Yesterday I did something I told myself I would never do ever again – I went back to therapy.
My mom believes my boyfriend is bad news, and insisted that if I wouldn’t talk to her or my dad about anything the least I could do was tell a therapist. At first I was mad, like, really mad. I stormed out of my parents’ room and flopped face-first onto my bed. I’m in college, why did my mom think it was acceptable to schedule an appointment with a therapist for me without even asking me if that’s something I wanted? Then I realized that most times people who need therapy go because they’re being forced to attend. Maybe this actually was something I needed.
By morning I felt better and reluctantly agreed. I’d go for my mom so she could have some peace of mind. I don’t plan on being a mother any time soon, but as I grow up I’m beginning to understand what it must feel like to be a parent. My doctor’s office was only a town away and took me about 15 minutes to reach. I was thankful that I could drive myself there, it gave me a greater sense of independence. I passed coffee shops and bookstores on my way, delighted at how adorable the downtown area was. I entered the office and handed over my insurance information, then filled out legal forms.
As she opened the door, my therapist looked exactly as I remembered her 3 years ago. Her short layers flared out at the ends and she wore a floral scarf over her blazer. I was impressed at how much she remembered about my life, from my grades in high school to family vacations. We shared small talk about college and our new puppies, then a melancholy silence reminded us of the real reason I sat on her sofa.
I told her about my relationship, the way things slipped out of our hands before we knew what was happening. She told me it was evident that after just 3 months of dating someone I had grown tremendously. She was appalled at how I felt I was wasting all of his time, nothing was wasted she said. We talked for an hour, then I signed a check and she scribbled in her calendar. I’ll be seeing her again next week.
It took a few days and multiple cups of tea for me to realize that going to therapy is nothing to be ashamed of. I attended it for 5 years in the past and took a 3 year break, and that’s fantastic. I’ve made so much progress with my old struggles, and I just so happen to be facing a new obstacle. Kudos to my readers who keep in touch with a therapist as well.
So much love,