Stones in My Pocket

Heard this song today:

I've got stones in my pocket
No feathers in my bed
I see the road and I'm walking
But my legs are made of lead

Oh save me
Won't you save me from my ways
Save me won't you save me from my ways
'Cause the only way I know how to live...
The only way I know is killing me

I've been climbing that high mountain
Slide back down everyday
I've been drinking from the fountain
But I'm thirsty anyway

Oh save me
Won't you save me from my ways
Save me won't you save me from my ways
'Cause the only way I know how to live...
The only way I know is killing me

I said never but I did it
What I thought I'd never do
I took a stone from my pocket
And I threw it right at you

Oh save me
Won't you save me from my ways
Save me won't you save me from my ways
'Cause the only way I know how to live...
The only way I know is killing you
Now the only way I know is killing me

And I thought of something a friend told me a long time ago. She said that for her, going to therapy is like taking stones out of your pocket that you didn't know you were carrying around. You just start to feel lighter.

I agree -- and I am extremely fortunate to have such a competent, compassionate therapist, because I sure need one!