Chapter 13: Therapy Progress Report

It has been almost one year since my ex-husband and I separated, and nearly a year since I began my journey in therapy. So much has changed since then. Life is somewhat unrecognizable.

I was reluctant to begin therapy. It feels like it was a combination of things…

• I grew up in the 90’s when mental health was not a common topic, and it certainly wasn’t for preventative help or maintaining mental stability. It was (in my view) something reserved for the truly nuts. It was reserved for people with major issues – and remember I suppressed my traumas like a freaking champ, so that obviously wasn’t me. If you can’t see a problem, there is nothing to discuss with some stranger.
• I did not see the value in it.
  • And this was kind of true right up until about the second or third session with my current therapist. Perhaps a small part was due to the fact that I have serious issues trusting and opening up… especially to a virtual unknown human.
  • But I think for me, more of the difficulty in understanding the value came from the false belief that if I just didn’t begin picking at an uncovering the traumas, they would remain relatively harmless.
  • I also did not know what the end game was going to be. I like to have a goal. I appreciate knowing what I am striving for… so to go into something potentially painful and distressing without a clear understanding of the WHY or even WHAT I was trying to accomplish felt stressful.

The ending of my marriage and beginning of my therapeutic journey are intricately woven together. It is impossible to separate the two.

Things in my marriage had deteriorated to the point that I could not see straight. I was living, scratch that, surviving each day in utter panic. Things were stressful constantly, with little to no relief. My heart rate was so out of control that my watch would several times a day ask if I was ok because my heart rate was elevated without physical movement to explain it away. I wasn’t sleeping. I would find myself hyperventilating. My vision felt off, like I was in tunnel vision most of the time. I was, by all accounts, in a stress-induced panic attack. I needed to make a change. I was almost paralyzed with fear.

Part of the change was to find a professional to speak to on a regular basis. I knew I needed help. And I needed it quickly.

I began therapy in March of 2023. Again, I really didn’t know what I needed, I just needed someone to help me. I chose my therapist because her specialty is abusive relationships and sexual assaults. I thought I should find someone who would understand my problems, my stresses, my traumas. I knew I was going to need to talk about the past. That first relationship rewired me for failure… It changed me; it taught me to accept far less than the minimum; it created a sense of worthlessness in me. And I know that is a foundation for how I moved forward through life and relationships (platonic and romantic alike).

As I look back over the last year of work, I am SO proud of myself. I can honestly (and proudly) claim to be a stronger, happier, healthier version of me.

I have spent nearly every week on the couch of my therapist’s office, working through my world. Crying. Yelling. Cursing people. Cursing myself. Talking. Thinking. Trying. There have been many times when I leave her office and need to crumble on my couch. It is emotionally exhausting. It is physically demanding. It is mentally straining.

Even with all the uncertainty in the beginning and the frustration throughout, I can see major changes and improvements. I have a sense of peace and calm about me. I am more confident and excited about the future.

I was in a tunnel of darkness, therapy is making steps toward the light. And today, I feel like I can feel the sun on my skin. I am shedding the darkness. And man, it feels amazing.