Therapy Newbie: My First Session

Well, I did it. I had my first therapy session.

I was terrified, both about opening up to someone I don’t know and about figuring out how to pay for it. My insurance doesn’t cover all of the cost and we don’t have extra money. But I went anyway.

I drove my car in an unknown area to a place I had not been before and I got lost. It was 45 minutes away, but it was important to me that my therapist was a woman and that it wouldn’t be likely that I would ever need to interact with her outside of therapy. At one point my phone said I had arrived at the office, but I couldn’t find it anywhere. So since I was downtown, I parked and got out to walk around. This is what scared me most all night. I was terrified of someone trying to hurt me as I walked around with no clue where my destination was. I ended up calling my therapist and I was going to cancel since I was already scared out of my wits, but she told me how to find the office and she told me she would stand outside and look for me (which was super nice seeing as it was like 4 degrees outside). I ended up making it to therapy and I am pretty proud that I got there at all.

I chose a woman as my therapist and she was actually really calming and understanding. My first visit was basically taking stock of who I am. She asked all about my background (who my parents are, are they married or divorced, am I married, etc.) and she did get specific about some areas of my past. I found that going over that stuff was helpful for me as well because there are areas of my past that were cloudy or confusing because I had never taken the time to think about them. I could also see areas where some of the events of my past are affecting me today, but I didn’t see them until I sat down to tell a stranger all about myself.

We did go over the reason I sought help in the first place and we talked a bit about that. She said that she would like to see me every other week, but I can’t afford that so we will try to do it every month. I hope that I can figure out a way to see her every other week though.

I am really happy that I finally started therapy and it is showing in my life. I am having more good days and I am more productive. my post (65)Just getting that stuff out to someone without having to worry about hurting them was an amazing feeling. I don’t really have friends that I can just talk to about all the super personal things in my life so my husband is my only sounding board. He is my best friend and I love him and being with him, but it’s difficult to discuss things with him without being a jerk. You know? Like just because I have a feeling, doesn’t mean it actually means anything but I need someone to hear it and understand it. He would hear it and take it personally and then try to solve the problem because he always wants me to have the best. He really is a fantastic husband.

He has a hard time understanding that just because I tell him about my issues doesn’t mean I want him to fix them. I just want someone to stay on solid ground so I can sink down in the sand as I tell him about my troubles. Then when I’m done, he can pull me back up with him and we can move on with our lives. If I talk to someone who is also on sinking sand, we both end up sinking and then we are stuck in this sadness/anger for a long time until we can eventually climb out ourselves.

That’s what it felt like to talk to a therapist. I got real and blunt, but she is impartial so she was on solid ground. After crying my eyes out, we ended the session and I was able to easily stop and get back to the business of getting home. Therapy worked because there was a limit to our time, so issues couldn’t be dragged out all night like they can at home, and she wasn’t upset with me or sad about what I said so I didn’t feel guilty. I knew I could tell her anything because I didn’t have to worry about it getting out to anyone. So I let it all out, had no guilt about it, and I moved on.

I know that its hard to get yourself into therapy, especially if you don’t have money. I have spent years telling myself that I wanted to do this but it took some serious issues to get my butt into gear and get the ball rolling. There will probably come a time when she won’t be able to see me anymore because I can’t pay, but I’ll take the therapy I can get and cross that bridge when I come to it. I can say that therapy is a good idea for anyone because everyone needs that impartial person to vent to. If you have been wanting to do it, do what you can to get there. You deserve it and you will benefit greatly. I wish I had done it earlier. Honestly, I wish I had started therapy in college (a.k.a. 11ish years ago). If you can do it now, do it now, even if you think you don’t need it. It will help so much.

Have you been in therapy before? Any long time therapy experts out there? What has therapy done for you? What do you love most about going to therapy? Or maybe you hate it? Tell me why in the comments!

