I lied to my therapist
Shit! Back at it again. You see, one thing those mental health gurus fail to tell you on instagram lives is how much relapse is a bitch. 2 months into the covid pandemic I was diagnosed with a depressive episode, well that's what they tell you so you know it has an expiry date, no specific date, but just know it's not supposed to stay. It definitely does not stay but it sure does come back. Come back ten times worse.
“I got this! I got this.Igotthis, I......”, this is depression at work. You think you’re just having a bad day, then a bad week. Then you tell yourself things will get better while actively not doing anything to get better. Then one day you have a breakdown because life genuinely doesn't make sense anymore. And don't get me wrong you are still functioning, but like a government worker working for minimum wage, slow! And that's exactly how it happened to me. Two months into covid, I LOST IT! And one day I decided help was necessary. I needed a therapist.
Meet my therapist, another black caribbean woman well established in her field. She was quite reasonable, gave me her time and listened to my history. Now, I am not new to therapy but everytime feels like the first. An intimate sharing of emotional and mental thoughts and questions to inspire self reflection. Ughhh! It's like stripping for the first time, the nakedness is so uncomfortable. I FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE! Acknowledging past trauma suppressed and remembering things that you never gave much thought, was oh so painful. She went through it all with me. She had me go through my underwear drawer to find the panties that didn't serve me anymore and toss them out; the ones with holes, the ones that didn't fit, the ones that never fit. She needed me bare so that I could see what I needed to see. Me.
Now here we are, like Dora the Explora, me being “Dora” and my therapist “bagpack” ready to guide me along my journey. You see, after you are stripped and open, you can see the problems a lot more clearly. So we devised a plan. A great plan to address my problems, to push me into my new path. It was a simple plan, I could not mess it up...
Shit! Back at it again. I messed it up. I'm back where I felt I was 2 months into COVID. Did I even try? What happened to the simple step by step plan? “Hi, I'm Rain and I'm addicted to self sabotage.”, my mental introduction because that's who I am. All the confidence built, all the knowledge and self love gained, gone, just like that. And the annoying thing about relapsing is that it hurts more because you have more information to help yourself but your soul just can't seem to access it. Pride kicks in because, “I wasn't supposed to end up here again”, “I failed!”, “I am not strong enough”. “I really could not have relapsed after 8 weeks of therapy, she is going to judge me.”I really don't like it here.
I just had a session with my therapist, she asked for an update on everything. I told her everything was going pretty good. I lied to my therapist, I will DIY my way out of this one.