My first session with a mental health professional

Eight years after a cancer diagnosis and two years after a recurrence and subsequent amputation of my right leg, I finally saw a therapist. Hallelujah. I have been putting this off for YEARS. What would a mental health professional say when I shared my story? Would they seem shocked and unsure how to proceed? Or would I be judged for how I have been coping thus far? I felt like an imposter for always recommending others to put their mental health first when I was not doing all I could do for mine. I have had countless conversations with people who are struggling and made myself a resource to them, it has become a part of who I am, yet here I was acting like a hypocrite.

Thankfully, I have no substance abuse problems, and I have never felt suicidal, so I waited because this didn't seem like an emergency. I knew how to use writing, art, and breathing techniques to manage my anxiety, and true crime documentaries were oddly helpful to pull me out of a funk. It still wasn't enough.

After a series of events, including a panic attack, a gummy bear incident, and too much stress at work, enough was enough, and I needed to take control of my health and happiness. I took the plunge and clicked on the Well Connection link of my BCBS insurance app and scrolled through the provider's photos, searching for someone I thought could handle my emotional word vomit. I know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, but this was going to be a tele-health visit, and I needed to feel as comfortable as possible staring at a stranger with all my truth out there for them to sort through. I found what looked like a kind and patient face and booked the next available appointment. I already felt more in control.

I chose a private but comfortable spot in my home for the video call and took a deep breath as I joined the virtual waiting room. Suddenly the kind face appeared, and a few light-hearted jokes helped bring my guard down before it was time to share my story. I immediately felt no topic was off-limits, and the more I spoke, the more I wanted to tell her everything I had been bottling up. Although I sensed an acknowledgment of just how much I have been through, I never felt pity. She gave me a journal assignment to complete before our next session, which I booked right away, and we wrapped up the call with the promise that she would check in later in the week via text and email to see how I was doing.

As we hung up, I suddenly felt lighter and more empowered. I was now the kind of person who reached out for help when they needed it. I understood even more that therapy is for everyone. We can all benefit from openly and honestly sharing our struggles with someone who has an outside perspective. I want to think that if my therapist had not created a space I felt safe in, I would not lose hope in the process and put in the work to find a different provider. But the truth is, I don't know if it would have been too disheartening. Therapists are humans; they are unique and may use different techniques or tones. What works for me may not work for you.

If you have tried and failed to find the right person to share with, I encourage you to try again. I believe in the magic that happens once you find the right match and begin to rebuild yourself brick by brick.

Let's make a pact to hold each other accountable for working on our mental health and getting the help we need, even if that means kissing a few frogs first.

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