A year of therapy
As of right now, I’ve actually been seeing a therapist regularly since early 2018. This is actually a pretty big thing for quite a few reasons.
1 — Being British, therapy isn’t something that’s advertised as something you need. It’s slowly changing, but it’s not like in the US where everyone sees a therapist and it’s a normal part of your regular health checks, or accepted as such. It can also be prohibitively expensive unless you’re lucky (I am one of those lucky ones — it’s still expensive, but manageable on my salary, and is still the best gift I ever got myself), and NHS provision has slowly been eroded to next to nothing so those who do need help don’t even know where to start.
2 — This is the longest time I’ve been in my therapy and my 3rd attempt. Third time is the charm right? Well it certainly seems to be with me. First two times seemed to focus on blaming what brought me to the chair, and not really focussed on what I was doing wrong, and yes, I was and still am doing things wrong. The fact is I have a therapist now who can call me out on my bullshit and is helping me work through it. You might not consider yourself the problem, but you really need some tough coping mechanisms and guess what therapy gives you….yup…coping mechanisms, and understanding.
3 — So many times I’ve heard ‘you don’t need a therapist, it’s other people that’s the problem’. NOPE. Not true. Anyone who has ever asked me why I go, this is why I’m writing this. I’ve never been able to give a proper response in the heat of the moment. If you view yourself as always right, not damaged, broken, whatever…well you’ll never work through what you need to work through. You’ll just accept that you never do anything wrong, yet the same patterns keep emerging.
And that’s what happened to me. Patterns. Patterns in my behaviour. Patterns I didn’t want to repeat anymore. I am the standard empathic sort, and what do empaths attract? Mostly narcissists. Narcissists who will suck the marrow out of you like a dog with a bone, and then be done with you. This wasn’t the pattern with everyone in my life, but it seems way too regular to be healthy. What happened after a narcissist left/ghosted/whatever was I would spiral in to a depression there didn’t seem to be a way out of. So off I’d go to the doctors for another medical intervention, and a trip to a therapist, where I’d blame everyone else, feel better, come off the meds, and then repeat. Not a good picture is it?
This time was pretty awful — I got absolutely side swiped by someone who I never expected around the end of 2017. He never really asked me for anything, but what I gave (and gave I surely did) he took, and took some more. He got angry at me at the end and blamed me for doing what I did, and do you know what? He was right. I shouldn’t have been taken in so easily. I should have seen through him so much sooner, but he was charming, and pretty hot, and on the surface it was good — but underneath was a messed up mama’s boy. He needed therapy more than me, but I was so empty afterwards that I needed to not do this anymore.
At the beginning of this time with therapy, I was a broken husk. There wasn’t much to work with, but my therapist saw something in me that clearly wasn’t broken. There was still a spark of me left, and he was determined to get that out of me. I have come a long way since our first meeting. The patterns I mentioned weren’t something that were obvious to me then for a start. I blamed myself constantly for everything. We picked apart my relationships with people and what similarities they had. How I reacted to every day situations, and how to cope with them. I always told him that CBT was useless to me, turns out it actually wasn’t, just the versions I’ve done didn’t work without other therapies. I think he was quite pleased on the day I admitted that CBT wasn’t entirely useless! I’ve cried, I’ve laughed, sworn like a trooper, been rubbish at doing my homework (try working on compassion based training when you’re not feeling especially compassionate!) and right now — it might not be all the way OK, but it’s mostly there.
So, why do I need a therapist? Well I’ve dealt with depression and anxiety most of my adult life. Some days are good, great even, some not so much. It’s on those not so much days that I have to remember there is great to come. To not spiral, to recognise the peaks and flows of my moodswings and be OK with them. I’m not entirely broken. I’m a flawed human being just like everyone else, but rather than blame everyone else, therapy helps me recognise my flaws and do something about them. I’ve always said to people who’ve asked me about therapy you can’t force yourself to do it. You need to feel that it is the best thing for you to do. Not because someone tells you to, but because you want to. You don’t want to feel bad anymore. You don’t want to repeat the same things over and over. You want to remember that even when you’re at the darkest part of your mood that it will lift, and you can do this. Not everyone in the world will hurt you. Of course you’ll meet people who will, but don’t let that hurt drag you down to a pit from which you can’t get out of. Be kind to yourself — it’s not an easy process for sure — and kind to other people. Also not easy, especially when they’ve been less kind back.
Therapy will help you, if you want it too. It’s a partnership. It takes a lot of work, but it’s so worth it when you see how much can change in a year. Don’t see the process as something you do when you’re weak; you sought help at the hardest time of your life, and you were willing to work on something so drastic that you go to a stranger to help you achieve that. If that isn’t strong and dedicated I don’t know what is. If you’re ready to work at it, it will pay you back tenfold.
Hopefully one day, it will be a normal conversation to have with someone. No stigma, just as normal as going for a regular check up, and making a joke out of it in the pub with your friends.
