Therapy's Just Not For Me

For years I told myself that therapy wasn't a good fit for me. I was stubborn enough to figure out whatever came up on my own.

Don't get me wrong, I never judged anyone who admitted that they saw a therapist. In fact, typically I would worry about them. I would wonder if they were OK. Was there something more I could be doing for them (I know. I'm working on not trying to fix everyone... We're just down to most people... Baby steps).

So why was I so resistant? Well, I told myself lots of reasons. "I don't have time. ", "What if they're not good?", "Why should I?" (that's the stubborn side rearing it's ugly head).

But really? I was scared. Absolutely terrified. What if they told me that I was broken? What if all of my worries that something was really wrong with me were true? What if I just couldn't be fixed?

Recently, I had a chat with a child about therapy. There is some resistance in getting her help that she probably needs more than anyone realizes, but the stigmas around therapy only being there for when something is wrong have overshadowed any of the good that would come of it. She told me, "I don't need therapy anymore. I'm all better."

That statement alone broke my heart more than anything. She thought she was bad, broken, no good. And without therapy, that meant she wasn't those things anymore. No one sat her down to explain that sometimes therapy is to help heal, mend, and teach.

But then I realized that I saw myself the same way. When I went from twice a month to once a month, I was better. I didn't need that constant support. And... It was partially true. I have gained skills to help myself lead a healthier life. I can stop and look at my reactions to something and change them. I can stop myself from just berating and hating all of me. I am learning to act on love instead of anger. I'm learning to love me.

Yet in the moment of talking to this child, I calmly explained that I see a therapist. When she asked why, I told her, "Sometimes we just need to know that there is someone to talk to. If you are having a bad week, they can help you. If you're having a good week, great, then you can just talk. But they are there for you."

I'm not sure how much my words will impact her, but they have continued to run through my mind. Which, I do. Frequently. Which can get me into trouble.

I relive moments. Often times it ends in bone crushing guilt about a singular moment that no one else even realized happened. But I see it there. I recognize that things could have been done differently. And there's absolutely nothing I can do to change what has been set in stone.

That lack of control is frightening, but I'm also learning that the fear and guilt are not necessary. Hearing my words as they flow out animatedly to my therapist (yes, I make her laugh with my crazy antics), I understand where my faults lie... Most of the time.

The other times, she pulls me back on track. She gives me tools. She helps me see the progress I've made. She gets me to say the words myself, so that I can see that they are true.

When I first went to my appointment a year and a half ago, it wasn't for me. I went for someone else, but it got me there. By the time I got to the third appointment, it finally turned it's focus on me. Who was I? What was my diagnosis? (severe depression and anxiety, if you wondered).

She asked if I was surprised. I said "not even a little", then admitted that I had already done the math to see where I would fall on the scale. Slowly, I learned that my depression had been following me for many years. The times in high school when I was withdrawn and no longer knew how to fit in were actually just me not understanding my feelings of depression and anxiety. The moments that I felt like I missed out on were actually there, just clouded by my worry for everything else.

More than once I have surprised someone by openly stating that I have depression and am in therapy. I don't want it to be scary for someone else who might be fighting the same battle against themselves. I want people to know that there are options out there. Someone will help you to find services. I know mental health care in this country is super fucked, but there are so many amazing people who can find ways around that.

And sometimes, just talking to your friends or loved ones will let you see how not alone you are. There are other people who feel the things you feel, or lack to feel the way you do. Watch for the ones who laugh and step away for a quiet moment. Watch for the ones who love to help everyone. Check in with your loves and let them know that you can be a safe place for them, even if they just want to quietly sit. And at the same time, practice letting people know that you may not have the capacity to give them more than your company.

We all deal with our stresses differently, and as long as it's not hurting you or anyone else, who the fuck cares how you do it. Go out and conquer your life. Fight your own battles, even if that just means brushing your hair once a week.

We will all get through this life together, but it will be a much better journey if we can complete it through love and understanding.

I love you all. Even if we never talk or you don't truly know me, know that there is love for you. You are human. You are alive, and that makes you worth it.