I would like to preface by saying I am not a mental health or therapy expert. I am a twenty-one-year-old history major. All of what is in this article I have gained from real-life experiences. It is critical to acknowledge that no one person’s experience defines a group of people.
That being said the stigma behind mental health is deeply embedded into our society. The old tale goes, those who struggle with mental health are inferior to those non-cognitively challenged. I was unfortunately one of those ignorant fools who was guilty of believing that. I never looked down upon any of my friends who were currently in therapy or working through mental health issues, but I had this thought that if I ever wanted to pursue therapy, I would be less than everyone. I believe this is a result of outside factors and embedded stigmas.
I have always had anxiety and ADD, but I was able to work through that with the help of therapy and tutoring. I was very young when I went to therapy for these issues, therefore, I did not have much of a memory around it. As I grew older, my own experience with therapy faded, and the stigma behind mental health and therapy grew more prominent in my mind. I believed that I was the one of my friends to be emotionally secure and would never need therapy, Again, I never thought anything less of them for attending therapy. I simply held myself to a double standard. Deep down, I knew that I certainly was not as happy as I could have been. Everything became painfully clear this past summer.
In early spring of this year, I underwent a very trying time for the first time in my life. I experienced a very difficult breakup. I did not know how reliant I was on this individual until they were abruptly removed from my life. It had ended on good terms, but my emotional state was certainly damaged. Ironically enough, this breakup occurred during the brink of the pandemic. Not only was I newly single, but I was truly isolated from the world. At first, I attempted to get by on my own. I listened to podcasts, painted, baked bread, and did everything imaginable, except address my emotions. The further into the pandemic, the stronger my sadness grew. I finally told my mom how I was feeling, and without hesitation, she recommended I go to therapy. I winced at this request. I was not the person who felt therapy was necessary, but nonetheless, I decided to give it a try.
On the eve of my first appointment, I was incredibly anxious. I did not like talking about my emotions. I was always the person people went to for help, and I never needed it. That night, I realized that in reality, I had always needed help, and I was just too afraid to ask as a result of societal expectations and stigmas. I attended my first session, and it was almost as if it were night and day. I felt as though a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders. I sobbed, laughed, and was angry, all in a matter of 45 minutes. After a handful of sessions, my therapy told me that I had developed codependency toward this individual who had broken my heart. That is why my anxiety flared and I felt so helpless without them. The fact that there was a name for what I had was also so comforting. Knowing that I was not the only one in this world to experience this emotion was also enlightening. There are others out there like me. I am not alone.
I still continue to go to therapy to this day. I attend a session once a week. I wish I had gone sooner because I cannot express the difference in my mindset and my emotional state since having started therapy. I want to put out a message to everyone who feels too embarrassed or ashamed to attend therapy. Don’t. It may seem like all is hopeless, but there are people out there who can help. Do not ever be ashamed for asking for help. It is the bravest and most courageous thing one can do. My dream is that the stigma behind mental health and therapy will be diminished from our society. I know this is a longshot, but I have hope for the next generation.