Well cool cats and kittens, I am finally in therapy.
And not in a cute way like athletes or celebrity racists that get caught doing something bad. I mean really in therapy doing work. I always thought that I needed to be in therapy, but when you begin crying multiple times a day and losing it over minor things, you kind of don't have a choice. So my therapist is helping me to get my anxiety under control, anxieties that were on their way to becoming phobias. This is a good thing, because I was only a few days away from going completely nuttybags, yelling obscenities at people from the roof of my neighborhood grocery store.
The thing is, I thought that anxiety was new for me, but after talking with my therapist, I realize it has always been there like an ex-boyfriend that can't take a hint, waiting to get on my nerves. I remember being at a reggae club in New Orleans with my friends and having to excuse myself to cry in my bestie's Honda while everyone else ponned the replay inside. Thinking back, my anxiety journey has been a literal trail of tears, having private crying fits before, after, and even during events in my life.
My whole life I have been branded as dramatic and emotional because I am dramatic and emotional. So when I would get so worked up over things in college that I would race back to my dorm room, fall face-first into my twin bed, and cry into my bedspread, even I figured I was just being emotional and dramatic again. Feeling sick when I had to be around folks. Wanting to hurl at the thought of going out. It has been anxiety this whole time. Who knew?
I have to say, talking things out with someone who actually knows what they are talking about has been BEYOND therapeutic, and I would recommend it to anyone. Life has been stressful and we are finally seeing a possible end to a pandemic. If you need to talk to someone, do it.
