(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)
Remember how I talked about finally going to see a therapist? It finally happened.
It came at a point where I was starting to get a little down. I hadn’t been explicitly doing research on depression, but in the matter of a few days, I came across two things in my internet wanderings that started low-level alarms in my head. The first was a quote (which I can’t appropriately attribute to anyone, sorry): “Depression happens when you’re too strong for too long.” I read that and thought, YES.
The second was a passage on Mommy Loves Vodka from her husband The Daver, where he talked about depression being a self-perpetuating cycle where all you want is for people to notice that you’re not doing well and wanting nothing more than for them to reach out and offer help. But then also knowing that if that someone were to step in, concerned, you’d tell them you were fine anyway. Yup, that feels like my life, all too often.
And so, when the email that came late Tuesday night telling me that the therapist I had contacted had an opening, it seemed like perfect timing – a sign from the universe letting me know that there’s always something that can be done to take steps forward, to make progress on becoming the person you want to be.
I’ve had just one initial appointment, and it was good. I was on the verge of tears almost the entire time – not that we were covering very emotional territory, but I think it was overwhelming just knowing that I was finally doing this (this is my first time ever talking to a therapist). I worked hard to be completely honest, despite an incredibly strong drive to present myself as this normal, well-adjusted, happy person (my default behavior).
I’m proud of myself for taking this step. I can’t exactly see the end game and how it’s going to help, but I’m positive it can’t hurt and am pretty certain it’ll push me towards a better me.