Therapy and Becoming Who I’m Meant to Be

Talk therapy is a big part of my treatment plan.  I can’t go without it.  I know medication is a necessity for me, but I need my therapist.  I need cognitive behavioral techniques, and I need coping skills.  It’s a struggle for me to simply function some days.  Lots of days. 

Every time I leave my therapist, I feel so much lighter.  He is amazing.  I don’t know how he does it, but he seems to know the exact right thing to say, the thing for me to think about, to feel better.  I could never do this on my own. 

My mind is often cluttered.  Cluttered to full capacity.  And with negativity.  It’s hard for me to focus on the positive, to not dwell on the past or worry about the future.  My therapist provides me with techniques to help with this.  I wish I didn’t have to work so hard at it, but I do.  I know I do.  And it’s doable.  It often feels impossible, and I want to give up.  He gives me hope. 

I have insecurities in every aspect of my life.  These are tied to my depression and anxiety, with one leading into the other, securing the vicious cycle.  It’s hard to break free.  That’s why cognitive behavioral therapy is so important.  Reading success stories of other people who have overcome this helps me, too, and gives me hope. 

I worry about my marriage.  I feel insecure.  I worry Andy will stop loving me and stop wanting to be with someone mentally ill.  I’ve always been insecure about my looks, and this feeds into my marital insecurities.  I worry about my kids.  That I’m not a good mom.  That they deserve better.  That they shouldn’t have to have a mom who is mentally ill.  I worry about my job.  I worry about what other people think.  All of this becomes too much for me at times, with the anxiety and depression snowballing, rolling around with the intrusive, obsessive thoughts in my brain, and I just cry.  Then I can’t stop.  Then I feel hopeless, like this will never get better, thinking all I do is ruin everyone’s life.  Thinking everyone would be better off without me.  This is when I make a therapy appointment.  I need them regularly. 

He makes me see that I’m not as crazy as I think I am.  That everyone has thoughts and feelings I have, mine are just severe, to the point that they interfere with my life and I need to really work and really try to control them.  It’s so not easy.  It’s frustrating.  It’s especially frustrating when I can feel that my medication is not working, making the uphill battle even steeper.  I just can’t give up.  I know I feel better when I see my therapist, and it’s something I really look forward to.  It eases my mind and gives me positives to focus on and to work on. 

I hate that I’m so needy, that I require so much reassurance, that I feel like such a burden to everyone.  I don’t want to be this way.  I am, though, and I keep hoping that if I work on myself, I’ll, with the help of a lifetime of therapy, become the best version of me.


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