Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Therapy Thoughts

How do you write about therapy? 
It's not a topic that comes up in day to day life.
Aside from a few close friends, no on even knows I'm in therapy. Except for now, when I decide to write about it in a public forum. With a blog title like Mentally Messy though, it shouldn't be a surprise to people that I may be looking to sort some things out. Even still, it's a difficult thing to admit. I've thought long and hard about what I would even say.. or if I would say anything at all.

So I'm just going to write.
First, no one told me to go to therapy. No one suggested that maybe I have some issues to address. I decided (after a long period of finding and loosing happiness) that I wanted someone to talk to. And so I found a therapist. I've been diligently going every Wednesday for the past almost 3 months. Still after 9+ sessions, I have mixed feelings.

I don't know what I thought therapy would be. I don't know if I expected to walk in and tell her my issues only for her to chime in at the last moments and tell me how to sort out my shit. That's not what happens, by the way. I wish that's how it went down. But then, that would be too easy. Therapy is anything but easy. It's mostly just me talking as she sits across from me all beautiful and blonde and smart, and listens. She just listens. I don't know if it's just me or if everyone has this reaction but that is hard. To sit and talk about your innermost thoughts and feelings for an hour is hard. Knowing that I am telling all my personal business to a person I know nothing about sends shock waves of terror through me. 

We talk about whatever is on my mind that day - be it a problem I'm struggling with, my family, tragic things, happy things. It all comes out.. Like emotional word vomit. Sometimes, she'll give me a knowing look if she can sense what I'm saying is especially painful. Bless her, she laughs when I try to make an uncomfortable situation funny. 

Here's where the mixed feelings come in. Some days I leave the office happy and refreshed. Like the metaphorical boulder of emotions I carry is finally rolling along on its own. Those days I feel light. Those days I beam confidence and light. Other days I feel drained. I've never been one to talk about my feelings. So talking about painful or even happy things for an hour can be extremely exhausting. Those days I wonder why I do it. Especially when I am offered little advice on how to proceed with my thoughts when I leave the office.

I'm not saying therapy is bad. I'm just saying I'm not sure if it's for me. Maybe I'm simply not strong enough to unload my baggage on someone else. I find it far more therapeutic to write my thoughts out and discuss them internally with myself. I will try a little longer though. Mostly because I'm not sure how exactly one goes about breaking up with their therapist. Perhaps I should start with it's not you, it's me.. That always seems to end well.

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