The C Word
Since a young age, I have always been uneasy when the word “counseling” was spoken. As a child whose parents often fought, I always thought that there was a negative connotation around counseling — whether it be for married couples, families, or children. Counseling meant something was wrong. I even remember after my parents got divorced teachers would come up to me at lunch encouraging that I go talk to someone. It made me feel isolated. I didn’t understand how talking to a stranger about my problems would solve anything. Did anyone else my age have to go to counseling sessions or was it just me?
The thing about counseling is you must want to go to see any improvement. If you are forced to go you may feel like you’re abnormal and problematic. At least that is how I feel about it. Maybe it was the stigma around mental health that made me feel this way. I was just a child, but I was already embarrassed about what people would think if they heard that I needed counseling for my mental health. I was expected to be this ecstatic child right after my parents split. Was it unreasonable to just be my moody 10-year-old self? It’s okay to not be okay sometimes.
I remember when my new step-mom came into my life and said I needed to smile more and get counseling. Whenever she said that I would sarcastically put on a wide, cheesy grin in response. Little did she know she was a large culprit for my unhappiness.
So, when I was assigned to immerse myself in an uncomfortable experience, I thought to go to a counseling session, for the first time in years, would be a blast from the past. I decided to schedule an appointment with CAPS on campus because it is a free resource for FGCU students. With the holiday season approaching they were fully booked but thankfully they had a cancellation and could squeeze me in.
The front desk informed me that the first session could take up to an hour and a half so the counselor could get to know me. I requested a female counselor because I know I would be more at ease and open with her than a male.
Walking to CAPS on the day of my appointment made me feel anxious and brought back memories of the past. What would we talk about? Would she make judgments about me and gossip to her co-workers? My mind was freaking out. I climbed the stairs to the third floor of the new mental health building. As I sat in the waiting area, my leg bounced up and down, which meant I was nervous. Another girl sat next to me gazing at her phone.
I’m greeted by a woman who I can only describe as having kind eyes. Immediately, my shoulders are less tense and I’m not as jittery. As I sit in her office, we talk a little about who we are, and it is already so different than how I remember it being as a child. It feels like I’m talking to an old friend. Going into this session I was not expecting to get much out of it, but I actually opened up a lot more than I have with anyone in a while. I talked about the stresses of my future and my complicated relationship with my dad. Talking to her, someone who doesn’t take sides in stories but just listens to me and poses solutions, was refreshing and new. She opened my eyes to new perspectives. Soon the weight I didn’t realize that was on my shoulders eased up little by little. Progress. I should’ve done this a lot earlier, I thought.
I’ve realized many people think that you must be happy all the time and that it’s not okay to have your bad days. I previously thought there was no benefit to counseling, but because I did it for myself this time, I feel freer from life’s burdens. Sometimes it’s not easy to talk to your loved ones about your struggles because we are taught that these are weaknesses and we are afraid of judgment. But if you’re talking to the right person you can let down your wall of perfection and just be the imperfect you that is real and has problems. Maybe soon we’ll be able to be emotionally vulnerable in society as well, so we don’t have to put on our fake happy face to please others.
As I walk out of her office, she says to please come and talk with her again, and she means it. Maybe I could learn to love the word I once hated — counseling.
