Confessions of a Hypocrite

I have to confess something. And it’s not easy for me to do. But, here goes nothing.

I have never engaged in regular therapy or counselling.

Photo by John Hain via Flickr

There, I said it. It’s out there. Feel free to judge me.

I did connect with a counsellor over the phone once, through my dad’s EAP benefits. I was young and terrified. I was confused about what was going on inside my head. And this woman was awful. She minimized my concerns and silenced my voice. Needless to say, I didn’t call again.

About a year later (I think), I connected with another counsellor in my hometown. She was nice. I met with her 3 or 4 times. She helped me come to a few realizations. Then, for whatever reason, I stopped going. At the time, I probably blamed it on my busy schedule. I was in school and working a meaningless job, both full time.

If I were you, I would be questioning me. My credibility. My stability. My expertise. Who the hell am I to tell you, or anyone, about Depression? About therapy and counselling? About how to cope?

I don’t really know why I’ve never gotten help.

Have I been afraid of what I might find? Have I been afraid to look at myself? Have I been afraid or unwilling to do the work to get better? Have I been skeptical of the potential benefits of therapy? For fuck sakes, I went to school to become a counsellor and practically dedicated my life to the profession. And I haven’t even done the work myself. How can I sit here and tell other people what it’s like and what they should do to help themselves? I’m a fucking hypocrite.

Maybe I just never thought I deserved to get help. I always had a sneaking suspicion that all of the pain and misery I lived with every single day was deserved. I used to joke that I must have been Hitler in a past life to deserve this suffering. With that in mind, maybe I just thought this was my burden to bear. I thought I wasn’t worthy of wellness and happiness.

I think it’s time. I think it’s time that I break down this last bit of the wall that I was holding onto for dear life. It’s time to allow myself to access the means to get better. It’s time to get help.

The first step will be getting my blood work done, and following up on the results with my new Family Doctor. Then, incorporating some supplements into my diet (like iron and vitamin D). Then… finding a therapist.

It’s time for a new adventure. And fuck, I’m scared. 

What have been your experiences with therapy or counselling? Share and comment below.

Much love,
Rain

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