If I am not for myself, who will be for me?

But if I am only for myself, who am

If not now, when?

When my son was old enough

to ask about what I did at work,

I explained my job as a therapist

is to make people happy.

“Do you tickle people all day?”

A mirror for the troubled,

a hope for better choices.

A therapist’s unconditional acceptance

helps others become improved versions

of themselves so they might have a chance

to grab the brass

But, after years of being immersed

in the only situation in life,

where two people sit down together

and try to talk about the truth,

I find I’m worn out from the hard work

of choreographing encounters of aliveness.

Who will remind me to love myself?

I search for the slam-dunk of renewal.