Today, I went for therapy...

After 9 months of procrastinating, this past Friday, I finally decided to go back for therapy. I had wanted to go back way sooner than it happened but I just kept postponing it. I would find every excuse not to go. I don't have enough money (let’s be honest, therapy can be expensive especially if unplanned for). Let me submit this chapter to my therapist then I'll go. I have friends I can talk to that’ll help me figure things out. I’m thinking of getting a new therapist anyway (For some reason my mind had me convinced that my therapist would judge me for talking about things I’d complained about in the past. This definitely wasn’t the case when I actually went). Every excuse imaginable to justify me delaying my need for help. You’d think that as a trainee therapist, this wouldn’t be the case. However, I have learned that I come first before whatever title I’m working towards. I am a human first. Interestingly this is something I mistakenly thought I had to do away with in order to be there for my clients (Now I think, this might just be my superpower in order to connect more).

You see I'd somehow convinced myself that if I hadn't made progress with my thesis with regards to submitting a chapter, I shouldn't go for therapy. I would only go if I was done. While this worked in the short term, I came to suffer later. I wish I would have set a date. For example, maybe trying this out instead. "If in 2 weeks I won't have submitted anything to my supervisor, I'll go for therapy. I'll share my struggles with my therapist amongst other things going on in my life as well as other thoughts I'm having. It is not a failure on my part that things didn't go as planned. I just need to find a way to make things work." Self-compassion as we therapists call it.

Therapy is not a reward, it is a necessity.

Once I was done with my session, I thought to myself, "Why the hell did I wait so long to get help? Why was I punishing myself by refusing to go?" The thing about having friends who are also therapists is that they make great listeners. In my head, it made sense that I was getting the listening I needed. This certainly works for everyday stressors however, my mental health was suffering. I would consciously numb my painful feelings and would constantly worry that I was being too much to them. A burden. I would get impatient with myself over talking about the same thing over and over again without changing much. “Surely you can't keep complaining if you're not going to do anything about it.” Self-invalidating is what I'd call it in retrospect.

So, what was the last straw that made me finally book the appointment I’d been postponing for weeks? Two days earlier, I just broke down. I was in the bathroom weeping at 3 am. I was overwhelmed with sadness. I was in so much pain, emotionally. I had a good cry, went to the living room where my cat (you'll meet him later and get to hear his story) looked at me a bit funny and I thought about what had just happened. I thought about the release I felt as I was crying about the emotions I’d been holding on to for weeks! I thought about the existential crisis brewing inside and how I never gave it a voice. If I did mention it to a friend, it never went to the depths that I'd wanted to. I had become skeptical of the techniques I either learned in class or came across in practice. I was tired. Mentally exhausted. Everything that I had tried to do backfired. I internalized it as, "You're the problem, not the technique. You can't do it wrong and expect it to work." (Techniques are basically the activities we do in therapy to help our clients achieve a certain goal. For example creating a planner for someone struggling with time management). With a lot of nerves and reasons as to why I shouldn’t reach out, I sent my therapist the following message:

“Hi *therapist name*. How are you? It has been long since we last spoke. I hope you're well. I'd like to come for therapy. What days are you available this week and next week?”

I saw his response and regretted reaching out. Part of me still felt undeserving of help, the other was desperate for it. I’m glad the former won. We set the session for 11 am. That morning, the weather was gloomy. Three hours before the session, I thought about canceling. I’m glad I didn’t. As I left the house that morning I thought to myself, “Let’s go pay *therapist’s name* to cry”. It didn’t take too long for the waterworks to be unleashed. He asked me all the right questions. We covered issues such as self-worth, self-compassion, pain, and attachment injuries. “Where is your pain?” He asked. “That’s a very deep question,” I’d say. (I like to tell my therapist what he’s doing based on what I’ve learnt in class. We laugh about it. Many times in session I’ll say to him, “I can see you’re using this skill, that technique” whenever he asks a question. He finds it amusing. We laugh about it. He still makes me answer the question anyway!)

