There’s something about reaching 22, that just, hits the spot… existentially.
So… I’ve been in a gently chaotic period. Unsure of what to call it, I guess it can be deemed as another season of healing. I don’t know. But I’ve had some pretty big feelings lately, ones that can’t be soothed with a quick phone call to a friend, or a night on the town rating the bartender’s skill. It needed: therapy.
The notion of therapy has been circling social media for quite some time now, with mental health professionals giving tips, validating experiences, and offering pathways to discovering services that work for you. And I’ve been eating that sh*t up. With mental health becoming a hot topic, it’s nice to know that the stigma is slowly being peeled back - obviously we’ve got long ways to go, but it’s a refreshing start.
A quick repost of a meme that makes light of some extra traumatic situation? It’s what I live for.
Eventually, it was going to have to surpass relating to strangers in the comments and clicking ‘like’ for every user that managed to put into words feelings that you’ve harboured for years. And I guess now, it was time to take the plunge. Without rendering social media useless, I managed to find my therapist through watching others’ videos on services they used to find a professional that they liked. With a quick email inquiry and an introductory chat, I soon found myself sitting in that chair, unsure of where to begin.
The movies make it feel all so dramatic. Diving into the huge sh*t first, building a rapport on the first session, and getting answers for questions that plagued your soul in the first thirty minutes. I quickly realised, again, that this was real life, and this wasn’t going to be some Band-Aid situation. I sat there awkwardly, asking the therapist what I should say. Was that step one of what’s wrong with me? Not having the space and support to process my feelings growing up had left me feeling stumped. Like what do you mean I get to sit here and actually have someone listen to me without judging, blaming, or telling me how to dictate and navigate my emotions. It was a whole new world, and I was ready to breathe it all in.
I could sit here and rant on how enlightened and privileged I feel to be attending therapy but, I’ll keep my ting brief (I’m chronically online fyi lmao).
Admitting that therapy was crucial at the ripe age of 22, sent me into somewhat of a spiral. Having to face the fact that there’s a wonderful mess of trauma in my wake was not on my bucket list, just yet. But I knew that trying to start crafting my life without the correct support just wasn’t going to happen. It’s like the analogy of building a house on sand – the foundation needed stability. And so, here I am. When I occasionally compare myself to my age mates, it can feel bittersweet. Yes, everyone can benefit from therapy (look at the state of our world), but knowing that I am not only battling ADHD, undiagnosed tism for SURE, estrangement, burnout, and tons of other bullshit, makes me feel like I have to miss out on ‘normal’ living until I can finally process my (recent) past. On the flip side, I’m telling myself I’m mature and demure. Focusing on my mental health and prioritising what I (!) need to has been a gamechanger. Ultimately, I now don’t feel like I’m “missing out”. To keep it real, I’ve seen my parents. And what led to the breakdown of our relationships, was that they never had the space to deal their shit when they were my age. I’m not trying to be in my 40’s, finally addressing the hell of my childhood, teens, and early 20’s. I want to do it right.
This entire post was just me coming to grips with therapy, and voicing the tidbits I’ve had since starting. And dude, you are never too young to start therapy. Clearly, there was no age threshold to trauma.
Side note: You don’t have to pay for therapy either. Go and cry to your GP, you pay taxes right? Heck, even if you don’t, we all deserve healing.
Maybe you’ll see my mental improving with my writing haha. But hopefully not in my poetry just yet…. It makes for good pieces xoxo
Anyway, I wish 2025 to be a year of peace, no matter what that looks like for you. It’s the year of ‘9’ after all, so what needs cleansing, will go.
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