21 | Samaj #2
Stepping into my apartment I headed straight for the shower, letting the hot water run longer than usual. I stood there for a while, eyes closed, letting my thoughts drift in and out until the tension in my chest loosened just a little.
Afterward, I threw on a pair of basketball shorts and a T-shirt. I sank into one of the patio chairs pulling my laptop onto my lap and typed: Black male therapist near me.
I took my time scanning through profiles, reading bios and credentials. After narrowing them down I selected one I felt would work best.
I still had my reservations and some hesitancy when it came to therapy, but I didn’t want to continue living my life like this and if there was a chance Therapy could help even in the slightest, I was willing to give it a try.
After scheduling my session, I felt proud of myself. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal to some but for me it was. I was making a decision to stop surviving and instead I was choosing to heal. For me. And maybe… one day… for the woman who still had my heart.
Walking into that office the following week felt like stepping into something I wasn’t prepared for, but desperately needed. I didn’t know what I expected, a stiff chair, harsh lighting, maybe someone who’d stare at me too long and make everything awkward.
But the space Dr. Thomas had? It was warm. Comfortable. Like somebody’s living room with soft lamps and a couple of Scriptures framed on the wall. And when he stood up Black man, maybe late thirties, beard shaped up, calm eyes, you have no idea the relief that washed through me.
And then he shook my hand, “Welcome, Samaj. I’m glad you’re here. And just so you know I’m a believer in Jesus Christ so we can incorporate faith into our sessions if that aligns with what you need. I won’t force it on you though, it’s completely up to you.”
When I was doing my research online, I didn’t make finding a ‘Christian therapist’ a part of my search, but I don’t think it was by chance that he was the one I chose.
“That’s fine with me.” I replied.
We sat down and he jumped right in.
“So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “tell me what brought you here today.”
I shrugged. “A friend recommended I try it out.” I muttered.
“Sounds like a pretty good friend.” He wrote something down before continuing. “Tell me what’s been going on with you.”
“Life’s been …life.” I replied leaving it at that.
He leaned back in his chair, studying me for a moment before setting down his pen. “Samaj,” he said calmly, “I’m going to be honest with you. I don’t think you scheduled this session just to hang out with me.”
I shook my head. “You seem cool and all but nah I didn’t come here for that.”
He chuckled lightly. “I didn’t think so. But if you don’t let me in, how will I be able to help you?”
I shifted in my chair, rubbing my hands together like they suddenly felt dry. “It’s not that I’m trying to be difficult,” I said. “I just…don’t really do the whole talking-about-my feelings thing.”
“That’s pretty common especially amongst us black men.”
“Yeah well,” I said shrugging again, “I’ve managed this long without therapy. I don’t really see how talking about my problems with a complete stranger will change anything. No offense.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “None taken. But how’s that been working out for you?”
His question was valid and I couldn’t do anything but appreciate him being straightforward with me.
I exhaled slowly, closing my eyes for a second trying to gather my thoughts before looking back at him.
“I don’t know man. It’s a lot. I don’t even know where to start.”
“We don’t have to unpack everything today. I just want you to be as open and honest as you can. Let me ask you something,” He paused, leaning forward slightly. “What was the moment when you first realized that something in your life wasn’t sitting right?”
My fingers drummed against the arms of the chair as a few different memories flashed through my mind.
“My brother Shiloh passed away a few months ago.”
Dr. Thomas didn’t interrupt. He listened as he jotted down a few notes.
“Things haven’t really been the same since then.”
“First of all, I’m sorry for your loss. My condolences to you and your family. I think this is a good place for us to start. Tell me how you handled the loss and how things have been up until now.”
I guess that’s all it took because once the words started…I couldn’t stop.
“I don’t think I truly grieved my brother.
I tried to put all my focus on finishing up my degree.
Then things became a domino effect. My mom tried to commit suicide and my parents decided to separate.
I found out my dad may not be my biological father and that led to my breakup with my girlfriend.
I feel like I lost everything and most days I feel like I’m just going with the motions.
