Therapy? Who Needs it! Not Me, I’m Fine!

Therapy? Nah. Not for me. I can handle things on my own.

That was my attitude when people suggested I might try counseling. And for quite a few years there were those who said I needed it.

Part of the problem was that I felt that counseling and therapy were only for those who had a serious mental illness. Since I didn’t think I had anything wrong with my mental state, why should I go?

Sure, I had bouts of depression but I also have PCOS. Depression comes with that. I just felt it was all part of the package I had to learn to live with.

I was in my thirties before I recognized the self-esteem issues I suffered from. Before that, I don’t think I could even define the term “self-esteem”. But I bought some self-help books on self-esteem and started working on mine.

In my forties, I was researching narcissism because it perfectly described my mother, and discovered I am an empath. What I didn’t realize at the time is that living with a narcissist for a long time can leave you suffering from PTSD.

Others Knew What I Didn’t

Others may have recognized the mental issues I was dealing with without putting labels on them. Perhaps that was why they suggested I might benefit from talking with a counselor.

But, I was stubborn. From childhood on, I believed that counseling was brainwashing. And besides that, I was taking care of it all on my own with the self-help books. I was certain I didn’t need therapy.

The problem with that thinking is that we can’t always correctly diagnose ourselves. And without a correct understanding of the problem, there’s no way to find the right solution.

When I applied for Social Security Disability a couple of years ago, I had mentioned my depression to my lawyer. He asked if I had been diagnosed. I hadn’t. I never went in to be treated. He told me that without a diagnosis, then it is as if I never had it.

I still didn’t want to go to talk to a stranger about the things roaming around in my head. But, I also felt that it couldn’t hurt, especially since the depression had been worse since I had to quit work.

I Gave In And Signed Up

So, I signed up for therapy. Thankfully, I got a good therapist the first time, and she seemed to understand me from the beginning. Instead of dreading our sessions, I started to look forward to them. It was nice to have someone who actually listened to hear me and understand me. Most of the time, people listened to give me their opinion or advice.

She gave me assignments to work on in between sessions to help with my thought processes. We addressed the depression as well as the anxiety that I also dealt with after quitting work. Although she never said anything to me personally, I know she recognized the PTSD from my childhood.

The woman who first walked into her therapy room was a timid, speechless little mouse who was afraid and scared. When my sessions were done two years later, I left feeling like a lion capable of tackling the world again.

I learned a lot from her. And I continue to learn on my own as well. I still have my self-help books, but they make more sense to me now. With her help, I have a better understanding of why I have done the things I have in the past and how I need to work to correct that behavior.

Still Learning

I don’t think I will ever be able to say I am completely healed. There’s been a lot of mental damage done over the years. And I can’t blame just my narcissistic parent. There have been others who have taken advantage of the fact that I was weak and timid to use or abuse me.

It’s kind of funny. I’ve always been able to speak up for anyone else. I’m a loud advocate for anyone I feel is not being treated right or fairly. But, when it comes to my own life, I have taken the abuse sitting down with tape on my tongue. I never learned how to speak up for myself.

People are surprised when I do now. This is a side of me they aren’t used to. It still takes a lot for me to speak up for myself. Confrontations and raised voices are hard for me to deal with even yet. These are as a result of the PTSD from my childhood. But, I’m learning to get past them.

Not Everyone Can Understand

People who have never suffered the things I have may not ever be able to understand my difficulty in doing some of these things. It may come easily and logically for them. Even if two people came from the same family, they may not understand each other, because their experiences from their childhood were different.

All I can say is that I am grateful I finally did go to therapy. It was one of the best decisions I made for myself. I was wrong in thinking you had to have a serious mental illness to need therapy. I didn’t have a serious mental illness. But I did have flawed thinking about myself.

Would I go to therapy again? Yes! In a heartbeat. If I ever get to a point again where I feel like my life is getting out of control and I can’t keep my thoughts straight I will go back and get the help I need. There’s no shame in having gone to see a therapist. Instead, I think it’s something to be proud of because you did something good for yourself.