My hands are tied not with rope or chain or tape but by mind, emotion, and old tapes that secure me against writing my book. A physical impediment would be clear to see and to feel and to find a way around. But it is my mind, and the mind can lie, cheat, and wrap me in denial, excuses, justifications, and reasons to do it tomorrow.

Tomorrow does not come but drifts along a day at a time until there is no tomorrow to look to. But I see it now. From an early age my mind has been conditioned to believe I cannot do, am incompetent, and there is no use trying. I will fail.

With DBT therapy I am recognizing what makes me tick and finding ways to turn my mind to my benefit. I am learning that just because I think a certain thing does not make it true. I am glad to know I am fallible. It opens my mind to change. And what I must change is my mind.

I write in fits and starts. I charge into it, I back into it, I write cautiously, deliberately, intermittently. I say I must have a starting point, a beginning sentence that intrigues, and a good reason to go through the sheer pain of writing it. My mind says I am not smart enough, the old tape from Ma that asks “Just who do you think you are” putting me back in my place, a loser, a nobody, a person who will “mess this up just like you have everything else.”

It is my job to replace the old with new tapes. It is my job to pat myself on the back each time I accomplish something, or at least see it through to the end. It is my job. Standing up to my mother 19 years after her death.

It’s all in my mind. It is true. The mind is where I will find my way out of the ties that bind me. Today, not tomorrow.