Ok, the joke was on me.
I had just stated that I was feeling funny writing about depression when I wasn’t feeling depressed. This must have caught my therapist off guard. She was chuckling to herself, but the smile on her face gave her away. It is important to know which side you are seeing. I was seeing a side of her she rarely lets out.
My therapist has been a rock, and continues to help me in so many ways.
She reminds me when I am being too hard on myself. Then she continually affirms my value. She does this regardless of the day, the week or even what may be happening at home. There are moments where she gets me to see it, too. While these are few and far between, they would not be happening at all without her support and guidance.
I feel so lucky and blessed to have found her last year.
And I have been meeting with her weekly for about 8 months. At first, she had to remind me that I shouldn’t think of our sessions together as work. She had mentioned a book, so I bought the audio version and listened to it before our next session. And I ordered a hard cover of the book, which arrived before our next session.
Instead of being prepared for our session, I was really overdoing it.
In the end, our sessions have become much more relaxed, with a no-pressure vibe emanating from the room. I finally understand that this relaxed, no-pressure environment was what my therapy sessions were always meant to be.
This doesn’t mean that no work is involved or that every session is easy.
In sessions where I have a breakthrough, the intensity level in the room is so thick it can be cut with a knife. I never felt tired or relieved or much of anything in the past. For some reason, my new therapist understands how to help me reach inside and pull out different areas for me to look at and consider.
And I appreciate and trust her when she says, “what is said in this room, stays in this room.”
I know that when I first started seeing her last year, I was guarded about what I would say. And I was careful not to curse. Generally, I am not a curser. I use profanity very, very little. So, I often use it to get a person’s attention. And this strategy works. But getting back to my therapy sessions, at first, I did not curse at all.
This does not mean I wouldn’t use shoot, or darn it every once in a while, to make a point.
But I felt funny using the actual word. Now, when I feel the need to use an actual curse word, I use it and not its watered-down equivalent. This subtle change in my behavior was, at first, not observable. Well, I did not see it for quite a while. Then, in one session, my emotions got the better of me, and I found myself being brutally honest. Nothing I said in that session was sugar-coated.
Now let’s get back to my guilt about not feeling as bad as I once did.
My therapist was snickering because I felt bad about writing about my depression when I wasn’t overly depressed. From her professional status, she could see how far I have come. Her observations about my journey should be seen as a badge of honor. My current state should be celebrated, not seen as a reason to feel guilty.
But here I am, feeling guilty for feeling better.
And while I know that I should feel better about feeling better, I mostly feel guilt. If I feel better about my depression, I have no right to be writing about my depression. Hmm. I’m going to need to think more about this. Maybe I can write about my depression. It is and always will be a part of me. Just because my depression is taking a step back, doesn’t mean that it has left the building.
