Weird shit shrinks cry over and great poetry

<3group hug! When i saw the sensitive side of my therepist, It melted me. He read me this poem first in Swedish, than in English. His deep, variably accented voice is perfect for narration, I’m not bragging or anything but I’d say he was the David Attenborough of the non domesticated shrink world. Yeah, thats right, Attenborough. It’s awfully touching to meet someone in the mental health profession that is first off so emo, and second so open in front of their patient. Shrinks, its okay to cry in front of your patients, don’t worry, we’re not the same species as you, we wont judge you for it 😉

so here it is in Swedish, good luck with that!

nah kidding, english is below it, but seriously, learn Swedish. (I hate it when people say that as if your going to go home and learn Swedish just so you can read their stupid post or poem huhhh, UGH) Well its okay, I think its just more power and emotion in the words and their correlations and meanings in Swedish. Whatever , read it.

Ja visst gör det ont Ja visst gör det ont när knoppar brister. Varför skulle annars våren tveka? Varför skulle all vår heta längtan bindas i det frusna bitterbleka? Höljet var ju knoppen hela vintern. Vad är det för nytt, som tär och spränger? Ja visst gör det ont när knoppar brister, ont för det som växer och det som stänger. Ja nog är det svårt när droppar faller. Skälvande av ängslan tungt de hänger, klamrar sig vid kvisten, sväller, glider – tyngden drar dem neråt, hur de klänger. Svårt att vara oviss, rädd och delad, svårt att känna djupet dra och kalla, ändå sitta kvar och bara darra – svårt att vilja stanna och vilja falla. Då, när det är värst och inget hjälper, Brister som i jubel trädets knoppar. Då, när ingen rädsla längre håller, faller i ett glitter kvistens droppar glömmer att de skrämdes av det nya glömmer att de ängslades för färden – känner en sekund sin största trygghet, vilar i den tillit som skapar världen.

Of course it hurts when buds burst.
Otherwise why would spring hesitate?
Why would all our fervent longing
be bound in the frozen bitter haze?
The bud was the casing all winter.
What is this new thing, which consumes and bursts?
Of course it hurts when buds burst,
pain for that which grows
and for that which envelops.

Of course it is hard when drops fall.
Trembling with fear they hang heavy,
clammer on the branch, swell and slide –
the weight pulls them down, how they cling.
Hard to be uncertain, afraid and divided,
hard to feel the deep pulling and calling,
yet sit there and just quiver –
hard to want to stay
and to want to fall.

Then, at the point of agony and when all is beyond
help,
the tree’s buds burst as if in jubilation,
then, when fear no longer exists,
the branch’s drops tumble in a shimmer,
forgetting that they were afraid of the new,
forgetting that they were fearful of the journey –
feeling for a second their greatest security,
resting in the trust
that creates the world.

(PS- Im in a state at the moment I call “halfsies”, which is basically im in between personality states. Its a feeling like no other, or well, like dissociating, ya know theres THAT analogy.  My body is doing one thing,,, my mind is doing another and its like Im in a fuzzy dream world. It’s shit honestly. I don’t know what Sally Field was on about, this blows)