Really, therapy?

I know I can improve my mental and physical health with learning how to stress less,

I know it isn’t easy to ask for help which is why since 2012 it’s been alcohol, drugs and writing that has constantly got me through things,

Not the best recipe I know,

Besides the writing of course,

Which too can be debatable.

I don’t hold back in my writings and I speak on anything I feel, which leads to friends, family and strangers slamming gavels whenever they find it convenient,

To double down. I truly do not give a fuck.

I’ve been on a two month never ending quest,

Finding a therapist isn’t easy as I thought it would be,

I finally accepted the fact that I’m ready for one and thought it would be a piece of cake,

Being wrong often has been a thing for me as of late,

An unexpected visit to the ER & the amount of commas I saw on the bill convinced me to get insurance again,

Therapy isn’t cheap and apparently most therapist don’t take my insurance,

How great.

I’ve spoken to roughly 10 different people this month and I’m starting to become discouraged,

I didn’t know it would be this difficult,

A person of color who can listen to me and engage in conversation is all I seek,

Someone who won’t hold what I say against me or reveal private matters when they’re upset with me,

I didn’t know it would be this difficult,

This is a quest I won’t give up on regardless of the negative stigmas associated with a black man seeking therapy,

Until then I shall continue to roll blunts to put me at ease,

Meditate and stay away from the fuck shit.

Peace.

– Kenny Rhymes