you're a queen, sister

since wednesday, i've been going to therapy.
i know it's only saturday but seriously, i've gone everyday. for two hours.

just talking.
me and my therapist.

my zaftig, Nubian Princess-esque therapist.



our first meeting, i was sitting in the chair tired, dazed and confused.
i always thought it would be easy for me, to just sit there and talk about myself
since that is what i've always wanted to do but instead, i sat there. saying nothing.

so we started with writing.


"write what you feel"


she gave me a pen. so i wrote. and wrote. and kept writing.
i ran out of paper.


she stopped me, and read what i wrote.
as she was reading her eyebrow raised considerably and for whatever reason, i felt like i had
done something wrong. i must have turned red and radiated heat in her direction, because she lifted a
hand to silence me before i had said anything.


"it's good."

i didn't say anything. still silent.
maybe i shouldn't? maybe i could just keep coming here, and listen to her soothing voice and have her
heal me without having to help her.
sit and be healed.

things don't work that way, as it turns out.



"now you need to say it" she said.

"i can't"

"you can't talk? you just did!"



so i muttered, stammered, contradicted, lied, apologized for lying, double talked, looped, weeped, yelled, paced, cussed, smoked and finally...
finally...
after two hours, she said
"there is something i want you to know, young lady"

i stood silent, again feeling like i had done something wrong.

"you're a queen, sister"
and then
"maybe you're too young to be a queen. how does princess sound to you?"

i asked, laughing
"can i be a queen like you when i grow up?"

and she said
"you can be whatever you want to be, whenever you want to be. didn't anyone ever tell you that?"

i shook my head no. they hadn't. no one had.


"well...now you know."