the impact of therapy (on me)

Happy Tuesday! I’d like to kick off our new series, “The Impact of…” with a personal experience of going to therapy. I’m very grateful that my family can afford therapy, as I know the cost is a big holdback when people are seeking help and I’m thankful that I was able to find an awesome therapist who fit my needs. I’ve also been going to therapy once every other week for about two months now.

First off, this hasn’t been my first encounter with therapy- I went to a personal counselor in seventh grade (2017-2018), but she was a family friend and stopped seeing personal acquaintances in 2018. I guess mentally, things hadn’t really gotten to the point that I felt that I needed to see someone until July or August of quarantine. I was having really terrible mood swings (I’m blaming hormones mainly for this) and just had some really tough moments. I actually had an appointment with another therapist, but it fell through due to technology problems, so I ended up having my very first therapy appointment with this therapist in mid-October. I was pretty anxious leading up to the call and had my ice water (something that I like to have if I’m crying, which can be very often :) and some tissues on hand.

Once we moved past the “How are you?” stage of things, I was able to open up very easily- though I don’t know if this is because I had a lot of things I needed to get out or because I tend to be pretty open or because I was overwhelmed. To be honest, it felt really good to get seven or eight months’ worth of frustrations and anger and grief off of my chest and into the open. As I’m writing this, there’s something that my dad told me often, especially in the beginning of quarantine- that I (and many others) were grieving a lot and that we needed to let ourselves process that grief and allow ourselves to not be ok. There was just so, so much that was happening that it was hard for me to grieve one thing before something else got cancelled or postponed. Even as I moved past that first wave of shock and sadness, it felt like there was always something else that was happening that I needed to make room for in the crowded room of what I’m passionate about. Eventually, it all built up and became this enormous burden that I had no idea of how to release myself from or even just walk away from it.

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Having the opportunity to go to therapy came at the end of the storm, like some human form of a rainbow. It was such a game-changer to know that I would have someone to rant and rave about anything that was bothering me and not have to worry that I was over-sharing or too much or that my therapist wouldn’t be there for me anymore. I also feel like my insecurities about my physical appearance have really grown during quarantine, whether that’s due to being able to stare at myself 24/7 or constantly seeing what I look like during classes and calls, so that’s what we talked about on my last appointment. She gave me some great tips and although it’s been hard to constantly feel like I’m rewiring my brain, they’ve been very beneficial.

I‘ve had numerous appointments since that initial one, and it seems like every appointment there’s something new that I’ve been struggling with or feel like I haven’t “grieved” properly. My therapist has given me some helpful tips to boost my productivity or the negative self-talk that seems to be never-ending or learning how to set boundaries when I know the outcome won’t be good. I’m very honestly so proud of myself for how much my mental health has changed within a span of a couple months and how I’m able to be a little bit more ok with not being able to interact with my peers and friends- especially since I am a raving extrovert. Even though there are still days when I can’t look in the mirror without nitpicking what I look like or days when all I want to do is cry, I’m proud of myself for improving my health through the means of therapy.