When All Else Fails, Count On Therapy

 Why I Started Counting on Therapy: A Journey from "Oh No" to "Oh Wow!"

Okay, let’s be real. Life is full of those delightful moments that make you question if the universe is secretly trolling you. You know, like when you walk into a room and forget why you’re there, or when you spill coffee on yourself five minutes before an important meeting. These are the moments that make you wonder: Is this the universe telling me I’m doing it all wrong, or am I just clumsy and over-caffeinated?

Spoiler alert: It’s both.

That’s where therapy came in. Not like a "fancy” therapist in an ivory tower, but a lifeline thrown to me like a rubber duck in a sea of stress. Let’s just say, counting on therapy became my way of making it through those delightful WTF moments.

So, how did I end up in therapy, you ask? Well, let me paint you a picture of the chaotic, awkward, and slightlyembarrassing reality that led me to embrace my inner "therapist's favorite patient."

The Lightbulb Moment:

I’d been silently drowning in my own sea of anxiety, like a fish trying to do math. All the signs were there—forgetting things, overthinking things, spiraling over random decisions like what pizza topping to pick (pepperoni or extra cheese??). I would lie awake in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering if I had made the right choice to have pizza at 1 AM or should I have opted for a burger.  What was the driving force to cause me all this anxiety?  Well, I was caring for ailing parents who chastised me my entire life, kicked me out of the house for being a teenager, and contributed squat to my future while trying to work full time and tend to my own needs.  All the time my siblings, were living their best life without a care in the world. I was suffocating and this is just a tip of the iceberg that I went through to get here.

I became the queen of “I’ll handle it later,” which really meant “I’ll let this fester until my brain turns into a hot mess of emotional spaghetti.” I was overdue for a good ol' therapy session, but I had no idea how to start.

The Therapy Trial Run:

Eventually, I Googled it—because, you know, the internet is a proven source of reliable advice (said no one ever). I found a therapist who didn’t seem too intimidating (we were off to a good start), and with a mix of fear, excitement, and shame, I booked my first session.

Here’s the thing I didn’t realize: Therapy isn’t some dramatic movie moment where you’re sitting in a dimly lit room, dramatically confessing your deepest secrets. No. Instead, it's a lot of you sitting in a chair, talking about things like why your mom always used to make you wear turtlenecks, or why you think your dog is judging you for eating Doritos on the couch and then it results in a prescription to numb the pain.  I felt like I was wasting my time and money.

The Unexpected Therapy Realization:

Now, here's where things get interesting. I figured therapy would be like a magic potion—one session, and boom, problem solved! Instead, what I discovered was that therapy is less like a magic trick and more like training for a marathon. At first, I felt like a hot mess with a lot of stuff to work through—hello, panic attacks over whether or not I left the stove on (spoiler: I didn’t). But once I found the right therapist (and eventually many many many years later I did, therapy started to work in ways I wasn’t expecting.

It wasn’t about fixing things overnight. It was about learning how to cope with all the life stuff that inevitably comes your way. And let me tell you, there are a LOT of “life stuff” moments. Therapy taught me how to laugh at my anxious thoughts, and how to handle them with a bit more grace (and a LOT less Googling).

How Therapy Helped Me See the Funny Side of Life:

It’s no secret that life is messy. People will disappoint you. You’ll have bad days. You’ll spill coffee on yourself at the worst possible moment (again).  You will run high and low. But what therapy helped me realize was that life doesn’t need to be perfect. In fact, it's those messy, awkward, uncomfortable moments that often make life hilarious—if you let them.

Like the time I accidentally sent a text to my client that was meant for my partner. The text? "We need to dump them, they are not letting us do for them what we were hired to do" Oops. Did I panic and want to crawl into a hole? Absolutely. But then I remembered what my therapist said: “Don’t take everything so seriously. Life is about learning and growing, and yes, also laughing at yourself.” So, I went to my client and confessed that I was trying to figure out my inner villain. Guess what? Relationship severed in a calm manner and we parted ways. Therapy win!

The Moral of the Story:

If you take nothing else away from this blog, let it be this: Life will always throw you curveballs. Therapy, however, can help you laugh while dodging them (and sometimes throw them back). It’s a place where you can laugh at yourself, vent, and most importantly, stop googling your symptoms (because, seriously, WebMD is not your friend).

So, here’s to Countin' On Therapy—not as a quick fix, but as a tool for surviving the madness that is life. Whether you’re laughing through your mess or trying to keep your coffee stains to a minimum, therapy helps you see the humor in all of it.  This Blog will be sharing some of the more interesting therapy topics I have brought to the table and how me and my therapist can find laughter in them all.

And, let’s be honest, in a world full of disasters, what else can we really do but laugh at ourselves?

Trust me—your therapist is definitely on your side. Plus, they probably have better jokes than you think.

Blogs To Come:   Searching For Stray Bullets

                             For Pete Sakes, Pee Where It Is Intended

                              I'm An Accurate Shot

                              Pay Attention

                              Now That I'm Grown Up, What The Hell Am I Going To Be

                              Helloooooooooo, Is Anyone Listening?

                               A Pain In The Ass; Why My Butt Hurts So Much

                               If It Ainchi One Damn Thing, It's Another