I met my partner 18 years ago. She started therapy regularly after our first five years together. She started to see some patterns in her behaviour, especially toward me, that she wanted to work on. Since then, she has decided she wants to become a therapist.
On the other hand, my journey started when I tried to access counselling 25 years ago. My GP tried to put me on an antidepressant immediately. I said no. Since meeting my partner and her starting her therapeutic journey, she has tried for a long time to get me into seeing a therapist. It took almost 15 years, but I started about a month ago.
Now, this first therapist has not been mind-blowing in any way. No breakthroughs, no revelations. Really, I don’t think we’re vibing. But, still, being able to say aloud some of the things that I hide from everyone else is, in and of itself, therapeutic.
The list, above, were my stumbling blocks, too. They still are. Add to the list that I’m an underemployed, visible minority, a father-of-two in a high-stress career, and that I refuse to “adjust [blithely] to a profoundly sick society.” I’d rather continue to feel my isolation and my detachment than walk into Walmart whistling and smiling at my good fortune.
All this to say (TL;DR) therapy comes from your own commitment to honest self-examination. Guided, surely, but at least attempted. It won’t be found in a pill, potion, or portent. I hope to find a therapist who can challenge me to do better.
I met my partner 18 years ago. She started therapy regularly after our first five years together. She started to see some patterns in her behaviour, especially toward me, that she wanted to work on. Since then, she has decided she wants to become a therapist.
On the other hand, my journey started when I tried to access counselling 25 years ago. My GP tried to put me on an antidepressant immediately. I said no. Since meeting my partner and her starting her therapeutic journey, she has tried for a long time to get me into seeing a therapist. It took almost 15 years, but I started about a month ago.
Now, this first therapist has not been mind-blowing in any way. No breakthroughs, no revelations. Really, I don’t think we’re vibing. But, still, being able to say aloud some of the things that I hide from everyone else is, in and of itself, therapeutic.
The list, above, were my stumbling blocks, too. They still are. Add to the list that I’m an underemployed, visible minority, a father-of-two in a high-stress career, and that I refuse to “adjust [blithely] to a profoundly sick society.” I’d rather continue to feel my isolation and my detachment than walk into Walmart whistling and smiling at my good fortune.
All this to say (TL;DR) therapy comes from your own commitment to honest self-examination. Guided, surely, but at least attempted. It won’t be found in a pill, potion, or portent. I hope to find a therapist who can challenge me to do better.