Back around the beginning of this year, I started thinking about seeing a therapist. There were a number of reasons why the idea popped in my head, and I did a little reading on the subject. I even talked to a couple close friends to get their insight, mostly ones who I knew had already been to a therapist in the past. They all encouraged me to go ahead with it, considering the benefits they had gotten from therapy.
Then came the procrastinating. I kept thinking, "Oh, I'll go find one. Next week." A week turned into two weeks, then four weeks, and then next thing I knew six months had gone by and I still didn't do anything about it. Denial had crept its way into my head too, fooling me into thinking maybe I didn't really need one after all. I told myself I'm fine on plenty of occasions, and that I didn't think I needed a therapist like I had first thought I did.
The past few days taught me otherwise.
I'm not going to go into the deep details because they're too private, but I realized earlier this week that I need to find a therapist. I don't care if she tells me I'm overreacting in needing to talk to someone; hell, if she does tell me that I'll probably be relieved. Still, I'm pretty confident that I could use some professional insight instead of just some family members or friends telling me what I want to hear.
Last night I think was the confirmation more than anything else that I need some mental help. I went to bed after a night out with my friends, and I had a dream about my family. I've talked on here a few times about how my family has become very disjointed since my parents' divorce, but the effect it's had on me has been greater than I've estimated. I dreamed that somehow my parents chose to reconcile and got back together, eventually remarrying. It was one of those dreams that almost felt like reality to me, and when I had woken up I didn't realize at first that it was merely a dream. When the truth did settle in on me, I felt something like disappointment, though that word is far too soft to describe my reaction. I regretted that I had woken up, wishing that I could go back to that mental fantasy.
I had already called a local therapist and set up an appointment for Monday evening after work a couple days ago, so this dream wasn't the catalyst for my choice. It was, however, more evidence to confirm the necessity for working through a lot of emotional baggage that I've been carrying around. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if I found out there was plenty more issues that I'm not already aware of that I need to work on as well. Time will tell just what kinds of issues I have buried deep inside me, and how long it will take for me to work on them.
I haven't yet decided on just what kinds of details I will share on here regarding my sessions. It'll likely depend on the kinds of things we discuss, and the things I learn about myself. The good thing is that I've gotten over my initial procrastination and denial, and it "only" took me six months to figure that part out.
I don't know how long the road is ahead of me, but there may be some hope.
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