Hello my loves,
As you can probably tell from the title of this post, I’m finally going to therapy. Well, I’ve already been, once, and am now continuing to go.
I mentioned in my mental break post that I was being referred for intensive therapy, which I still am, but the wait list was so long it just wasn’t practical for me, so in the meantime I’ve sourced my own therapist and am having weekly sessions with her to basically sort out the mess that is my brain. My first session was supposed to last 50 minutes and I ended up being in there for over 2 hours. It was a lot. Earlier on that day I’d had one of the worst panic attacks I’ve ever had since I was probably 16, I was so physically exhausted it felt like I’d had some kind of seizure. I was just devoid of everything, and then a few hours later I had to go to my first therapy session and discuss 10 years’ worth of baggage and emotional trauma that I’d been trying to supress for years. By the end of the day, I was done.
I’ve said this previously regarding my “breakdown” but, I knew things were bad, I just didn’t realise how bad. And the answer was unfortunately, very. There’s a lot of things I’ve supressed and tried to forget about and well, I knew damage had been done to me, I just didn’t realise it was this much. It was more than even I had thought, and I knew it was a lot. It’s scary. The one word I would use to describe all of this is, scary. Last week when I had that panic attack, I’d convinced myself I was going to go crazy. I was sure that all of this would be too much for my brain to cope with and therefore I’d just shut down, it would send me over the edge, send me loopy, and I’d end up in a mental institute at 26 and dead not long after. It was terrifying. That’s why I’m so fiercely trying to combat all of this now, because I never want to feel like that again.
So, my first therapy session. It was hard. I had to say things I hadn’t said out loud for years, I had to talk about people I didn’t want to talk about, I had to face some truths that I didn’t want to hear and I had to re-live things I’d been trying so hard to forget. But it was worth it. And afterwards I didn’t feel…relief, per say, but it was something along those lines. I now had a space where I could dump all of my thoughts, and that space was dedicated to combing through those thoughts in an attempt to figure out what they meant, but once I had left that space, I had left my thoughts in there along with it. I kind of see it as a box now – my therapist’s living room is where all of these thoughts live, but once I leave that room, I leave my thoughts there inside it too, and I don’t return to them until my next session. That time is for those thoughts only, but outside of that, I need to get on with my life. It’s a relief knowing that now, no matter what happens in my life, I will always, weekly, have somewhere to take those thoughts and work through them, so that they don’t eat me up inside. The key is for my therapist and I to go right back to the very start and figure out how it got to the point that it’s at now, aka, rock bottom. I’m not excited, but, I’m thankful that finally, something is going to get done about my mind.
Therapy is a luxury that not everyone can afford, and whilst I’ve mostly always been in a position where I could get therapy if I wanted, I’ve always been scared of it. It’s only now, at 24, and the lowest point I’ve reached, that I’ve realised I can no longer run from this. I have to face it head-on. Something needs to be done.
And so that’s what’s happening, I don’t really know what I’m trying to say in this post, and in actuality there’s not much I really can say because I’m aware there’s a lot more people out there more experienced with therapy than me, I’m just glad I’m finally doing something about it. Despite everything, now does seem like the right time. I hope that in a year from now, I can look back on this post and see how far I’ve come and how much better my mind is, what an exciting thought to have.
All my love,