How Therapy Made Me Even More Angry
Therapy can be amazing, but it can also make you realize things about your life that you were not ready for.
As a child I went to therapy a couple times, as I was dealing with night terrors and anxiety. When I was old enough to go to school, my parents no longer organised these sessions and I stopped going.
Lets just say a lot changed when I was a teenager.
Not only was there normal school anxiety, but I had major surgery, I lost a good portion of my friends, my ex boyfriend cheated on me, my mom was dealing with depression, and I was trying to get into university.
The worst part of all was my mom’s depression. I had trouble studying because all I would hear was weeping from the other room for hours on end. She had no energy to make dinner or go grocery shopping, so I was in charge of that. My dad was always tucked away in his room doing his work waiting for food to pop up on the table. It was in my hands to do the cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping.
Did I ever hear a thank you? Rarely. Their favorite line was “this is your job, you are our child and a part of this household.” If I wanted a warm bed to sleep in, this was what I had to do.
“This is your job, you are our child and a part of this household”
Going out with friends was almost never an option. I always had chores to do first. I stopped getting invited to parties because everyone knew I could not attend. My friends started to know me as ‘the girl with the crazy parents’. They would always ask “oh are they super religious?” and almost bragging I would respond “Nope, atheist. Surprising right?”
Nevertheless, it was hard. But because I had no choice but to keep going, I never really thought about it. Until I went to therapy.
Therapy
Therapy ended up opening my eyes to the world outside of my painful circle.
The first day of therapy my therapist told me that sometimes people feel worse at first and then slowly deal with these feelings. I knew that obviously it’s not fun to talk about painful things so this was to be expected.
The first session was somewhat strange and more of a ‘get to know you’ session. I was fresh out of first year of university and on summer vacation. I had started working 2 jobs at this time. I worked a total of around 60 hours a week. On top of this I was going to these sessions, going to the gym, doing groceries, and cooking and cleaning. She said that I must be overwhelmed, and I agreed.
The next session was where the water works came out. I started balling my eyes out, talking about my issues with my parents. I think I talked for the whole hour and the woman didn’t even get a word in.
After this, the sessions are all a blur. She tended to agree with me on most fronts. I would explain to her the things my parents said to me as I started making note of them on my phone. She clearly felt terrible for me. A kid who just wants to please their parents and make everyone happy being used like Cinderella — funny thing, my mom called me Cinderella sometimes.
My therapist reminded me to do things that I like to do, but I couldn’t remember what these were anymore. My entire life was filled with must-do’s. I did not have time to do things that I liked. After each session my resentment towards my parents grew more and more as I realized how much I missed out on, how they took away my passion.
One day I had just come home from job A and had an hour before going to job B and I was starving. I needed to eat something fast. I went to use the stove to cook some pasta and explained to my parents that I only had an hour so I was wondering if it was ok to use the stove to cook food for myself. The answer was no. Either I cooked for everyone or I didn’t eat. I was furious and upset. I started begging. “Please, i’m so hungry and I have to go to work, it will only take 10 minutes”. My dad responded with “No. Your rent for the oven has run out” I looked at my mother with tears in my eyes waiting for her to save me. It didn’t help, I was staring into cold eyes. I did not eat that entire day. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
“No. Your rent for the oven has run out”
I was smart enough to hit record on my phone on the middle of that conversation and I ended up sending it to my therapist. She was horrified and emailed me often to check if I was ok.
I ran away from home for 2 weeks. I went to my best friend’s house where they treated me like a human. They respected me and cared for me more than anyone ever had. If it hadn’t been for this friend and her family I would have never known what it felt like to be cared for.
I finally came home, but with demands. I was not going to let them treat me like a slave anymore and I wanted to be free to do what I wanted. They treated me much better, but it was out of fear that I would leave forever. I guess this fear was justified, as I booked a one way ticket to London. Within the next three months I changed my entire life. I was supposed to be attending university, instead I was travelling around Europe all alone. I moved to France, found a job, an apartment, got health care and a social security number, made new friends, and left my entire life behind.
The point of the story is — therapy might not do to you what you expect. I am not saying therapy is unhelpful, but be prepared for emotions to bubble up to the surface. Therapy can create a new, uncomfortable awareness of your life.