Back to Friday’s session. Mid-session, I began to feel a headache coming on. I thought to myself that I’d just go straight home after. I had plans to run a few errands since I was out of the house anyway (Shout out to all the homebodies). Surprisingly, at the end of therapy, it had disappeared. Weird, right? I felt free. Relaxed. Talk about the mind-body connection! (I need to put a disclaimer here, this is my experience specific to this day. It doesn’t happen all the time although I’m grateful when it does. In the past, sometimes I’d leave therapy feeling discouraged. You aren’t guaranteed to feel free and relieved and that’s ok. Some sessions can be draining. Keep going in case you’re unsure. If the feeling persists may be due to a disconnect with your therapist, find another one. Trust the process, eventually, it’ll pay off).

Three days later, have my problems gone away now that I went for therapy? The short answer is no. However, what's different is that I feel like I am in a better space mentally. I can sincerely be kind to myself. I can allow myself to mess up without it being a reflection of my worth. What I have come to love about therapy is that I basically have a space to talk about everything that's going on inside me. All the thoughts I'm having that in the outside world would be met with judgment and invalidation are laid bare. I get to talk freely without caring about anyone else's feelings but my own. In therapy, I don't have to care that my words are hurting the people I care about. That they won’t act differently because of what I said. When you struggle with people-pleasing, this is quite refreshing.

Therapy continues to teach me that it's ok for me to be me. It's ok to not have everything figured out. It's ok to be sad, have no clue what you're doing but still try to show up. Therapy has taken me to places I was too afraid to go to because of how hard it’s been to keep it together over the years when pain plays such a central part in your life. Therapy has been validating and affirming. I have felt seen and heard. Valued.

Therapy: past, present, future

My short-term plan is to try going for therapy consistently for the next 2 weeks. To ensure this happens, I’ve paid upfront. I hope that it will give some sort of stability in my otherwise blurry and foggy days of unemployment (post coming soon) and thesis writing. In the long-term, I plan to have sessions for maintenance purposes. If I just want to vent without caring how my words will influence how the other person will relate with me, I will go for therapy (This is something I constantly worry about when sharing my thoughts and feelings with friends). If I want to just have a good cry because life has been overwhelming, I'll go for therapy. If I'm happy and I just want to celebrate my milestones, I'll go for therapy. I'll not wait to break before I go. This time around I'll go for therapy with a notebook. No more taking mental notes.

After every session, I want to sit with myself and reflect on the things that struck me. Things that helped me gain insight into my issues. In the past, I would take mental notes, avoid any negative feelings and end up forgetting what I'd learned all together. Basically, I didn't put in the work as a client. After all, in future, I can only go as far with my clients as to where I've been. I guess what I'm saying is that I'm ready to do the work. I know what it entails, rather I have an idea of what it may entail. It's nerve-wracking but I'm willing to try. Willing to do it afraid. Hopefully, stick by it no matter how uncomfortable it might get. Come home to me.

As I said to my therapist in my last session, I want to build myself up into the person that'll carry me through life's changing phases. I want to sort of come up with a manual for myself. The “k” that remains constant despite the equation (hey math nerds!). I want to create a life for myself where I show up as I am, enough. Whole. If there's one thing I'm sure has remained constant as a child, adolescent and now as an adult, is me. The things I like and dislike, the things that make me, me. My core. I want her to carry me through life. No matter where I am in the world or whatever role I'm playing at that time. I want to know her, acknowledge her, see her, hear her, affirm her, appreciate her, love her. Everything I've been so busy depending on other people to do for me.

P.S. Soon (maybe in my next post), I want to talk about the value we give to certain stories. I want to explore how we react to other people’s stories and the voices we give a chance to be heard and how this makes us lose out on certain stories simply because they don’t quite fit into the mold.