About therapy

For those familiar with my blog, it is no secret that I am a big proponent of therapy. I know that each person deals with their problems in their own ways and therefore, I am only sharing my opinion based on experience. But for me, therapy was a big factor in my recovery. As with my depression, I get asked various questions about my process: what does therapy entails, what techniques are used, if it’s weird, if I have enough to say to fill twice-weekly 1-hour sessions, etc. So, I thought, that perhaps I could shed some light on it. To inform, to raise awareness and maybe to encourage people to seek help. I don’t pretend to be some Joan of Arc but-and please forgive me for being a cheese-if I can help but one, if I can prevent just one person for going through what I’ve been through- then I’m happy.

It is my understanding that there are many types of therapy and that each therapist forges his or her own technique. A therapist is a weird being; it is a confidant, someone who knows your deepest secrets, fears and aspirations and who, yet, remains a stranger to you. That kind of relationship may breed some frustrations (I know it has for me, and I am still struggling to this day) and even some feelings of inferiority. As a patient, you feel vulnerable, you feel exposed and here you have some Il-duce type figure, sitting in his/her chair and staring at you. Many a time, I felt like I wanted to tip-the-scale, like I wanted to analyze him (my therapist is a man), like I wanted to sit there-all Abraham Lincoln-like, but I realized that it’s not about him. It’s about me. This is my space. And I choose to do this. My therapist is not very verbal either. He mostly lets me talk and interjects once in a while. When he interjects, however his speech is heartfelt and eye opening. But that was too, something that I needed to get used to: basically, sitting for an hour and having a monologue-or rather-thinking out loud to a very infuriatingly neutral audience. Sometimes, you long for a reaction-any kind of reaction. But always needing validation also speaks to your insecurities and your insatiable need for reassurance. Therapy, I have learned is a Mobius strip of questions and answers. Everything you do, think and voice out loud raises more questions, more flaws, more traits on which to improve. In a way, talking with yourself in front of a non-judgmental audience allows you to dig deep, to hold a mirror to yourself and understand your inner workings. What I’ve learned from therapy, perhaps the most valuable lesson that I will carry with me all my life, is that my feelings are legitimate. It’s ok to feel how you do, and no one can tell you otherwise. You might feel deeply wounded by something that happened in your past, something that would feel very trivial to somebody else. And what you’re feelings matters. People might deal with things in different ways but there is no point in comparing how so and so might react or recover. I have come to enjoy sitting down and spending time to work on myself. I need that. I need to be forced to sit down in a foreign environment. Because truthfully, if I’m alone at home, I won’t meditate. I will not, it’s not happening for me. Some naysayers will say that people like me use therapy as a crutch, as a replacement for my emotionally crippling self. I disagree. I use therapy as a tool to get better. I have realized that I will NEVER be perfect or fully healed or fully sane. It’s part of life to try. I will undoubtedly stumble some more in my future. But the things I will have realized about myself while in therapy will have helped me weather the storm. Therapy is not for everyone. Perhaps for you walking or doing yoga or meditating is a way of getting in touch with yourself. And that’s fine. But I think that a little introspection benefits everyone. No matter how unpleasant or hard what you might find it is. Forge through. The reward of becoming a better person is worth it. xox