“Therapy has been a game changer for me in managing my anxiety,” shared my friend Sarah. For months, her weekly sessions led her to a place of acceptance and tangible progress. “That’s fantastic!” I said, genuinely happy for her. Yet, as for myself? I didn’t think I needed therapy for managing anxiety. That was a lie. The truth? I was afraid to take that step.
Why Did I View Therapy as a Last Resort?
After all, combining medication, natural remedies, and mindfulness practices like meditation can be a powerful way to tackle anxiety. The generational stigma surrounding therapy only intensified my crippling anxiety. I was bombarded with misconceptions and stereotypes, leaving me in turmoil. Why should I share my struggles with a stranger? Couldn’t I just pray harder? Did experiencing anxiety mean I lacked faith? What was wrong with me that I couldn’t simply “chill out” and enjoy life?
My Journey with Anxiety
Anxiety has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. My first memory of it dates back to when I was just two years old and involved in a terrible car accident with my family. The chaos of that twenty-car pileup in Chicago left me so shaken that I had to rush to the bathroom, and my mother had to plead with a laundromat owner to let me use the restroom. I can still vividly recall the woman’s face and the scorching heat of the dryers that couldn’t ease my shivers.
From that moment on, anxiety crept into my life. I would wake up at 5 a.m. to watch my dad leave for work, consumed by fear of a tragic accident. I’d have meltdowns in situations beyond my control. I craved order, while chaos felt like my greatest enemy. In middle school, I began suffering from severe stomach pains, which eventually morphed into panic attacks in my twenties. I was a bundle of nerves, and it was exhausting.
Seeking Help
I first sought therapy at the age of 33, during a time of intense anxiety as I awaited news on whether the baby we were matched with would become our daughter. I had three little ones at home asking if they were getting a sister, and while the newly painted nursery offered hope, it also tormented me.
I realized I could no longer manage my racing thoughts alone. Although I had finally decided to try anxiety medication, I understood that my journey toward better mental health would be significantly enhanced by addressing the elephant in the room: I needed therapy.
For weeks, I contemplated making that appointment, and even the idea of calling gave me anxiety. When I finally found the courage to reach out and write the appointment down in my calendar, the reminder loomed over me like a shadow. The unknown pushed my anxiety into overdrive.
The First Session
On the day of my session, I decided to wear my most comfortable workout clothes, prioritizing authenticity over appearance. With my heart racing, I drove across town, continuously reminding myself that this was a positive step.
Surprisingly, the experience of therapy was rather uneventful. I didn’t walk out transformed, but I did feel a little lighter—not because my adoption-related emotions were resolved in one session, but simply because I had confronted my fear of seeking help.
Reflections on Therapy
Looking back, I wish I had embraced therapy in my twenties, when panic attacks first started to affect me. There’s a liberating feeling in sharing your struggles with a trained professional. Loved ones may judge us, even with the best intentions, but therapists are there to listen, guide, and support without judgment.
Over the years, I’ve gained valuable insights about anxiety, especially after working with a therapist who specializes in anxiety disorders. I’ve come to understand that anxiety often has a genetic component—I’ve identified at least four relatives who also struggle with it. Furthermore, anxiety disorders are prevalent; more than one-third of women will experience one at some point in their lives.
Many women grapple with the gap between societal expectations and their realities. After adopting four children, surviving a near-fatal illness, and losing my breasts to cancer, I’ve often been labeled as strong and brave. Yet, on most days, amidst the chaos of life, I feel anything but. I’m just as vulnerable and fragile as anyone else.
Owning My Journey
Engaging in conversations about my experiences—both with my therapist and my friends and family—has diminished the power of anxiety, allowing me to reclaim an important part of myself. I’m learning to own my pain and celebrate my victories instead of hiding from them.
Now that therapy has become part of my routine, I’m more open about my struggles with anxiety and the coping mechanisms I employ. I’ve stopped avoiding the truth. I am a person who experiences anxiety, and there are countless others just like me.
Conclusion
In summary, I wish I had sought therapy sooner rather than viewing it as a last resort. Therapy is simply another appointment on the calendar, but it’s a unique form of self-care that has the potential to transform lives. For those considering therapy, remember that it’s a safe space to process emotions and reclaim your identity.
If you’re looking for more insights on family planning and home insemination, check out this excellent resource for pregnancy options.