Therapy: The Good, the Bad, the Ugly. Most Importantly... The Truth

Going to therapy is like having coffee with a good friend you haven’t seen in a long time. You talk, you discuss real-life issues. You spill your heart and something about the sanctity of the coffee represents the “this stays between us” moment. Once you’re done sipping your last bit, it’s time to say goodbye. Once you leave, you smile because your heart feels lighter, but in reality you wish it would never end. That’s what therapy is like for me. It’s nice to know that every Friday at 11, I have someone to talk to. It’s nice to know that I have one thing to depend on each week. But the hardest part is knowing that once I step out of the office, I am out of sight, out of mind.

You can’t expect them to genuinely care; you’re nothing but another number, a time slot once the hour ends. They move onto the next person, and move on with their day.

It’s not fair to expect or want them to take work home. After all, you are work. You pay them to listen to you. Now, come to think about it, I say this as I giggle, but it’s kinda like prostitution… You pay someone out of desperation for another human's services (hahaha).

But it’s hard being able to trust someone and know that contact ends after the session is over. They give you the number to the office and tell you to call if you need anything. Sometimes you just need a hug, but you can’t get that by calling the office number and leaving them a message. Your therapist won't typically add you on Facebook, or text you to tell you to have a good day. Though it would be nice, some places strictly forbid it—not all, and sometimes they make it a personal preference, but more times than not, I’m sure it’s a hard limit.

In person, I’ve been known to be able to look someone in the face and tell them I’m doing OK when I’m really not. Suicide or other awful things could be riding on my horizon, but because I’m a great actress, nobody ever knows. But if you text me, I’ll tell you everything and more about how I’m feeling or what I’m thinking. It’s just easier to be honest that way. However, the last person you should be lying to is your therapist. Just don’t do it... It doesn’t do either of you any good. Don’t waste their time.

I remember growing up hearing about people who consider their therapist a good friend. I can relate… I literally could not have asked for a better person to come into my life at this point. She’s just great. And that really is an understatement.

I’m just being completely honest here, so that if you’ve never been in therapy, you know what to expect for the long-term. But one thing I’d like you to take away from this is that despite the person-limits they hold, it still really can be helpful. It’s been very helpful to me. And, if you’re lucky enough, like I was, you’ll get someone that understands that sometimes you fall, but also knows how to help you stand again. It makes it easier to talk to someone when you don’t feel judged. I’d also like to think that there’s a much weirder, crazier patient coming in after me. Makes me laugh a little bit.

I’ve heard stories of people who work with mental patient. Though it seems like a very draining career, it’s something that interests me. I like to know how the brain works, and eventually that’s what I see myself doing as a career. As much as my therapist is learning about me, I’m learning from her. She doesn’t doubt my intelligence, and that’s a first for me. Most people considered me the “dumb one.” But what they didn’t understand is that I excelled at anything related to psychology or English. Maybe someday I’ll be able to incorporate the two. That’s why I’m so honest on my blog, because some subjects people are afraid or embarrassed to discuss or write about. Not me; I am fearless when my words are in text. True story, bro.