I met with a new therapist today, and I was only halfway through my first sentence when my voice cracked for the first time.
I felt I had to pause what I’d been saying, (which was undoubtedly something incredibly emotional and revealing, such as “I have been depressed for a while now,”) and explain what was going on, as if I was the first person who has ever cried during therapy. “I’m a crier,” I said, “You should know that about me. I’m going to cry the whole time I talk to you, and that’s just how it’s going to be.” She laughed and said that was fine, of course, and she would grab me all the tissues I could possibly need. “Oh, it’s alright,” I explained, as I reached around to my back pocket to grab the handkerchief I’d knowingly brought along with me. I told her, “I came prepared.”
I’m not sure why I even thought it would be possible, but I had convinced myself that I was going to be able to discuss my life with this therapist without snotting all over her couch and crying the whole time. I was so, so wrong. Before we even started talking about me, I knew I was wrong. I was sitting on the couch listening to her explain the legal forms that I’d signed–disclosure statements, right to privacy explanations, etc.– when I started to feel the inside of my sinus cavities start to tingle as if I’d just snorted a giant pile of crushed lifesaver Wint-O-Greens. I’m sure a lot of people cry during therapy, but I’m willing to bet that not everyone gets choked up while their therapist is running through her personal education background. But I do. Ooooh, I certainly do.
Before I picked up where I left off, I told her that I’d basically just shown her everything she’d need to know about me. I know that I’ve got a lot of stuff going on in my life, I know that I have problems. And even though I haven’t figured out how to fix them yet, I have learned to compensate fairly well. I understand my particular collection of -isms, and I prepare accordingly.
Then I blew my nose into the handkerchief that I’d brought, and we dove right in.
You go, girl! Way to accept your quirks and work with them openly. You rock for going to counseling! Keep it up. There are lighter days ahead.
I’m so glad to hear from you and excited you met with a new counselor. I had an extremely similar crying experience the first time I saw a counselor. Crazy. An unbiased listening ear does crazy things. How’s the new house?
you know missy giove? thats crazy
This might be a stupid question, but, why are you depressed?
Don’t answer that. I got the answer.
Hey, Sarah. It’s been a while since your last post, and I was thinking about you. Just checking in to see how you’re doing.