Mother said therapy was best
For her grandson, she couldn’t rest
She claimed his dad caused him pain
And therapy would heal his emotional strain
But I couldn’t help but feel the sting
Of her words that were hauntingly familiar, echoing
For she had said the same of me
That therapy was what I needed to be free
I fought his father, tooth and nail
Forcing him to comply, to no avail
For my mother’s word was law, you see
It was her way or the highway, for my son and me
But as the therapy sessions began
I couldn’t help but question my mother’s plan
Was it really for my son’s benefit
Or was it just another chance for her control to emit?
I realized then, it was time to break free
From the cycle of manipulation, from my mother’s decree
Therapy should be a choice, not a demand
And I vowed to give my son the freedom to understand
So now I stand with my son, hand in hand
As we navigate through life, on our own, unplanned
No longer bound by my mother’s way
We embrace therapy as a tool, not a forced display
My son's father joined the ARMY when my son was 4. My mother told me he needed therapy, that he was affected. Since I spent my entire life, from his age as well in therapy, I just went with it. Because that's what we did, we blamed everyone else for our problems, and the children in my family were always, "Out of control," when they were simply just being children. I fought with my son's father on this over and over. He always claimed that our son didn't need therapy, and I disagreed. Looking back, I see that he likely didn't need it at that time. I ended this poem with how I wished I had behaved. With what I wished had happened in this scenario. Ending the poems with positivity, helps me to heal and process. I wish I hadn't drug him through all that. I wish I had known better. I wish I had known he was just a child, but how could I have known, since that's exactly what happened to me?
Kommentare