I Tried Girls of A Feather’s Telehealth Service

Here’s what I think about starting therapy

I am a therapy-kind-of-person. You know, that person on the other side of statements that people make when they say that ‘their problems aren’t big enough for therapy’. My problems are. I am that kind of person whose life is the alternate version that people refer to when they say that ‘their lives aren’t the kind of hard that requires them to see a counselor’. My life is. I have the kind of emotions that people speak of when they say things like “I can handle my emotions, I’m strong like that.” I am not strong like that. I am a therapy-kind-of-person. I have always been a therapy-kind-of-person.

Nineteen years of life has made my head a messy place. Some of which I clean up, neatly fold and nicely pack away. Imagine my triumphant smile do so. Now imagine also, a faint rumbling noise behind me- a closet unable to properly shut, some hampers filled to the brim. Imaginarily ignore that with me. At this point, I’ve forgotten so much of what’s in there. Ehm… like I said, I’m a therapy-kind-of-person.

Coincidentally, one month ago- although I was still then a therapy-kind-of-person, you could neither catch my mind or mouth releasing such a bold statement. I couldn’t dare. Because, in my head, my problems weren’t big enough for therapy; my life wasn’t the kind of hard that needed to be shared with a counselor; I could handle my emotions ’cause I’m strong like that. As any great St Lucian has said, “I fine, ih.” Fine with lugging around my trauma, my sadness and devaluing them. Thinking that if I, alone, sat with my mess, I could fix it all and prove that no one needs to help me. I got this.

But, I didn’t. I never did. And, apparently when you do that… no one knows that other side of you…because you never show them…so they can never be there for you, or listen, or help. Who knew?! It seems so obvious, right? However, when you are the one holding the six-foot-distance pole at people; way before COVID-19 was a thing, and you’re the only one holding your troubles, it’s not that apparent.

I’ve been tired of ‘being strong’. For quite some time now. I guess, I never really acknowledged it. It probably got lost in one of the hampers with the rest of the emotions that I had suppressed. I was tired of making excuses. I was messy when school counselors said that their doors were open, when friends were available- at every opportunity- I was messy then. I just didn’t believe that I was a therapy-kind-of-person. But, the thing about mess is, it builds up. And eventually, it gets too much. Try not to allow it to get to that point, because, I can assume (and I’d be right) that you- YES, YOU- reading this are a therapy-kind of-person. Whether you believe it or not.

I must say that a piece of me signed up for the Girls of A Feather Telehealth Service to prove that I didn’t need help. That I was that breed of human being that was sparkling, emotionally elite and independent.

What I got, however, was . I can’t describe what it is exactly, but I can try. I got a safe space where it was okay to be uncomfortable and vulnerable. To sort through and talk about my past- and also have nothing to talk about. Where my words don’t really have to make sense. And, for once, someone who is actually qualified in this sort of stuff listens. It’s no longer just me. My courage grew along with my consistency- both which I had to be intentional about. It’s something new, and it’s not always comfortable, but nonetheless it is something good.

There is an authentic, warm air around my therapist. She creates a healthy and open environment at each session, one where it’s easier to be transparent. I’m learning about being weak sometimes. And showing up as that. Knowing that that’s enough- because that is also me. I’m human like that.

After a while, the excuses aren’t enough. After a while, you realize that you’re ready to step into a new dimension of your life, but you can’t take some of that mess with you. You need to uncover and organize it properly. All it takes to start is a try. I tried to silence my excuses. In that try, after a few clicks and a few weeks, I’m learning vulnerability. I like it. It’s a reason I’m writing this, and that’s why today, I can confidently say, I am a therapy-kind-of-person.

“ We started out messy but then we came to a place of acceptance where we accepted our mess. We recognize that there is courage in the acceptance of who we are fully. When we act from a place of courage, there are invaluable lessons connected to it, and from those invaluable lessons we come to a place where we recognize the beauty and fragility — that we’re all kind of complex, and soft , and hard, and lace and leather, and delicate and strong, but all of us chosen. ” — Sarah Jakes-Roberts.