The Cozy, Introverted Therapist

Deep dive with me into existentialism, growing older, and mental health insights.

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Welcome to my page! I am a introverted therapist trying to navigate mental health, chronic illness, and a host of other middle-aged right-of-passage experiences using subpar poetry. :) I hope you feel at home here.

  • Mending a Bleeding Heart

    Do not rush the process of mending a bleeding heart.

    It is not as simple as cauterizing a wound

    Or sewing up a copious gash;

    It is a painstaking journey of desensitizing yourself to heartbreak

    Again and again and again and again and again.

    Waking up each morning to accept the harsh reality of loss

    Lessening the sting one sighing breath at a time.

    Sometimes you believe you have finally stopped bleeding,

    Stepping cautiously into the illusion of healing

    Only to be inadvertently thrown back into the past

    Where your heart is ripped open again

    And the bleeding starts anew.

    There is no easy way to mend a broken heart,

    Only time, exposure, and even the hologram of hope

    That one day you will wake up and realize the bleeding slowed

    And all that is left is a scar full of memories.

    Hopefully you will gravitate toward what you learned

    In the process of tending to a broken heart,

    How it it helped you grow resilience

    How it shaped your perspective

    How you can look back at the silver lining

    And realize that there was meaning to the pain

    Not unscarred but wiser

    Not unscathed but softer

    Surprisingly grateful

    Forever changed.

  • Remember December

    Remember December, not so long ago?

    When in the darkest part of life we rediscovered hope

    In the form of newfound camaraderie.

    Two broken hearts mending together pieces

    Unintentionally, without agenda,

    Except to show up genuinely.

    Even in the frosty chill of December,

    There was warmth in the instant bond

    Of two people with uncanny similarities,

    Freely unearthing the shadows lurking in their histories

    To be seen and released for the first time,

    In the purifying relief of non-judgment and empathy.

    I never told you then what I know now,

    That for me, finding you was no coincidence

    But a reuniting of two friends long acquainted,

    Meeting again to uphold the other.

  • Finders Keepers

    We have a choice

    To find optimism

    Or to find pessimism.

    What we find is what we keep.

    We cannot choose our traumas,

    The experiences that lean us

    Toward the warmth of light

    Or toward the black hole of dark.

    We can choose to acknowledge

    That we have a tangible choice

    In how we respond to pain,

    Whether to allow it to consume

    Or to let it teach us resilience.

    The only difference

    Between pessimism and optimism

    Is a choice.

    If you find an opportunity

    To lean into hope,

    Take it.

    Keep it.

    Finders, keepers.

  • In the Fall of Life

    In the fall of life

    We are no longer innocent like spring

    Or irrepressible like summer,

    We are steadily changing

    Without a way back into full vitality

    Only a slow, resistant acknowledgment

    Of inevitable aging.

    We could try and intervene with time

    Many have before us without avail,

    But it is a futile attempt at racing the clock

    When we know that the road to peace

    Lies in acceptance of what is.

    Might as well revel in the beauty of fall

    With its bright, vibrant colors

    And its temperate weather

    Like a festive celebration of life

    Before the winter comes.