Guest Blog: Therapy Is by Tracy Irvine
Therapy is…
exhausting, helpful, wonderful, frustrating, all of the above and then some.
I just started working with a new therapist in the past month and the difference between the old and new is like night and day. My session with the previous therapist would go like this… I would see her from time to time, complain about my life, my love life, and/or my job; cry a little (or a lot) and then go home. This pattern went on on for a few years but it got to the point where it wasn’t enough. In fact, I was getting much worse.
Whatever control I had on my life and myself came to a screeching halt in 2010. After a series of bad relationships, including a divorce; a job that I used to love that lost all meaning; and putting my cat to sleep after a long illness, among many, many, many other things that you will learn about later. My mind and body had had enough. I closed myself off from my friends, I became very introverted and I would spend hours upon hours staring at the television eating everything in sight or curled into a ball, sobbing. I was paralyzed.
I would make appearances at my friends gatherings but I was never really there. Everything became an effort. Then one day, after a friend’s baby shower, I was driving home on the highway. I was in my usual state of sadness when I imagined myself turning the wheel sharply to the left and crashing my car into the median. I could see the impact in slow motion, the metal of the car buckling as it smashed into the concrete. The car, as it flipped over and over while oncoming traffic swerved to avoid me. I saw myself die, instantly.
And then I took a deep breath and smiled. I felt peace… calm… serene… happy. I wouldn’t have to deal with fucking anything, anymore. I could finally be at peace. My mind could finally be silent. The feeling was so, so strong, appealing and seductive. Then in another instant, I found myself back to reality. I knew it was time to get help. I went back into therapy and I was diagnosed with depression shortly after.
It’s been almost two years, three different medications, and a new therapist later. I have my good days and my bad but I am still carrying the weight of my depression on my shoulders. The difference is that I am looking forward to getting better. I have to get better… or get through this, to say it in a more accurate way. Depression is such a dark and scary place. I never want to feel that feeling of helplessness again. Next time I feel peace and serenity, I want it to be because I am happy.
I have a lot of work to do.
Tracy has her own blog and website. Click here to visit it.
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