Dread: The First Time I Went to Therapy
Mental health awareness is on the rise. People are finally realizing the importance of curing their past to create a better future. It is so apparent to me now that everyone should experience therapy at least once, just to see how it feels. I personally haven’t experienced anything like it anywhere else.
Personal History
On Christmas day, last year, my family and I decided to start a tradition for the new year. My dad had heard about another family crowdsourcing each other’s New Year’s resolutions. What that meant was that we, as a family, decided the New Year’s resolution of each family member, but had no say over our own. With that, my parents, sister, brother-in-law, and wife sent me out of the room so they could decide my fate for 2023.
I’m sure by the title of this article you might guess what ended up happening, but you’d be just a little off. The goal of the year wasn’t just to attend therapy, it was to fix my stomach problems. From a young age, I’ve had pretty severe problems with my digestion, keeping me from being able to be too far away from the bathroom. For a while, we tried different diets, going to different doctors, and eliminating different foods, but nothing seemed to work. Through it all, I was afraid to be far from the bathroom and had a constant tummy ache. A nutritionist fixed a few things that were going awry, but the overarching symptoms persisted. Finally, I suggested it may be psychological. My family and I all saw this as a reach. We did not yet know about the ties between the gut and the brain (they are very connected), but in the winter of 2023, we decided to reach out to a therapist.
Fear Of Doctors
It may be pertinent to note here that I am absolutely petrified of all doctors. I can survive the dentist, but anytime a needle or anything more invasive than a stethoscope is involved I freak out. I hate sitting in the doctor’s waiting room, being ushered back to an exam room, and waiting there, my sense of dread building with every minute that passes. It freaks me out. I have convinced myself that everything in my body is perfectly functioning. No matter my pain level, it will work itself out. I don’t need somebody poking around in there.
What I Expected
I’m not sure what I expected, to be perfectly honest my thoughts on the subject were seriously clouded by feelings of dread and anxiousness. My greatest fear, although not based in reality, was that my therapist would bewitch me and make me spill all my secrets and fears, interrogate me bringing up painful memories, and then somehow blame it all on my past or my parents. I didn’t want to be laughed at for my experiences or symptoms. I feared that I would go through this great discomfort and gain no insight or solutions from it. Maybe therapy would change me in a way that: A. I didn’t like or B. My family didn’t like it. I didn’t want to be dependent on another person for a solution to my stomach problem. I felt like a “feelings-based” solution wasn’t real enough. I wanted it to be concrete, based on biology, so that it didn’t require any work or constant care from me.
What I Got
I walked up the stairs in a building of office suites, feeling the whole time like I should bolt right back down to the lobby bathroom and hide my fear, but I grit my teeth, took a deep breath, and kept walking. It was hard going to an unknown place to meet an unknown therapist so she could capture and analyze my innermost fears and thoughts, but I owed my family. I had spent hours of their time making them wait on my frequent bathroom stops, tailoring meals to meet my dietary needs, and depriving them of my awesome presence on family hikes. I owed it to them to try at least one session. I made it to the room, a quiet private office, complete with a white noise machine, spacious couch, and warm lighting. It definitely did not live up to the single swinging lightbulb and a plastic chair that I had pictured in my head. I took a seat on her couch, and she asked me “So why are you here?” She already knew the answer. I gave her that much and more in the very long patient intake form. I answered, and after that, we just had a normal conversation. We talked about my stomach problems and anxiety, but she talked about herself too, sharing her life so that there was an equal exchange of vulnerabilities. It felt amazing just to be able to say exactly how I was feeling, without having to rationalize or defend, being able to express every emotion no matter how small. I felt like I was carrying a very tall stack of fine china above my head, and I finally got to set it down and take a few of the plates off of my pile, letting them float away down my stream of consciousness into oblivion.
What I Learned
I learned that at least 70% of my stomach problems originated in my head and how to stop that process before it starts. I learned how to recognize what triggers those processes in my head and how to overcome them. I realized that therapy can be a more “concrete” science and that it’s the least invasive form of medical care. It feels really good to have a conversation with an unbiased third party that wants the best for you and is required by law to keep your secrets. I learned that problems are only as real as you make them. Time heals all wounds, therapy makes sure they don’t scar.
How It Helped At The Start
After that first session, I got homework to meditate with my legs raised and my hand on my stomach. It of course helped. Being able to offload my anxieties onto someone else who I knew wouldn’t be weighed down by them was honestly helpful enough to start the stomach healing process. Those first few sessions were me trying to explain my experiences and talking about why I didn’t like them. Then my therapist would help me brainstorm how to make those experiences better. Without the extra stress I was causing myself, I had the confidence to go on longer and longer hikes and eat whatever was available, and my guts slowly got better, too. Everything felt more attainable.
How It Helps Now
In recent news I’ve been feeling a lot better. When I go to therapy now, (less often) it feels more like a tune-up. A check-in just to make sure the Jack Whitlock machine is firing on all cylinders. It feels like a really nice haircut or a massage. It just feels good to let go of my frustrations about more recent experiences and become more streamlined again towards my goals. It’s more of a life-coaching session now. Less about the past, more about the great big beautiful tomorrow.
Moral of the Story
If you are reading this because you have never been to therapy, and you are interested. Do it. I promise it will only help your situation, but also be warned, therapy requires you to participate and drudge up your anchors, anything that’s keeping you from your goal. Be prepared to feel unexpected feelings. You won’t know what is holding you down unless someone else digs it up. Also prepare for a long nap afterward. Being vulnerable is tiring. I’m sure my experience in therapy is not all that special, but if this article can get just one person to go give it a try then it was worth writing. Being vulnerable is hard, but there are some amazing people out there that desperately want to help you carry the weight of being you.
