“Just worry about today’s bread, and let tomorrow’s bread worry about itself.”
I’ve been in therapy now for almost the same amount of time I’ve been on Medium. No, not TAM’s beginnings. Kiki Lu. Yeah, that long. It was around January or so of 2022 that I started really digging into the psychic depths of my emotional dysfunctions.
But now, I think I might have reached the end. Or, the beginning of the end at least. It’s been a hellova journey.
The first leg was all talk. Literally. That’s what we did. I apparently need to talk. Or write. Communicating my thoughts and feelings is vital to my mental health. But after a year and a half of talk therapy, I’d reached the end of that line. Talking wasn’t enough to reach some of the more stubborn elements plaguing my psyche.
About a year ago, I switched therapists to my current EMDR specialist. She taught me how to reach into my festering wounds and feel the pain. That sounds terrible, I know, but it was exactly what I needed. The general process was to find pain, focus on feeling it in my body, locate where my child self first encountered it (first or worst), and reparent that part of myself so I could process it. Easy, right?
Twice this week, I’ve been triggered by something that previously would have set me off. Technically more, but we’ll only count the hardest ones. I wrote about both of them — 9/22/24 and 9/24/24. Armed with those experiences, I confidently walked into my therapy session today wondering (respectfully) if I still needed to even be there anymore.
It’s a reasonable question. And I was nice in asking. She said no.
Her answer shocked me. I mean, she didn’t exactly say “no,” but gave off the impression of a no. Those two issues, not that long ago, would have sent me into an emotional spiral. They likely would have started a lengthy existential crisis, or compelled a verbal attack that made something in my life worse. Instead, I just did what she had been walking me through for the past year. Feel the pain, listen to what the pain is telling me, find the child, hold her hand through it to the light.
According to my therapist, if I can handle that on my own, there’s no need to come to therapy. We can pause the sessions, and if anything comes up in the future, I can resume as needed.
Huh. People say they finish therapy, but I don’t think I ever believed them. So this is what it feels like?
Yesterday, though, I thought today’s entry was going to be very different. I had already started writing it in my mind as soon as I stepped away from the computer. And then, I realized, that went against the original idea of the diaries — and proceeded to imagine what that article entry would look like, writing about that.
Sigh. I never wrote anything down, choosing instead to observe this like a parent watching children make-believe. It was cute, even though I knew it wasn’t going anywhere.
Still, in the spirit of that lesson, it might be worth noting I originally wanted to name this series something to do with bread. Like, Today’s Bread or Bread for Tomorrow. Something like that. I wanted the foundation of the journaling to be about that line in the Bible about ‘worry only for today’s bread, and let tomorrow’s bread worry about itself.’ Or whatever. That’s how I remember it because that’s how my grandpa said it. We weren’t openly religious., so I didn't know it was a Bible thing until much later.
The idea is fantastic, though. At least it is for me right now. Planning is all well and fine, but like Sokka from Avatar: The Last Airbender, planning hasn’t gone all that well for me. So maybe all I can worry about is today. The “bread” is article writing, of course. So I can worry about tomorrow’s bread when tomorrow magically turns into today. Some days, I may not need or want bread at all. And that’s ok. Just worry about today’s bread, and let tomorrow’s bread worry about itself.
It won’t make me rich, but maybe it’ll help me learn to be functional. And that… that might be enough to hope for from here.
Unfortunately, all the good names were taken for bakeries. Figures. And in the end, I didn’t want a Christian vibe on my, well, anything. No shade, that just doesn’t even come close to describing my spirituality. I am to spirituality what The Dean from Community is to sexuality.
But I feel as though that statement about bread really sums up how I’m feeling lately. About therapy and mental health, as well as writing and “The Hustle.” Focus on today. Let tomorrow worry about itself. We’ll get there eventually. And if we don’t, well, that’s energy we didn’t waste worrying about something that won’t happen anyway. Might as well be here, in this moment, for all it’s worth.
Perhaps these entries will be a sort of therapy for me. Hopefully not in a trauma-dumping sense, but for mutual benefit. I express my thoughts to process, and readers gain something from it in return. That sounds nice, doesn’t it? Of course, I have no expectations about where it will lead. Today’s bread has been satisfied in the writing.
I know this may be a shorter one, but there’s nothing more to say for today. Tomorrow, that will change. See you next time. Hope you enjoyed the madness. 😉