To be honest, I always thought seeing a therapist was for broken people; people who had it hard than me, needed more support than me, and just...not me. I know, I know...I couldn't have been more wrong. Truthfully, I was just scared of stepping into a vulnerable space such as a therapist's office, so I threw myself into a different bucket and counted myself out of "needing help."
The reason I finally broke down and went to see a therapist myself was for PTSD, general anxiety, and basically just to talk to someone who knew nothing about me.
You have the permission to be vulnerable. To seek help. To cry when it doesn’t make sense, to laugh when it seems inappropriate, to not understand why life is the way it is.
One of the scariest things I’ve ever done for myself.
And one of the biggest gifts I’ve ever given to myself.
At the time, I was 9 months deep into hiding my true fears and feelings of mine and my husband's traumatic experience of his Multiple Sclerosis diagnosis. As the spouse of the sick, I remember the moment he told me we had to go to the ER: I internalized my shaking hands and racing heart and put on [what I call] my spousal armor.
...And I forgot to take it off. And to be real. And to FEEL the feelings of grief and fear and true healing.
While this experience may not resonate with you--and maybe it seems odd to believe my reaction to what is now an under-control condition for Colin as he lives his fullest life ever with this disease--I know there is a wife out there freaking out in her own way just looking for an answer to hear fears as her own partner is faced with a scary unknown.
In honor of #nationalmentalhealthday I want someone to hear this message: You have the permission to be vulnerable. To seek help. To cry when it doesn’t make sense, to laugh when it seems inappropriate, to not understand why life is the way it is.
Ultimately, what I've learned is:
It’s okay to not be okay.⠀ ⠀ ⠀
But always always always take CARE of yourself first and *choose* to enjoy the process.⠀ ⠀
