Confession

I would much rather be watching tv then blogging this, but I feel it’s a long time coming.

I went to therapy when I was in college. Part of me is still ashamed and considers this a private matter, another part is… well. Remember at the beginning of the month in “Why Bother” when I said I wasn’t suicidal? Well I said that because a) I didn’t want readers to think that I was suicidal even though I was depressed and b) I knew I wasn’t suicidal because I was in college.

It was after a failed suicide attempt that I went into therapy. At the time I didn’t know who to turn to, because I was having problems dealing with several people and most of my friends knew at least one party. I was in a downward spiral. My therapist didn’t give me any drugs or anything because it was an emotional problem- not a chemical imbalance.
I went to her for several years. She met with my parents and my older brother. At the tail end she sent me to group therapy which didn’t work, as I was constantly comparing my mental well being to others. In fact, I said little because I thought they were way more fucked then me.

I mention this because for the first time I admitted this to a non family member today. I know therapy isn’t for everyone- My father’s second wife force my dad to go. Since my dad didn’t go of his own free will, my dad got nothing out of it. But it was interesting to me when my shrink met with my brother, with me and him comparing notes in the open about my dad( all three of us agreed he doesn’t listen).

I think it’s odd that even though I think it was beneficial to me, I’m very embarrassed about it. I think it help me create a network of support… and ways for me to deal with life and my family. Heck I think this blog is very therapeutic and helps me currently deal with crap by just getting it out there somewhere.

Last note: I never told her or my family of my suicide attempt. I feared they’d end up locking me up/ ‘holding me for observation’. I admitted I was suicidal, but not that I had od’ed on sleeping pills- I ended up throwing up some of the meds and just being REALLY sleepy for about a week. However, instead of taking more pills or finding a plan B, I ended up drinking soda and making sure I ate when I was up.

At some point, odds are I’ll share the two part story of what drove me to the edge. Suffice to say, therapy helped and while I sometimes get in dark moods, it’s never been as bad as it was in that year of college.