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A Wad of Unbrushed Hair and My Bare Face

I woke up to my husband’s alarm going off, except he doesn’t hear it and sleeps right through it. I yell at him to wake him up and turn off the alarm. He hits snooze and goes back to sleep. This whole routine happens three more times and I am so over it. When we finally get up, it’s too late. We don’t have time for everyone to take a shower and still leave on time, so it ended up being my daughter who had to wait until this evening. I had no time to put on makeup of any kind. Which killed me.

What people actually think when they see me without makeup but they’re too nice to be that way. 

I hate the way I look without makeup. I. Hate. It. I am the ugliest person and you know what, no one is gonna convince me otherwise, because they’ve been trying for like at least 23ish years now. If it hasn’t sunk in by now, it’s not going to.

I had no time to clean up my boots that have been stored in the garage for the last three seasons. My husband tried, bless his heart, but there just wasn’t enough time. I wanted to wear one of my cute scarves this morning but all of them are still in the mass of laundry making its way through the laundry like molasses. I had to throw my hair up in a terrible bun. It sucks. Seriously, its a wad of unbrushed wet hair. 

I walked into church this morning and I did not want to talk to anyone, but I guess I really did look like crap because the first thing someone said to me when I walked in the front door was, “What’s wrong?”

I told them that nothing was wrong because I don’t want to tell people about my problems. I just want them all to shut up and leave me alone. And then I thought about how I don’t feel comfortable sharing anything super personal with any of these people at church, who are supposed to be my brothers and sisters. Not that they are mean people, it’s just that I don’t connect with anyone. There’s no one there that I look at and think, “I need to tell them my issues because I know they will make me feel understood.” No, they will give me all the cliches and tell me that everything will be alright and then go back to eating their donuts and coffee, and you know what? I don’t want that. I want someone to tell me how much my situation sucks and to complain about everything with me. I want a friend who literally feels the same way I do now and is upset about stuff too. We can feel better later. Right now, I want to bitch about stuff and no one at church is gonna do that with me.

Of course, everything for the church service was changed last minute and I didn’t check to see if everything had been confirmed so I made the wrong stuff for the show and it was all my fault. Everyone and their brother needed something from me before the service and I had to put on a smile and pretend I was happy to help them. The soundboard was completely messed up and the man who normally runs the sound has it in his head that all the levels and adjustments need to stay the same every single week because that’s how we keep from getting feedback. Guys, he wears a hearing aid. He can’t hear the feedback coming through the speakers. I was in a mood so I actually stood up for myself, when normally I would have just as-you-wished at him. I told him the stage changes constantly and so do the people on it, so you can’t write down the exact places you left the controls that one time everything sounded good and set them to that every week. We were getting feedback when all the levels were at the place they were “supposed to be”. We. need. to. check. them. every. week. and. adjust. So I guess my bad mood was a little productive because I wasn’t rude (miraculously) but I wouldn’t let him tell me I was wrong. 

I checked my blog to see what was up, and somehow I switched a finished and published post back to a draft with all my gifs now missing and my title photo gone as well. So I came home and redid that.

My poor hubby has been trying to help me this whole morning and he really was amazing. He found someone to break into the broken coke machine at the church and get me a Dr. Pepper so I was able to have some caffeine and take my meds, which helped. And we did see some friends at church that I do like to be around, but I don’t know them well enough to air out all my personal stuff. Still, it was nice to see them.

And here I sit listening to my favorite love songs and three grilled cheese sandwiches cut diagonally just the way I like it, made by my hunk of a hubby. It’s true, I was very down this morning. I was crying on the way to church, and I wished as hard as I could that I didn’t have to go. But I did get to genuinely worship a little bit, which made me feel Jesus with me. It helped. And things have calmed down now. No one has to see my gross face and I don’t have to be presentable to anyone. I don’t have to smile if I don’t want to. I don’t have to deal with any people I don’t want to. I can just exist as me. I love home.

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