“And how does that make you feel?” My psychologist asked, cocking her head. In that moment, it all hit me like a tonne of bricks. I was paying this woman $150 an hour to cock her head and ask me how I felt about shit things that were happening in my life.
I used to always leave her office feeling as though a weight had lifted off my shoulders. By the time the next appointment came around which was the following week, I was too stupid to realise that things remained the same. Not only did I have the same problems as I did the previous week, but this time they had snowballed. Nothing was ever resolved. Talking about how I felt about something never helped, in the long run. It just helped me to articulate my thoughts, to analyze my thought process. But I couldn’t get peace from that. But I wanted something fixed, I wanted the feeling of that weight to be lifted forever. Or at least until the foreseeable future.
At the next appointment, I told her I wouldn’t be needing her anymore. She looked surprised and asked me what led me to that conclusion.
“I realised that I have to do this by myself. Without your help.”
She seemed pleased and nodded. Sure, maybe talking about how I felt didn’t really help things in the long run. But it did make me realise that I needed to stand on my own two feet and walk this one alone.
It’s the way its always been. It’s the way it always will be.