“My therapist says make friends with your monsters” is a poem by José Olivarez, a son of Mexican immigrants, and the author of poetry collections “Citizen Illegal” and “Promises of Gold”. The poem beautifully captures the therapeutic journey of confronting deeply ingrained “monsters,” that symbolize internalized shame and negative self-perceptions nurtured over time.

The therapeutic process described in the poem involves humanizing these fears, transforming the monsters from terrifying entities into manageable aspects of the speaker’s identity. The goal is to not eliminate these fears but to come to terms with them and integrate them into a more compassionate understanding of oneself.

In essence, Olivarez’s poem offers a powerful reflection on the nature of therapy and the path to healing, showing that the road to self-acceptance involves acknowledging and embracing all parts of oneself, even those that are difficult and painful.

Read the poem here:

 

we are gathered in truce

because my therapist said

it was time to stop running, 

 

& i pay my therapist too much

to be wrong, so i am here.

my monsters look almost human

 

in the sterile office light.

my monsters say they want

to be friends. i remember

 

when we first met, me & my

monsters. i remember the moment

i planted each one. each time

 

i tried to shed a piece of myself,

it grew into a monster. take this one

with the collar of belly fat

 

the monster called Chubby, Husky, 

Gordito. i climbed out of that skin

as fast as i could, only to see some spirit

 

give it legs. i ran & it never stopped

chasing me. each new humiliation

coming to life & following after me.

 

after me, a long procession of sad

monsters. each monster hungry

to drag me back, to return me

 

to the dirt i came from. ashes

to ashes, fat boy to fat.

my monsters crowd around me,

 

my therapist says i can’t

make the monsters disappear

no matter how much i pay her.

 

all she can do is bring them

into the room, so i can get

to know them, so i can learn

 

their names, so i can see

clearly their toothless mouths,

their empty hands, their pleading eyes

 

Image Credits: Nijwam Swargiary on Unsplash