For years, I thought going to therapy meant something was wrong with me. Now, I know it means I care about getting to know myself.
Therapy is one of those concepts that will always have a bit of a negative stigma surrounding it. I started going during my sophomore or junior year of high school, when my parents were in the middle of their divorce, still fighting for custody over me at 16 years old.
In the midst of all the drama, my dad and I got into a fight, and I’ll never forget admitting to him that I was going to therapy. I knew he’d overreact, and he did. “Why do you need to go to therapy when you have me? I’m your dad. You can tell me anything.” But Dad, sadly, that’s not the point.
Seen at the surface level, it might seem like therapy is just an outlet — a place to tell someone any of the thoughts that dig deep into your mind. Therapy offers space for healing and acceptance, providing much more than just an outlet. It allows us to work through these things that take up space in our minds. To process our emotions. To have a place to lay our whole self on the line.
I’m on my fourth therapist now. I started seeing a new one this school year after taking about a year-long break. If you ask me now, I don’t think the self-instilled hiatus was a good idea. My old therapist said I’d worked through everything and was “good.” Did I believe her? Not really. Did I want to? Absolutely.
So I took a break and tried to work on myself, alone.
Except that’s the hard part: doing it alone. I realized that even though I understood myself better, I was still hurting. When I finally went back after all this time, I could tell I’d been holding myself back from real progress.
This all goes to say that I feel like I have been around the block with therapy. Universally so, I know that finding a therapist is not easy. My first one was my favorite human being ever, and we were so alike. When she went into private practice, I couldn’t afford it anymore. Then, while I was attending college at FSU, during the most depressive period of my life, I saw a therapist who was too much like my mother — a circumstance that just wouldn’t work for me. After that, I tried seeing another one, a middle-aged southern lady, but I found that she never really dug deep enough; she didn’t ask me the questions I knew I needed. In her lack thereof, she’d think everything was ok. Well, everything wasn’t ok.
Now I go in person, 10 minutes down the road from my apartment, to The Meaningful Life Center. It’s here that I finally found a therapist who truly cares once again, one who sincerely works to connect with me. Did it take me a lot of trial and error? For sure. But, it was a heck of a lot worth it.
There will always be people who look down on therapy or make you feel embarrassed for going. Usually, those are the ones who are too afraid to admit they might need it themselves. If you can tell yourself you want to go, that’s a powerful, brave step.
Now that I am older, a lot of my friends and I freely talk about our therapists, and I watch how therapy not only helps me but also helps them. Just the other day, my friend and I were recounting therapy appointments and how our therapist told us similar things. It’s in moments like these that therapy helps bridge connections with those around us.
Through my therapy and through life’s ups and downs, I’ve gotten to know myself pretty well. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop going. I truly believe one of the reasons I’m on this earth is to understand myself, to figure out why I feel and think certain ways. Therapy helps me do that.
Whenever you feel embarrassed or scared to take that step, know you’re not alone. Whether it’s your friends or even me, someone’s been there. I know it’s scary, but don’t you want to get to know yourself a little bit more?