a year of therapy later

There seems to be a stigma with therapy — that paying for help means there’s something inherently broken with my intuitive process to cope, to express myself, and to heal on my own. Why can’t I just slap a smile on and be okay? Why are all these thoughts bouncing around? Why this. Why that. The incoherent list goes on.

People who have experienced a significant life change can attest that being stuck in your brain of swirling thoughts is an anxious roller-coaster ride. I felt trapped. I felt alone. I felt like I was drowning in a fucking puddle. I didn’t want to admit that this seemingly tiny puddle was making gigantic waves in every aspect of my life. I didn’t want to be THAT girl who couldn’t even deal. In the grand scheme of things, there are other things in life that are more tragic, more sad, and more horrible than my survivable break-up. It’s not like I was dying or something horribly life-threatening was happening to me or the people I loved (and I thank God for that every day). But, man, this fucking puddle was like a tidal wave to me. And I needed to get under it or else it was going to knock me out on my ass.

The catalyst.

The ‘internet” says that the physical feelings of loss and pain after a break-up are reminiscent of drug withdrawals — and in the deepest and saddest of nights, it felt like that. That drop in the stomach, the tight feeling in the chest, the headaches from the tears, the exhaustion from the imaginary back-and-forth conversations I had with him. It was all so draining to figure out what was right and what was wrong.

As much as I had my tribe to talk to, the fact of the matter was I just needed someone to listen— without commentary. I appreciated the advice and the support, I wouldn’t be here without my family and friends. But, the words of wisdom from people “who have gone through the exact same thing” were lost on me — I kind of hated that. No, it wasn’t the same. No, you don’t know. I was defensive. I didn’t want to hear what they had to say. I just wanted someone to let me talk in circles.

The details of the break-up won’t be discussed here since that’s between me and him (and now my therapist), but the break-up was a huge crack in the foundation of what I knew. It uncovered a lot of stuff that I needed to work on and to deal with. It just shook me. I needed professional help.

These are the two biggest lessons I learned from therapy.

It’s okay to be sad, that doesn’t make me weak.

If you know me, I am a genuinely happy person — I am the person in the room usually laughing and making jokes. Smiling is my favorite. So, there’s this pre-conceived notion that I made up in head that not being happy is weak. I rationalize why I am sad, I analyze the fuck out of it, and I do things that make me feel happy to make it go away ASAP. But, it’s kind of like slapping a band-aid on a gaping wound. It’s going to keep bleeding until it fucking heals. And as I kept rambling on to my therapist looking for some sort of quick magical fix to move on — she told me that it was okay to be sad. In fact, it’s more important to feel sad…and to be sad. I don’t need to fight it. I don’t need to make it go away. It’s okay to cry. It’s okay to feel off. Sadness is temporary. Once that feeling settled in — I realized I was okay. This low is bearable. It takes a few stumbles and falls to finally accept that sadness is part of the process. And because of those sad moments, I got strength and perspective I never knew I had.

I cannot change things that are out of my control.

The past. The future. Him. The only thing I can control is…me. That’s it. Let go of what I think I knew, what I think needs to happen, and what I wish he could be. I worried a lot about what had transpired between us and what “us” could mean in the future — and I was anxiously waiting for change to come in the form of a better version of him. But, as my therapist put it so eloquently — if you focus on you, your needs, and your self-growth, you will be surprised at the way things will begin to change around you. And again, “putting myself first” took a while for me to understand because I didn’t realize I wasn’t doing that. When change happens, I tend to cling to the things I already know, but what I need to realize is that there’s a whole world waiting to cling onto me. I lost a big chunk of my personal and social life and was left with a stripped version of myself — I couldn’t even describe who I was without him. What are my passions? What are my goals? What do I enjoy? It’s a mind fuck to start from zero, but this empty space can be empowering and liberating if I let it. This empty space isn’t empty. It’s the exact space I needed to grow.

A year later.

I can 1000% say that therapy helped me tremendously — I am in a way better place than I ever could be had I dealt with my break-up (and all the insecurities and emotions that come with it) alone. I must caveat that I can only speak about my experience, but I am an advocate for therapy and I’m happy to chat more about it with anyone who’s interested. There’s no shame in admitting that one needs help — no matter how tiny the puddle seems to be.

*this is essay 4 of many. join me every Sunday (or so) for a new one. tata.