Therapy. It’s pretty baller.
I’ve been to a fair share of therapists in the arch of my colorful mental health career. And, I’m an advocate. I think that talk therapy is one of the best ways to remain a stable, emotionally cognizant, and balanced person, so long as you’re seeing that therapist regularly. It’s a place to vent, if nothing else. A person who can take a few issues off your plate and then, at the end of the day, can leave them at the office. They’re like a problem dumpster, really.
I’ve gone into therapy sessions in the past with a plan. A laundry list of things to work through and figure out. I’ve also gone into sessions with only the knowledge that something wasn’t right. A more exploratory expedition, if you will. And, I’ve found, so long as you’re open and want to be there, there’s really no way that you can’t benefit. Bring your shit along, or, find it there while you’re sitting in a comfy chair. It’s there people.
I, myself, tend to warp things in my mind. So, it’s really helpful to have an objective observer clean out some of the clutter, shed light, and offer solutions that I’d never have come to on my own.
I’ve recently started seeing a therapist outside of my treatment program, and, at first she seemed a bit woo woo. One of those coddling voices, calm and soothing. Like a hypnosis tape. It was trippy. And, after my first session, while I did feel better for having had the conversation we did, I wasn’t sure about this woman. Her approach was new and different to me, and quite frankly, she freaked me out a ‘lil bit. But, in the ever living spirit of getting out of my comfort zone, I decided that I’d stick out the five sessions we’d prearranged for and just see where they took me.
Well, it took me somewhere that I wasn’t expecting. While I’ll spare you the details of our session, she took an avenue that initially I was uncomfortable with, but, as our time together went on, I really opened up. I got something out of that session that I’d never experienced in all my years of having my head shrunk.
Maybe therapy had started to seem route to me, just because of all the recovery that’s surrounded me the last few months. But, it was nice to acknowledge that I have issues that are unrelated to alcohol. And, maybe those issues contributed to my alcoholism, but, they were issues first. And, it’s a good, proactive feeling to tackle something that isn’t tangible, like a bottle of booze. It was a visit to that deeper, demon seed. Eye opening. And, a relief. A relief to know that the drinking is just s symptom of a far greater problem. Which I knew. But, as I journey on, I’m able to see more and more layers peel back.
And, no, that’s not necessarily comforting. But, it’s something else. Recovery has taken a lot out of me and my mind. I’m tired, in a lot of ways. And exercising a part of my brain that’s been put aside for a few months felt good. I felt accomplished. And, I realized that my “woo woo” therapist isn’t really “woo woo” at all. She’s got a system that works for her, and, gosh darn it, it worked on me. Shit man.
So, over the next few weeks, I’ll look forward to a much, much smaller head. I’ll have to toss out some of the crap I’ve got floating around in my big old head right into the problem dumpster.
Voila et voila!