who can live simply and seek not the guidance of therapeutic connection, consider it a gift. as someone who is not this person, i say this not with snark or anger but with true admiration. but for me, for what i know to be true in this life, there is nothing more valuable; no better venue in which, no better person to pay, no possession more worth my "hard-earned" dollar, than that and whom to which i owe my stability. 

we pay for country clubs, we pay to sit in the sun, to get our necks and feet and shoulders rubbed, for these experiences bring us lasting joy, restfulness or calm. or any combination therein the sun is not a finite moment on our skin for better or for worse for that matter. the effect of its blonde yellow rays is lasting -- it stays on our exterior, browning us to beauty relighting our heart-shaped bulbs in our interior. the experience of the massage is not limited to 60 minutes -- it stays in our joints and our being for much longer than that. and so, we pay for that. we open our wallets and our minds to so much -- we cloak our nude nails in neon, transform our locks into colors never in natural occurrence from human follicles, we trim our lines, slim our waists, drape ourselves in capes and denim alike. we pay for all these these things, and yet some leave our (or more appropriately, their) souls uncloaked. but not me, not she, not thee. just as the blonde rays of the sun stay with us, so do the words, the bright smiles, the hugs, the love, the realness of a connected human entity.