Therapy Day One: Because Ignoring My Problems Isn't Working

Why I Finally Took the Leap and What I've Learnt So Far

I started therapy today.

Man. Just one session in and I already get why people won’t shut up about it. “Therapy is amazing!” “Everyone needs therapy!”

Yeah, yeah. I see it now.

The human mind is a strange, complicated place. And if you’re not careful, it’ll convince you that your worst thoughts are facts. Mine specifically feels like part haunted house, part junk drawer, part chaotic group chat. Therapy, I’m learning, is like hiring a tour guide for your own brain. Someone to walk you through the mess, point at the cobweb-covered trauma, and go, “Ah, see that? Classic 2012 abandonment wound. Let’s dust that off, shall we?”

My goals with exploring therapy are simple;

a) to untangle the psychological spaghetti that is my mind.

b) to process and heal from past traumas (yikes).

c) to become a better-functioning human (whatever that means).

A part of me is scared. Therapy means revisiting painful, uncomfortable experiences. Reopening old wounds and some of those wounds have been duct-taped shut for years. But I think I’m ready for that. What really unsettles me is the part where I’m going to have to look within and be brutally honest with myself, if I want this to work.

We all have a version of events we tell ourselves, shaped by our own perspective. It’s terrifying having to step outside of that, to reexamine situations from the outside looking in, to admit where we were wrong, to own our flaws.

And I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

No more convenient narratives. No more blaming everything on other people’s nonsense. Nope. Now it’s time to ask:

What if I’ve been the problem, at least sometimes?

No more being the misunderstood protagonist. Because therapy asks you to press pause, rewind, and examine the director’s cut. To see the full picture. To accept the moments where maybe you weren’t the hero.

I don’t know if I’m ready for that.

But I do know this: ignoring your scars and wounds doesn’t make them disappear. It just lets them fester.

So. Here I am. Talking to a stranger about my scars and wounds.

I feel hopeful. I don’t know how long I’ll stick with therapy because there is no set timeline for this stuff. And as you already know, sticking with things is not my strong suit. And healing isn’t a one-and-done deal, and it sure as hell isn’t linear. It’s like assembling IKEA furniture with missing instructions: frustrating, slow, and occasionally, you feel like throwing the whole thing out the window. But you keep going because, in the end, you want something sturdy. Something that holds up.

It isn’t just about recalling suffering; it’s about gaining the tools to navigate life, making sense of the past while building a stronger future. So you keep going for as long as you can afford it, and/or for as long as it benefits you.

My therapist (yes, one hour in, and I’m already that person using “my therapist said” like a badge of honor. Prepare to be sick of me! 😆) told me something that stuck:

Scars never fully disappear. But with time and effort, they can become pain-free memories. Like how you remember breaking your arm as a kid - no actual pain when you talk about it now, just a weird story about how you thought you could fly off the couch or climb to the highest point of the mango tree.

I think that’s what I want most. Not to erase the past (because I can’t), but to be able to look back without feeling like I’m still trapped in it.

I hope it works. Therapy isn’t cheap, and I’d really prefer to get my money’s worth.

So here’s to doing the work. To healing, hopefully.

To making peace with the past, one expensive, uncomfortable potentially life-changing session at a time.

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If you’re comfortable sharing, if you’ve tried therapy, what’s one piece of advice that has stuck with you? If not, why not?

And if you have any tips for getting the most out of therapy, I need them. Because if I’m paying this much, it needs to work.