Therapy: What a Taboo?

I had my first therapy session today and I am feeling very hopeful. My experience with trying to get help in the past has been so outrageously discouraging, I began to understand why people give up and kill themselves, it feels impossible. At my darkest moment, I wasn't able to get the help I desperately needed and turned to an overdose rather than continuing the struggle to find help, it certainly wasn't worth the additional mental anguish, I just wanted to die. Today I feel confident in my psychologist, I feel confident in the help that I am receiving, and I even, dare say, feel excited.

Today, PC gave me more incite than I have ever received, solely on anxiety let alone everything else I am struggling with. If I could be honest with her, I would tell her I struggle with my self-esteem, I struggle with intimacy issues after my rape, I struggle with trust in relationships, I struggle with feeling good enough, I struggle with alcoholism, I doubt myself constantly, I don't see a purpose in life. Despite being on plenty of antidepressants, I still find myself wanting to harm myself, wishing I was dead.

It is so beyond frustrating because deep down I know life is good, life is totally fine!! I have a good job, pets that love me, family that loves me, and passions I want to chase. So why do I feel this way? Depression is a monster, it sucks every ounce of life out of the soul and toys with it, it tricks your mind into thinking deluded thoughts, it's cruel and playful at the same time. It feels like a clown, on the surface you think it's there to make you laugh, but you slowly realize it only instills fear, doubt, and sadness.

No matter what I do, changing my lifestyle, moving to the hill country, engulfing myself in nature, or getting a new job, it haunts me like a cough you've been struggling to suppress for months. An illness you know is there, but you want to hide it because... well... you're fine! What kills me the most is my brain's capability of knowing when I am being irrational, knowing when I am lying to myself, yet doing it anyway. Knowing the thoughts I am having are caused by depression, yet believing them as the truth regardless. Knowing I am so entirely capable yet doubting it all the same.

How is it possible to be so rational, yet ignore every rational thought focusing directly on the irrational? This is what makes me want to hurt myself, I know I am wrong, I know I am crazy, why can't I just be reasonable???

I have to remind myself that it is the monstrosity of depression that is causing this, it is not who I am. It is not you are.

I am strong. I am smart. I am capable. I am beautiful.

You are strong. You are smart. You are capable. You are beautiful.

We are strong. We are smart. We are capable. We are beautiful.

To my readers, afraid of therapy...don't be!

Yours truly - AA