In the 6th grade I discovered the existence of a thing called “therapy”. It was a difficult time in my life (well, as difficult a kid who wasn’t physically harmed could have) and I felt I had no one to talk to. Because of an issue, I ended up having a couple of therapy sessions with the assistant principal and attended a few group meetings lead by the school therapist. Once I entered junior high though, my views on therapy changed. I felt that seeing a therapist meant people would walk on eggshells around you (if they found out) or call me names behind my back. It didn’t matter though because by the time I was in high school, I figured out other ways to express myself and I was a more optimistic person.

College has proven to be much more difficult than I could’ve imagined. Here, my attitude changes. I’m always a bit anxious, regardless of what my day has been like. After years of resisting, I finally sat down with a professional today and I have my first formal session next week.

I’m nervous. I only like to talk about my feelings as I’m feeling them and every other time it feels like I’m faking it. I need help though. I can’t be this stressed about life all the time. And it’s not just stress, it’s what it does to me. How it darkens my thoughts far more than I let on.

I like talking to strangers about my feelings (note the anonymous blog). I’m almost always honest because I feel that every person I meet could be my new something special and I want them to know me, right off the bat. Another thing I’m worried about is revealing some thing that will further screw up my life. I’m bound to bring up the argument I had with my mother but it’s hard to explain why I was so hurt by her without repeating what she said. And what she said sounds far much worse when talking to someone that doesn’t know her like my brother, dad and I do.

Hopefully my session will go okay. The next step now is revealing to my mother that I’ve sought professional help. That’s going to be an awkward conversation that will lead to an even more awkward conversation with my father (if she choose to share the news with him, that is).