Why Therapy Sometimes Helps – And Sometimes Doesn’t

2–3 minutes

I haven’t had much to say lately, which really isn’t like me. Things have been picking up with the charity, and it’s meant I’ve spent less time focused on myself. That definitely has its upsides — I’m not overthinking every single breath I take — but it also means I need to stay aware of one of my biggest downfalls: taking on too much.

I had a conversation the other day about therapy and ended up voicing something I’d never really said out loud before. I’ve had therapy a few times in my life, but if I’m honest, I’m not sure it’s ever really worked for me. I know for some people therapy is a lifeline – something that genuinely keeps them going. For me, there’s only been one time when talking to somebody actually felt helpful. And that was quite recently.

The thing about therapy is that it often opens old wounds — wounds we’ve tried to forget or bury. And that can be incredibly painful. A lot of therapy focuses on the past or traumatic experiences, and I know for me I often looked at those situations from the outside, almost like they happened to someone else. So when I had to bring them up in therapy, it felt nearly impossible to put myself back in that space.

But this most recent experience with therapy was different. It didn’t focus on the why. I’m still too vulnerable for that. And that’s okay. Some people find digging into the past really helpful — I’m just not one of them. Maybe I will be one day, but not right now.

This time, the focus stayed in the present. I looked at the relationships I have in my life. Not why they were damaged — just what I’d like them to look like, and what steps I could take to get there. And honestly…it helped. It was hard, but it wasn’t painful. It didn’t make me want to retreat into myself. It didn’t make me feel like I shouldn’t exist. I didn’t drown in shame or guilt.

Therapy isn’t for everyone — or maybe you just haven’t found the right therapist or the right type of therapy yet. I’ve left and come back to therapy more times than I care to count. And that’s okay.

This is my story — and if it doesn’t look exactly like yours, that’s absolutely fine. You’re allowed to do what’s best for you.


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