I never thought very highly of therapy… at least, for those who didn’t have serious issues. I’d seen two therapists at different points in my life, at the behest of others, and neither really offered me much value, so I ducked out after a while. Like a good pair of jeans, though, apparently one just has to find the right fit.
Just before I graduated, I was hired for a great career-focused job. The pay was more than anything I’d had before, and it was something I was looking forward to giving a shot. I chose my major of Child Development in order to become a school teacher, but as I spent more time in classrooms, though, I realized that I definitely wasn’t interested, so I kept shifting my gaze towards other child-related career possibilities. This job I landed was, really, the final shot… and I ended up hating it. I won’t go into the specifics of it all, but I was absolutely miserable just about every second of every day I was on the clock… and coming home at the end of the day offered little relief. It wasn’t that the job was horrible, necessarily, I simply learned that working with kids just isn’t for me — either it never was or I burned out quick — so, that’s a valuable thing to learn. In the moment, though, I hated working this job so much that it helped push me into depression. That’s not a new experience for me, of course, but this time felt a little heavier than usual. Enough-so that I finally decided to see someone about it, professionally.
With a quick insurance pass and a random selection from a few local names, I went to my first new therapy session in June… and much to my surprise, it’s actually been a good time. Both my personal and secondhand experiences with therapy leave me quite skeptical, on top of my natural skepticism, but I’m happy to say that I was blessed to meet the right person at the right time, and we just work well together. We’ve broached topics of creative satisfaction, relaxation, and even my non-existent relationship with my family. While veering through the familial waters one day, my therapist paused in thought, said “I… I don’t think I should say it this way,” and paused again before continuing,” but I’ve been practicing here for 30 years, and I have never met anyone who feels the way that you do about your dad.” Ah, that good ol’ Mark Mushakian uniqueness 😉 . I laughed and let her know it was okay… I’m used to hearing that sorta thing.
It’s just been good conversation, really: low on the psychobabble, high on the contemplative commentary. I’ve appreciated having a sounding board that really works for me, and it’s been good to face certain issues. Because of this time, I’ve been making a concentrated effort to bridge the huge canyon of distance I’ve placed between my family and me. Haha, it’s coming along in really tiny baby steps, and it feels awkward as heck, but I’m trying.
Life’s a funny series of events: I got my job at the Lego store, which helped spark my interest in working with kids again, which let me be in the right emotional/mental place when my friend suggested I should be a teacher, which pushed me to earn my degree, and at the end of that period I took on a job that showed me that I shouldn’t be working with kids but also was instrumental in putting me into a dark enough place to start therapy of my own accord. So, yeah… life’s fun.
Near the end of last week’s session, I mentioned something that sparked us onto a conversation about why I don’t want a romantic relationship or kids, which piqued her curiosity all over again and she wants to delve into that this week… so, at this rate, who knows what we’ll end up dealing with next.
I’m looking forward to it, though 🙂 .