I pull into the parking spot, take a deep breath and gather my purse..climb the stairs to the small room..there is no secretary to check me in, just a small room, with low soothing music. I fill out paperwork left on the counter and wait..there is just a door that leads back to, well, who knows, I let my mind drift and think what are we going to talk about??…
The door slowly opened and a sweet man said “hello, you must be Whitney” I nod yup.. I get up and follow him back to a comfy room with a couch and chair..I sit in the chair..my heart is pounding..OK, fix me doc. We introduce eachother and he explains his background and what he has to offer me.. I like this man, he’s sweet, honest and I feel safe. Now he asks me to go over my history..and I proceed to tell him my hell..we talk about breathing exercises and that medication can be addictive.. yup, I know all this..and some day I won’t be able to lean on benzos..ahhhh that is my one relief! But he says he believes it will be a long time before that day will come..good, I need my meds everyday still..don’t send me into another attack.
We go over family history..does any of your family have anxiety.. I stop and think.. well, I believe my momma does, she has always been a stressed out person..sorry mom, I love you, but you are a bit of a stress case, you could shit out a dime.. she’s heard us use these expressions to her.. so I’m not throwing her under the bus. She has always spent time being worried. My younger sister as well, bless her cute heart, but she too has anxiety. And I can understand her anxiety.. she was given a gift..an athletic gift that would send her all over the world and put her face on the front and center of The Californian newspaper, almost every week..she’s a softball prodigy. She use to bite her nails, they would bleed.. She would carry stress because she’s always had to carry the weight of being perfect.. I love her, but she is a product of perfect people syndrome, trying to uphold a perfect reputation of being perfect. That always made me sad for her, but she raised a high achievement bar and always would hold that perfect standard.. she’s amazing. Now, my father’s side of the family I have never met..but I do know my father’s mother had MANY mental illnesses..she was a hot mess and I believe she had some anxiety. But I couldn’t really be sure.
Was this man trying to say anxiety was genetic? I just can’t believe that..we touch base on my childhood.. now, I do not want to hurt my family, so, I will only briefly be writing and touching base on that part of my life.. and I now have a wonderful, loving relationship with my parents.. they are my best friends and I can count on them for anything. But, I will say my childhood was not normal, I did not have a good relationship with my parents or my sisters..we were not a close family and I was given the blame of whatever issue was going on. Now, I was not a great teenager, of course I would make my parents life hell, but they had zero time for my needs..they were raising the next Babe Ruth. I took back seat to anything and everything.. they made it clear I was never as important, they would say that I was jealous of her, they would say everyone is jealous of her! Wow, really. I CAN ENSURE YOU THAT IS AND NEVER HAS BEEN THE CASE. Very odd statement to make to your children and what kind of pressure did that put on my sister ( these statements are strange and baffling, but probably very damaging to a young girl)..they were never home, they traveled for my sisters sports.. she’s a super star. And none of my childhood is her fault. But her life was what ran our home. I believe if my parents could have, they would have found me a new home, but I was a tax write off..ha, ha I’m joking of course. I would lean on my best friends mom, I believe she raised me.. mentally, she raised me..she is a strong woman. She raised strong children and so I believe that rubbed off on me.. I was independent, I had to be at a young age.. because I had to help raise myself.
The therapist explains how our childhood is what builds the adults we become..I’ve always known this..our past shapes who we are, as hard as you try to run from it. He explains we all emotionally carry around a bucket, a bucket where we dump our stress into..well, when I got pregnant my bucket shifted size and got too full and spilled over..OK, maybe he has a point, but this is not what happened to me.. mine came before I knew I was having a child, like the chemistry of my brain shifted and boom now I have anxiety.
We discuss my relationship and our history.. how my partner is not an emotional human and is not understanding of this disease. Now, there is only 5 minutes left on the clock…is he going to fix me?? He simply asked me if I worry about Colin.. I burst into tears..he says ok, I want you to think about everything we talked about today and practice your breathing and I will see you every Tuesday for 9 weeks..then we will ask your insurance for more sessions if needed. He also asks me if I think these sessions are going to help, or do I atleast have hope.. my reply is..I don’t know if you can fix my anxiety, because I’ve lost faith. But I know I need these therapy sessions, as much as my body needs water to live.
OK, I survived day one.. I really like this man..and I can’t wait to go back.
I will be going in and out of what therapy has done for me and what my experience has been like..I’ve now, as of today been to 3 sessions..and I can say this man is helping change my life.. he is sifting through all this shit and baggage I never realized I was carrying. If anyone would like his name or number..just email me. He’s sent from heaven I am sure!
I have one more post I’ll put up later today, but Colin is waking up and motherhood is calling.