Like I’m just existing but not really living. ”
I told him about my brother and how losing him shattered something I still haven’t put back together.
My anger and hardened heart. How I’m coming to the reality that I may be dealing with depression, and I never considered it before because I wasn’t coping exactly the way I thought a person who was depressed would.
About my move to Union Heights, I was certain I was supposed to make, but wasn’t certain of how to settle down and make it home just yet.
Lastly, about Simone. How being around her woke up parts of me I didn’t even know were there and how losing her made every old wound feel fresh again.
Every time I paused, Dr. Thomas nodded gently, while jotting down things in his notepad.
At one point he said, “Thank you for sharing. I know that wasn’t easy. What you’ve experienced in the past few months reminds me of a story in the bible about Job. Are you familiar with it?”
I shook my head.
“It’s a story of a righteous and blameless man who loved and feared the Lord, but lost everything. From his family, his wealth and even his health. Throughout this story we find that despite him losing everything he keeps his faith.”
“Why did God allow him to lose everything if he was righteous and did nothing to deserve it?”
“I love that you asked that question. I think most people who read or hear this story will want answers to that, but the fact of the matter is, sometimes God will allow things to happen that don’t seem fair, but aren’t punishment for doing something wrong.
This story teaches us how to find hope during challenging seasons and to trust God through our suffering even if it doesn’t come with clear reasons or quick answers from God. ”
“That’s wild.” I added.
He leaned forward, elbows on his desk.
“You didn’t let me finish. The story is traumatic, don't get me wrong, however, in the end God restores everything Job lost and defends his character.”
“Word?”
He nodded. “Yeah. I want you to read the story sometime before our next session.”
We continued our conversation and hit on topics like generational patterns and how trauma doesn’t just disappear because we grow up. The things I avoid, the way I shut down when I’m hurt, the pressure I put on myself to be ‘strong’ was all rooted in old wounds I never addressed.
He wasn’t gentle in a soft way, he was gentle in a truthful way. Direct but respectful. Calling out things I didn’t even realize were patterns that needed to be broken.
About halfway through I caught myself blinking fast, swallowing hard, trying to hold it together.
He noticed. “You don’t have to be strong here,” he said. “God created us with feelings and emotions.” That gave me a sense of relief like I was safe to really show my weaknesses.
For the rest of the session, I told him a few more things I’ve never said out loud.
Things I didn’t even know I was ready to face.
And somehow, it didn’t feel shameful, it felt freeing.
Like taking a breath for the first time in years.
At the end of the session Dr. Thomas handed me a small notebook.
“In addition to reading the story of Job, I want you to answer three questions before our next session,” he said.
I looked down at the paper he tucked inside:
What have you been carrying that isn’t yours to carry anymore?
What parts of your childhood still feel unfinished or unhealed?
Where do you feel God nudging you to surrender control?
He added, “Don’t write what you think you should feel. Write what you actually feel. Honesty is your healing.”
I nodded even though my throat was tight. Walking out of that building, I didn’t feel fixed. I didn’t feel whole.
But I felt… lighter. Like maybe, for the first time, I wasn’t fighting this battle by myself.
That next day during my lunch break I took a scenic walk to a nearby lake and decided to start working on my homework.
Union Heights didn’t have beaches like we did back in Florida.
No waves crashing, no salt in the air but what they lacked in sand and the ocean they made up for in beautiful wide open green spaces like lakes and walking trails.
I sat on the bench near the water with my notebook opened and the questions staring back at me. I tapped the pen against the page, exhaling slowly.
“What have you been carrying that isn’t yours to carry anymore…”
“Everything,” I muttered under my breath. I shook my head and closed the notebook already feeling too defeated to write anything down. I set the notebook aside and leaned back crossing my arms over my chest. I took the scenery before me.
When the following week rolled around I was looking forward to my second session. I even arrived a few minutes early. When I walked in, I placed my notebook open on the desk. Dr. Thomas glanced at it, smiled, and said, “Looks like you did the homework.”