Getting comfortable on the couch: My 20 year search for a therapist

I struggled and struggled with what to write for today. I actually had a whole other post scheduled but decided to scrap it. I was getting frustrated, the later it got, and then, saw that today is World Mental Health Day. I have a post that was published on another site last year, that is perfect for today. So, here you have it.

Today is also Thanksgiving Day in Canada, Columbus Day in many American countries, and the 100^th anniversary of the state of California giving women the right to vote. I will be discussing all of this on the FemCentral facebook page. I hope to see you there!

When I was in high school, I wanted to see a therapist; I was experiencing massive anxiety about school and relationships and it was affecting my sleep and my eating habits. There were periods when my hands would shake so much it was hard to hold a pencil or fork.  But, my parents made their thoughts on therapy very clear. The idea of telling a stranger all your secrets went against everything they believed in.  According to them, if people know things about you, no matter how mundane, they’ll use this knowledge against you. They’ll judge you. They’ll tell everyone else, and your life will be ruined.  You’ll never get into college or get a job or a loan for a car. And, if other people were to know you were going to a therapist, they’d assume the worst, and there would be even more people ruining your life.

As a result of this upbringing (which was a result of their upbringing, which was the result of…), I was afraid to confide in anyone about anything. When interacting with someone, I was guarded about what I said and constantly, carefully observed the other person to see how she was reacting to me. It was exhausting, so I basically withdrew from social participation of any kind. I spent all my time studying anyway.  I was pushed to be “perfect” in school, and every morning, when I left the house, my father would actually say, “make all one-hundreds!” Spring semester of my senior year, my father required me to weekly check on my “ranking” in my class.  He was determined that I be in the top ten.

College life

I did graduate in the top ten in my class, and I received a scholarship to a top twenty-five university. Can you imagine what it was like for a socially anxious person like me, living in a dormitory? I even had a roommate that first year.  There was never a time that I wasn’t guarded, constantly worried about what other people were thinking about my actions, my words. I got drunk (very mildly) for the first time as a freshman in college. At the time, the release from anxiety felt wonderful but the next morning, when I couldn’t remember exactly what I’d said to each and every person or how they were reacting to me, I panicked.  I hadn’t done anything conventionally embarrassing or risky; I had just let my guard down in conversations.  Twenty-two years later, I can still remember the feeling of that anxiety.

Sophomore year wasn’t any better. In fact, it got worse. I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t eating. I was crying all the time. (Which embarrassed me! What were people thinking?!)  I decided to check out the free mental health services for students. I was so optimistic that I was finally taking the step that would set me free from all my worries.  I thought I would just open up to the counselor but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t let my guard down. The sessions were mostly spent in silence, and I sensed that the therapist didn’t know what to do with me. After a few visits, I gave up.  Shortly afterwards, I met the man who would become my husband.

Marriage

With all my issues around social paranoia, I hadn’t dated much. My future husband lived in my dorm, and he determinedly pursued me.  Slowly, I became comfortable with him, and for the first time in my life, I acquired a serious boyfriend.  I realized it was so much easier to worry about the opinions of just one person, so I relied on him to meet all my socialization needs and stopped trying to have friendships of any kind.  Also, he was more into me than I was him, so I wasn’t worried about him leaving and telling everyone all about me. Of course, that was a problem in itself – I was also scared to ever leave him. As a result, just a few months into a relationship with my first “real” boyfriend, I decided it would have to be for life.

Surprisingly, that relationship lasted for 13 years (married for nine). About three years into our marriage, he had an emotional affair. (I later realized that our relationship worked so well because he really basked in being someone’s center of attention.)  That destroyed me.  I sought therapy again but ended up having the same experience – the counselor didn’t know what to do with me.  I only went for a few sessions. As for the affair, the “other woman” graduated and left town, and we brushed the whole thing under the carpet.

Parenthood

Four years later, we had a baby boy. Your husband can’t be the complete center of your existence when there is a newborn. With my years of practice “reading” people’s reactions to me, I knew he was feeling neglected.  I wanted childcare to be a collaborative experience but, as much as my husband always said that he wanted a son, I was shocked to see that he had no interest in parenting. I was pissed that he didn’t help with bathing, never changed a diaper, or basically did anything at all.  With my lack of sleep, I let my anger show.  This was a first in our relationship, and my husband was not pleased.  When our son was two, my husband started an emotional affair with a married woman.  We went into marriage counseling at my urging.  After a few sessions, the emotional affair escalated into a physical affair, and my husband left. I tried to keep up the counseling by myself but I was a stay-at-home mom when he left, and suddenly, I had to find a job and daycare. Therapy became a very low priority.

Repeating Patterns

I found the job, the daycare, and a couple years later, got involved with someone else. As much as I thought I would avoid repeating the patterns I had with my husband, I found them repeating beyond my control.  As the relationship went on, I could tell that it wasn’t healthy, but I was determined to stay in it. I started experiencing migraines on a regular basis. I was miserable. When the guy broke up with me, I realized that I couldn’t keep repeating this same pattern my entire life. I decided to find a therapist once and for all!

Success!

Due to my bad previous experiences with therapy, I had an idea of what I was looking for and of what would work for me. Fortunately, I had good health insurance, and there are tons of therapists to choose from in my area.  I researched the websites of several and was determined to visit as many as possible to find the right fit.  Surprisingly, the first one I went to was perfect.  She didn’t do “talk therapy” with me (I wouldn’t have to open up in the traditional way!) but guided meditations, leading me to relate images that I saw in my mind. She recognized right away that I needed friends that I could confide in. She said she would help me to achieve this.

I spent 1.5 years with her, but, I didn’t tell anyone about it for at least a year.  I scheduled our sessions during my lunch hour.   As I slowly learned to open up more with her, however, I started to open up more with other people as well. And, when people started telling me about pervasive issues in their lives, I found that I was comfortable relating my experience with therapy.  This made others more open to trying it themselves. I just warned them to do their research before choosing a therapist and not to give up until they find the right one!

How successful has therapy been for me? Remember how I’ve always avoided telling anyone about myself out of fear? I’m now writing personal stories, on a daily basis, for a website that is read by thousands!

 I wrote the above post in October 2010, but this past July, explained my anxiety from a more spiritual perspective: Why speaking my Truth will always scare the hell out of me. Whatever the source, therapy was indispensable in dealing with my anxiety.

What have your experiences with therapy been like? Feel safe in sharing them here!