The Therapy Sessions

Let's face it, therapy and I never had a love affair. It was more like a game of hide-and-seek, and the further away I could stay from it, the better. However, 14 years ago, I was going through turbulence in my head: feeling confused, anxious, stressed, and my inner voice was revving at top speed. So I thought, why not give therapy a shot? I mean, what could go wrong?

Just from the waiting room alone, I knew this old-school, French-style setup wasn't really my cup of tea. But, being the brave soul that I am, I decided to give it a try.

My first session was a bit of a blur. The therapist asked me why I was there, and I wasn't even sure. There were probably a few words exchanged, but honestly, I can't remember. All I know is I paid the bill and left.

The second session wasn't any better. The therapist suggested I lie down, but there was no way I was about to start having a never-ending talk with myself. So I politely declined and left, never to return.

My second experience with therapy happened five months ago. I am pleased to announce I did not attend 1, or 2 but 5 sessions! A true therapy graduate! Now, I won't bore you with all the sessions, but there were a couple of moments that changed my perspective.

The first conversation was like playing a game of "Who's Who" with the therapist.

Therapist: "Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? ...Who are you?"

Me: … (thinking: why is he turning into an owl?)

Therapist: "Who are you? Who are you? Who are you? ...Who are you?"

Me: …(start crying and thinking: "I'm not bloody Agatha Christie! I'm just me!")

Therapist: "You have a lot of masks."

Me: (feeling like I just got hit by the Phantom of the Opera's chandelier but trying not to cry)

(Thinking: "No, I don't!")

But of course, I couldn't actually say that.

The second conversation was even more profound.

Therapist: “you have borrowed emotions. There is a loss of identity.”

Me: (feeling like the rug has just been pulled out from under me)

(Thinking: "Borrowed emotions?! Loss of identity?! You mean I do not know who I am?!?!")

Me: “okay great, and then what's next?”

Therapist: “that's okay. We will do another exercice and it will be okay.”

Me: “okay.” 

That was my last session. Good news is that I did not have to give back those borrowed emotions to their initial owners. But then came back the question: who am I?

From a very young age, I learned to associate emotions with drama and pain. So, I decided to keep them hidden and repressed. I became the "good girl" who always said she was fine, even when she wasn't. I started building different masks to fit in with what I thought people wanted from me. And before I knew it, I had lost myself in the process. I was completely disconnected from my own emotions, and as a result, I was disconnected from my own identity.

But now, the real question is, what do I do with all of this? How do I find my way back to myself?