I feel like this isn’t taboo to write about anymore, so here goes.
For my therapist,
Thank you for greeting me with warm eyes and a wide smile when I first met you. I remember being more sullen, less receptive to advice, essentially the epitome of “in my feels” when you first introduced yourself to me that August. Thank you for encouraging me and reveling with me in my accomplishments, even when they were as simple as getting out of bed after two days of being wrapped inside my blankets.
The one hour I spent with you on a weekly basis is a much-needed break from the outside world. Sometimes I’m exhausted to the point where I’m falling asleep in my chair, and at other times, I’m bouncing up and down in my seat from my fifth cup of coffee. You remind me to take each day at a time, plan out what I need to do, and get it done. Simple as that. Don’t overthink it, even though that’s something I can’t help but do. My mind, constantly racing, is soothed by the sixty minutes I sit in that chair, memorizing the patterns of the rug beneath me, as I trace the pillow that sits in my lap.
Quiet. The clock ticks, ticks, onward. Sometimes we sit in silence; you look at me and wait for the gradual processing of my thoughts so I can translate my musings into the English language. Sometimes I can’t stop rambling, feeling overwhelmed as a wave of anxiousness crashes over me. Nevertheless, you listen. You offer me a practically sacred opportunity to come to terms with all aspects of my life, as painful as some are for me to move past.
Growing up in an Asian American household, my parents haven’t always viewed mental health as a valid concern. You have been incredibly patient, listening to everything that’s on my mind, thoroughly answering my questions, and opening up a path of communication between all the members of my family.
You’ve been an advocate for me when no one else understands how I feel. Beyond that, you’ve advocated for my own health above all, reminding me that it’s not my Achilles heel to require an extra boost of serotonin and dopamine to get through my day. Even on days where my mentality is all f*ck the world and f*ck my brain and its lack of neurotransmitters, thank you for being there (or like a text message away, pretty convenient that I can text you because sometimes one weekly session isn’t enough).
Okay, honestly speaking, you haven’t been the entire reason why my life looks entirely different than it did 1.5 years ago. Though, you have acted as a catalyst; seeing you was the first indicator that I was at least making an effort to seek help and make my life into something worthwhile.
So thank you! For being there for me, supporting me, and helping me express what I want to say.
If you’re reading this and it strikes a chord with you, don’t be afraid to consider reaching out and seeing a therapist. Sometimes you just need someone to talk to.
Sincerely,
Lauren