I went to therapy for the first time in sixth grade, and it helped tremendously. But, come junior year of high school, I realized just how much I needed therapy again. I felt weird. I was mentally and physically exhausted. I wasn’t sleeping much and was generally just not happy. My mom wasn’t supportive about me going back to therapy and insisted that my general unhappiness was simply a result of a boyfriend at the time.
When that relationship had come to an end and I was still unhappy, I kept asking my mom if I could go back to therapy, and again the answer was no. Hispanic culture is not too accepting of mental health issues, which is a whole other issue that I won’t touch on right now. But, the point being that my mom isn’t horrible for not allowing me to go back to therapy: it was a cultural thing that I don’t hold against her.
I started going to therapy soon after a panic attack I had in front of my sister, who explained to my mother just how serious those are. I was soon diagnosed with general anxiety and major depression. Getting a diagnosis was both a relief and a struggle, and one of the first obstacles I had to jump over when I started therapy.
I would go to weekly sessions every Thursday at 2pm. I quickly started looking forward to it. In the midst of my busy schedule, I would be able to go for an hour and have time for myself, devoted to feeling better. I felt as though I had a safe space where I could cry if I wanted to, and I had someone to talk to without judgements. While I have friends who gladly listen to me and offer their support, having a licensed professional serve as an unbiased outsider is a different kind of help.
During my therapy sessions I was able to learn healthy communication and coping skills, and was able to receive the reassurance I didn’t know I needed. I have always had a support system, but going to therapy helped me identify my support a little bit more. I was able to talk through my issues out loud with someone I trusted and in a judgement free environment. I learned so much about myself and about people. I had also learned to be more forgiving of myself and finally started raising my self-esteem that was so badly needed.
While my Hispanic parents were not too happy with the idea of me going to therapy at first, they have grown to accept it and are happy I was able to get the help I needed. I have been going to therapy for a year and three months now, and I can wholeheartedly say it was the best decision I ever made. I continue to see my therapist through video chat even though her office is back home. While my depression, anxiety, and ability to function well overall have gotten so much better, there is still room to grow. I am a firm believer of therapy being something anyone can benefit from, even if you don’t have a mental illness. Stress is a common thing everyone struggles with, and anyone could benefit from learning healthy coping and communication skills as well as from having a place to go to unload for even an hour once a week.
To anyone that has struggled or is struggling with a mental illness, I won’t leave you with the cliché, “it will get better,” though it does. Instead, I will leave you with a more honest version of that. The journey to getting better is a tough one: there will be many times that you’ll wonder if it’s even possible. There will be tears and there will be bad days. But, there will also be good days and though you might not always see it, there is indeed progress being made. Know that you are never alone and as my therapist has told me many times, “a mental illness isn’t who you are. It is something that is happening to you that makes things more difficult, but you are so much more than that.”