The Dreaded 'T' Word
If you'd asked me a couple months ago if I'd miss going to therapy I would have laughed in your face. A couple months ago, I was begging and pleading and making up every excuse in the book to avoid therapy. I hated it. Days before a session I'd give myself anxiety attacks thinking about having to endure it. It was miserable, uncomfortable, and exhausting, but now I'd give up my rather large shoe collection to be able to go.
This month I'm not able to go because of my stupid insurance. Long story short there is a month long limbo in between my coverage and Will's. It's ridiculous and illogical, but I think that's the definition of insurance. So, I had to begrudgingly push out all my appointments and postpone my treatment with a therapist.
he first time I tried therapy I was in college. I did not like having to admit that I had a problem. I didn't like having to face my fears head on. I didn't like realizing I was fighting an irrational war in my head and was losing badly. I went for a couple sessions before making excuses to miss my appointments and eventually I stopped going. I've tried on and off again throughout the years that followed, but always with the same result. I didn't understand what other people were getting out of it that I wasn't. I never felt better when I left and none of the coping techniques seemed to work for me. I didn't realize there is more than one type of therapy out there and I was going to the wrong one for me and what I was dealing with.
hen I started this journey, I was sent to a psychiatrist. She recommended I try cognitive behavioral therapy along with exposure therapy. I needed help understanding how to re-train my brain to deal with the constant thrum of irrational thoughts. The process for me is exhausting in a way that is draining both physically and mentally, but it's helped tremendously. I'm less afraid of my own panic attacks and understand how to insert positive, rational thoughts to help dismiss the negative, irrational ones. Therapy along with medication have truly changed my life. I'm far from "cured" and know I'll always battle against this, but now I've got some weapons in my arsenal. I'm not blindly fighting in the dark anymore.
So, now I miss therapy. It's still difficult and truly sucks somedays, but I see the value in it. I'm able to see the progress I've made. It's a painfully slow process and sometimes I wonder if I'm making progress at all, but I've come to take the little wins and celebrate them. They are worth opening a good bottle of wine and spoiling myself a little. Because I am worth it. I'm worth spending the time on myself to make my life better, not just for myself, but for my family. They are my world and I want to be present with them in it and this is what I need to do to be able to.