During an early session of our work together, my therapist handed me slip of paper printed with Autobiography in 5 Chapters, a poem by Portia Nelson.
“How could I do this to myself?” I asked her, ashamed by my recent repeat of a same-old mistake. “I said this would never happen again!”
“Just read the poem,” she said calmly.
I looked down, tracing the words line-by-line. Here’s the poem’s gist:
Walking down a street, a woman encounters a hole in the ground and falls inside. It’s hopeless. She’s lost. But it’s not her fault, she reminds herself. She begins the long climb out. Over and over, the woman falls into the hole, sometimes pretending there is no hole, other times seeing the hole and still blaming others for her fall. One day, she once more falls down the hole, but this time, she accepts responsibility. It was her fault. The next time, she walks around the hole. Then, she starts taking a different street.
Two days ago, I found myself at the bottom of the same-old hole. It was stupefying. How could I do this to myself? I said this would never happen again! I sought scapegoats, found none, and then remembered my therapist and the poem. I laughed. Gathering myself, I glanced around and spotted the handholds, carved deeply into the wall from my previous descents, and began my ascent, spending less time pity-partying than before.
Maybe next time I’ll walk around the hole. Or, perhaps I won’t, and I’ll tumble inside, needing another lesson, needing another chance at responsibility.
To livin’ a life we love,
Ryan Fightmaster, MD
