it's time to fix what's broken

I believe in fixing your my own problems.

Like how I bought wall shelves from Tar-jhay two weeks ago for my sex dungeon bedroom and I wanted to hang them myself, so I screwed holes into my walls without measuring the shelves to find out just how far apart the screws had to go and I ended up with one five too many holes in my walls but I fixed it because I'm awesome and you can't even tell that I totally failed at hanging those shelves.

Or that time I boarded the wrong plane because I was late to the airport  severely intoxicated (thank you, Mr. Lawyer for buying me shots of whiskey that night) and I ended up in Jacksonville instead of Pittsburgh because yes, I BOARDED THE WRONG PLANE and I'm apparently an idiot when I'm drunk, so I fixed the problem by catching a red-eye flight home. (make note of this if you ever have to travel with me and I decide we pre-game at the airport)

OK fine, that's not really a fix to my problem, but whatever.  I still made it home and it still makes an awesome story to tell.  You're welcome.

My point is, I'm a do-er, not a watcher. (TWSS? No?)  I like to do men  midgets  things, not watch someone else do them for me.  This is a result of my fierce independence for the last seven years.  I don't like feeling helpless, and I often feel that way when I can't do something myself or I need someone else to do something for me. 

I have been fighting a lot of internal demons lately, like my depression and loneliness.  I finally reached that point where I could admit to myself that I was depressed and lonely without feeling bad or suicidal.  No, I'm not suicidal.  (I can only imagine how many people are going to come across my blog when they search for 'suicide' or 'suicidal' on Google now)

Last night I kind of had my breaking point with all of it.  I've been trying to fight my demons myself and figure out how to cure my own depression and loneliness.  Truth is, I can't do it and it's taken me seven years to finally admit to myself that I need help.

My first and only experience with a therapist was about seven years ago.  My mother kind of forced me to see one because her and I were having a bad relationship and I was also battling a mentally abusive [which later became physically abusive] relationship and she insisted that I talk to someone.  I've asked my friends who have experienced the whole therapy-thing if it's really worked.  They've all said the same thing: the key to good therapy is finding the right therapist. 

I'm not the kind of person who talks openly about my life because I'm afraid of being judged or criticized for some of the things I have experienced or endured in my past or the mistakes I've made that have left me damaged and broken. 

I stopped seeing my therapist because I felt like it wasn't helping; she wasn't helping me solve my problems or find out why I was battling depression.  Looking back, I now realize that the reason therapy didn't work for me was because I didn't like my therapist.

For the last few months, I've juggled back and forth about seeing a therapist again.  In the back of my head, I keep thinking that seeing a therapist won't help me find answers.  What do they know about my life?!  But realistically, I need someone to talk to - a professional - who can help me sort through all of the internal things I am going through.

I'm damaged and broken and I need someone to fix me.

I finally made the commitment to see a therapist.  I have two consultation appointments with two different therapists (because I whole-heartedly believe that if counseling is going to work for me, I need to find the right therapist).  Of course no one told me that mental health costs so much!  Goodbye, $145 that I will never see again!

But in the end, it's not about the money.  It's about working through my demons and finding myself again.  It's about re-telling all of my damaging stories and experiences so that I can fix what's broken.

I just hope this works.

"Doesn't matter how tough we are, trauma always leaves a scar.  It follows us home, it changes our lives; trauma messes everyone up, but maybe that's the point.  All the pain and the fear and the crap.  Maybe going through all of that is what keeps us moving forward; it's what pushes us.  Maybe we have to get a little messed up, before we can step up."

- Grey's Anatomy -