(on Fridays around these parts, I take a little time to make sure that all the happy things happening in my life get a shout out)
I’m proud of myself this week: I finally did something that’s been on my to-do list for — literally — years.
I got in touch with a therapist and am in the process of setting up an appointment. One of those things that I’ve always thought would do me a lot of good, but fear kept me from moving forward on.
Like I touched on in my previous post, there’s a large part of me that thinks I should be able to solve my own problems — I mean, really, it’s not like I’m dealing with anything horrendous here. And recently, I feel like I’ve been making headway on being more self-aware and figuring out the connections between what I think, what I say, what I do and how I feel about the whole shebang.
And then there’s the fact that I’ve got friends who have offered: “you know you can talk to me”. And yes – I can. And I know that I have friends who truly care about me and my well-being, but in the end, I don’t know that I can make it their responsibility. They’ve got families and their own stuff to manage — they don’t need another person to care for.
Another thing that I realized — one of those obvious, “DUH!” moments, actually — is that no matter who I’m talking to, I constantly edit what I’m saying. More or less, depending on the friend I’m talking with, but there’s always parts of what’s going through my head that doesn’t get talked about, because I know that it wouldn’t make me a very attractive person — to anyone.
It’s funny, because while I can spew my words out on paper, in person I have a much harder time of it. I think my friends must want to shake me to get words out of my mouth sometimes. I pause, I think, I edit, I analyze, I re-edit, all in my head and all while the conversation completely stalls. I’m so afraid of either betraying my deepest, darkest secrets (which – really – aren’t so deep or dark) or accidentally hurting someone’s feelings that it’s hard for me to spit the words out.
So, the draw of having a therapist? I’ll have someone who’s paid to listen to me. And not judge me. And not get mad at me. And someone whom there is absolutely no upside to not saying whatever’s in my head, no matter how badly it reflects on my personality. It’ll be like confession for this not-so-Catholic-anymore girl.
I feel like I probably know the answers to my questions and problems, but I just need someone to draw them out of me, and then make me accountable for following through with them.
Certainly this can’t hurt. And I really am proud of myself for pushing past the scary unknowns to get in touch with someone who might be able to change my life.