shrinkage…

ME
me, today

…of the head. Therapy of the mental sort continues once or twice a month. I just got back from today’s session. I started about a year ago this April. It has been both helpful and confusing and disturbing and unsettling and amazing. The benefits and enlightenment that comes from being able to talk to a neutral party about anything without fear of judgement, being the subject of gossip, or getting the stink-eye is quite profound. Or can be if you have a good therapist. Otherwise I can see how it would just be really awkward and weird.

I wasn’t convinced at first and I was my shy closed-off self for the first few sessions. I assume that’s perfectly normal and I needed convincing that this stranger wasn’t going to sell my juicy life story (shut up) to the tabloids and ruin me forever. I needed time to build trust. Now Dr. B probably wishes I’d shut up and stop cursing.

Oh, just remembered that I have chocolate pudding in my lunch box cooler contraption….#brightshinything

Now, back to the happenings in my brain. Therapy has been helpful in various aspects of my life and the root of some confusion in others. At the beginning, and in part due to my naturally cynical nature, I had reoccurring thoughts that it was possible that therapy could be creating problems that weren’t there or mental angst that was unnecessary. Ignorance is bliss right? I don’t believe that any longer but I can see how someone could have that “if it ain’t broke don’t fix it” mentality.

It’s scary as hell too, but in that freeing way when you have had a burden lifted off your mind by simply telling someone else about it. Someone who gives you feedback and makes you see things in a different light than perhaps you ever did before. It’s also scary because its so raw. A spotlight is cast and the cause and effect of past events and people in your life becomes evident. And you can choose to either deal with the results of those things or not. There are no right or wrong answers I suppose, only observations.

As I’ve alluded to in my not-so-subtle way, therapy isn’t always fun. To be honest, I usually leave with a headache from thinking so hard and some of the things we discuss are quite stressful. I call them my “therapy headaches”. Sometimes there are tears, sometimes there is frustration, sometimes anger. The really juicy sessions are when all three of those happen at once. Woooo-boy.

Therapy has helped me to actually see myself clearer. As if I’m standing afar off and looking at myself from the outside. Sometimes I like what I see, but more often I don’t. That makes me sad. That gives me pause. And I’m working on it but dammit, it’s hard.

Shrinking of the head may not be for everyone but for me, for right now, it is helping me see things I’d otherwise miss. And so, onward.

A psychiatrist asks a lot of expensive questions your wife asks for nothing.

– Joey Adams

Thanks for reading.

Finn

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