When I was in the 7th grade I knew something was different about me. Something set me apart from my other peers. I wasn’t sure what that was exactly, and I actually didn’t really notice until I started down a really difficult path full of darkness and painful coping mechanisms. Eventually, I landed myself a spot in therapy.
When I was in middle school all I wanted to do was go from class to class so I could go home at the end of the day and shovel an entire sleeve of Oreo’s into my mouth with a huge glass of milk. Never did I expect to have to go see someone I barely know to talk about problems I never want to discuss so I can get a prescription for an illness I may or may not actually have. I dreaded it in all honesty. I wasn’t sure what I would be needed to do or even how to handle the concept of therapy.
I kept it hidden. I never wanted anyone to know that I needed “help.” My peers already thought I was absolutely insane, if they found out that I went to therapy I’d be finished. I thought to myself “I’ll have to dye my hair and move schools. I’ll pick a new name for myself and live under a nice bridge. I have to tell my family I love them!” Fortunately for me, however, no one ever found out. At least not until I got out of middle school…
The only reason people found out was because I’d been seeing my counselor for a couple of years. I felt really close to him and I was able to open myself up and talk to him about anything and everything. I learned a lot about myself in therapy, but there were a number of defining moments that need to be shared along with my overall experience. The first moment was in the 10th grade.
When I started counseling I didn’t know anything was really “wrong” with me per say, I just knew I was different. When I became old enough to start doing my own research into my condition I started doing it immediately. I looked at articles and facts and everything and I concluded that I had Type II Bipolar Disorder. My counselor and I talked it over and he agreed. He sent me away one day to see a Psychiatrist so he could prescribe the medicine he thought would be good for me. Side note: I’ve been on the same drug since I was 15 (I am now 23) and it still works wonders. Also here’s a big disclaimer: Self-diagnosis is not practical. Don’t do it.
The second moment came in the 12th grade; my senior year. I’d been telling my friends about my counselor and a bunch of them have been complimenting me on how much “better” I’d been. They must have meant how much more control I had over my emotions. I gave a majority of the credit to my counselor because he really helped me when I needed it. My friends then came with me to one of my sessions so they could meet this man. They wanted to meet a complete stranger so they could thank him and understand what I go through on a weekly basis. Two different worlds met that day and they merged together and neither party knows just how much that meant to 18-year-old me.
Now, my overall experience with counseling is nothing short of fantastic. I’ve seen the same counselor for 10 years. We worked on coping strategies and thought processes and all the technical self-help methods, but what they don’t tell you about therapy is that you meet someone that you can trust with everything. Someone you can pour everything into and watch them light up as you trust them more and more. It can take time to find the perfect fit because only you know who the perfect fit for you is.
Therapy is not going into a muggy office with dim lighting and a beat-up old couch. You don’t lay down on the couch and start with that ever-so-enticing “it all started when I was little” line that they display on television shows. You learn important details about yourself. You really get to know yourself better with every session you attend. You figure out what takes you into negative states and how to get out of them. You learn how to be comfortable with yourself.
You go in on your first day nervous and with sweat palms. You grab at your shirt and you can feel yourself becoming more and more anxious as the first session approaches. However, when you get into the area you realize it’s not so bad. In fact, it’s not bad at all. You’ll be nervous at first and it’s completely understandable, but when you start talking you won’t want to stop. It feels incredible to be able to just let your problems leave your body and have someone listen. It’s important to have someone who understands – someone who empathizes with you. Getting help is so important and counseling will help. It makes a world of difference, I promise.
Counseling has been a huge part of my life. Such a big part, actually, that I want to become a counselor. It’s intimidating and emotionally draining at times. It requires a lot of work and dedication. You have to want to get help in order to really receive help. You get someone you can trust. You get a safe-room environment that allows you to open up the deepest parts of yourself. You get so much more than just an office with four walls and an hour of venting.
Counseling changed my life. While it was intimidating at first, I wouldn’t have it any other way. Ask for help. Don’t be ashamed of it. It’s an amazing experience. What sits with me most from counseling is that I learned to love myself. I love myself and will always love myself, and that will never change.
