I was sixteen the first time I went to a psychiatrist.
I don’t honestly remember the appointment all that well, but I do remember sitting in the waiting room, getting nervous and thinking I was out of place.
I remember a nice blonde lady calling my name, following her to a small office, and then plopping down in front of an empty chair that looked nothing like the fainting couches I had seen on TV.
I have my first therapy appointment tomorrow.
It’s not my first ever appointment, but it’s the first after six years or so without any therapy or counseling. It seems fitting to talk about my first therapy appointment on my first Clo Bare blog post, seeing as my desire to add more joy to my life is reason for both endeavors.
Part of me is relieved to have finally surrendered to the truth that I need help at this point in my life, and the other part of me is dreading the start of this journey, as if it’s a sign of relapse or weakness.
It was a long trek last time around, and I never felt like I gained the skills I needed to deal with stress, massive life changes, and the general overwhelmingness that comes along with becoming and being an adult sometimes.