Talking About Therapy
By Madeline Wujek
I would self-describe as a go-getter. I am always moving, always finding a new project to work on or a new way to direct my attention and efforts. For a time, I was successful at every task I put my mind to (and there were many), and by all appearances, I was happy. I had it all, I was getting it done, and I was living the dream. In reality, though, I was obsessed with perception, hyper-fixated on my own personal mass production; I had too much to do and tried with all my might to keep up the façade that I was handling everything with grace and exceeding standards that, in actuality, no one was holding me to.
It will come as no surprise that I was not handling things well. I was either sleeping far too much or not at all, any semblance of a real meal was essentially indigestible, and all my favorite little things dulled and seemed pointless. I cried almost every day over little things, or in some cases, absolutely nothing. This lasted for months, and still, therapy never crossed my mind. It took the firm but loving encouragement of my roommate Grace to finally realize that this would never be something I could fix on my own; if I wanted to start living life again, I had to get help.
For a long time, therapy was the most terrifying thing in the world to me. The thought of acknowledging my own feelings in front of a stranger for a set amount of time at a regular interval was the least appealing way I could think of spending my time. Starting really is the hardest part. Even if you desperately want to go, and even if you know you need it, there are a lot of logistical factors that go into starting therapy.
The first thing I did was talk to my parents. I am lucky to have incredibly loving and supportive parents, but my mental health was not something I wanted to explicitly discuss with them. They were very understanding of that and never pushed me; they simply helped me work through understanding our insurance policy and identifying practices in the area that were in our network. Thus, my first piece of advice would be to work to understand your insurance policy. This can be done through your own research or through a parent or other trusted family member if this is not something you’re able to bring yourself to do at the moment.
Next, schedule a few phone calls with therapists that seem like a good fit. Finding them is relatively easy—a simple Google search of “therapists near me” will yield hundreds of results, and you can read their biographies and search for their specific areas of interest or expertise. Qualifications are important as well, but a 10 to 15-minute phone call is a great way to tell if a therapist is a good fit for you.
Finally, I found an hour of time each week when I consistently had nothing to do. When I first started going to therapy, I managed to get myself out the door and into that office because I simply had nothing else going on every Wednesday afternoon. This is enough of a reason to go. I didn’t want to start, but I managed to activate that little voice in the back of my head that would ask “What else do you have to do right now?” The voice was always right, and I would always go. Adopting the mindset that simply going was good enough.
Accepting and acknowledging you need help can be difficult; if you’re anything like me, this feels like admitting defeat. It feels like publicly claiming your own coping mechanisms are falling short and that you cannot manufacture new ones. It feels like your problems aren’t your own anymore simply because you can’t handle them completely alone. As humans, we are naturally territorial, even over our struggles. It can be a vulnerable experience when someone stops to help us carry our load, and this can make us feel weak, exposed, and incapable.
However, none of that is true. Instead of being met with shame and failure, I felt supported even when I didn’t feel better. I experienced support in ways I never had before from friends and family, and that was enough to make the vulnerability worth it. Healing is not a linear process. I have learned what I need to prioritize and manage my mental health, and I have found tangible steps to implement these things into my life.
I really listen to myself now. I don’t spread myself too thin or hold myself to unrealistic standards. I don’t apologize for having an off day, and I don’t feel the need to make everything I do appear seamless.
I still don’t have it all the way together, though. While going to therapy didn’t immediately solve my problems, it gave me the tools to chip away at them. I’ve learned a lot about myself. I have a lot to learn, and I am grateful for the people around me who encouraged me to take this leap.
Asking for help is a sign of strength. I am thankful for the opportunities I have been given through therapy to work through my experiences and begin fully living life again.
