5 Reasons to Try Therapy

As I parked, I wondered if anyone would drive by and recognize my car. At this point, I was so worn out from life I lacked the energy to care about the stigma anymore. I shrugged and walked across the street to the Counseling and Testing Center on campus. 

It was a temporary building and everything was a bit squished inside, but I appreciated the office’s relocation to the outskirts of campus instead of at the heart of social life, like it was before. It felt safer.

Over the following weeks, I stopped worrying if people would spot my car or notice me walking in for appointments. In the crowded temp building on the edge of campus, an internal shift began. I gravitated from the outskirts of myself toward the very center, and as I tended to my heart I found there was no place I would rather be.

Three years later, I’m still an avid fan of therapy. In fact, I think everyone should go to therapy. Here are a few reasons why:

1. You probably need it.

After experiencing firsthand the benefits of therapy, I’ve encouraged scores of people (okay, pretty much everyone I know) to make it a priority. The responses vary, but I’ve noticed something. 

The people who are most adamant about not needing it usually need it the most.

A main roadblock to getting into a therapist’s office is stigma. Stigma—which I like to call a Silent Killer—tells us therapy is only for people who are “weak,” “have problems,” or are “broken.” 

But aren’t we all broken? Don’t we all have problems? In this case, “stigma” could be a synonym for “pride.” 

Therapy isn’t solely for times when we’re so beaten down we can’t get back up without help (though it is incredibly helpful for those times). It’s also for anytime we desire to be healthier, know and love ourselves well, and interact with and love others well. Which should be….all the time.

If you haven’t figured out how to love yourself yet, therapy is for you. If you ever have conflict with others, struggle with self-hatred, or have a screwed up family, therapy is for you.

If you’ve figured out life already or if you are smart enough to figure it out without help…therapy is especially for you. (I know because that used to be me.)

Adobe stock photo

Adobe stock photo

2. It's a healthy practice - like a wellness checkup.

In nursing school, patient education is heavily emphasized, especially when it comes to disease prevention.

“The best treatment,” I remember my professors instructing, “is prevention.”

When it comes to mental health, a similar premise holds true. Much like medical care, therapy is not limited to addressing acute situations. Rather, therapy is useful for promoting wellness holistically.

It helps increase our emotional IQ (I didn’t even know this was a thing until I started going to therapy) and keep our mental habits and frameworks in working order. 

Nearly every operational thing needs periodic maintenance in order to function at full capacity—cars need oil changes, air filters in our homes need changing, etc.

Our brains benefit from maintenance too.

3. Counseling is different from venting to a friend or receiving advice from a mentor.

A common misconception about therapy is it’s simply a place to vent or externally process—much like a coffee date with a close friend or phone call with a confidante. 

While therapy does provide the opportunity for both venting and processing, it also creates space for so much more. 

It provides an objective perspective—and someone who will call you out on your bull. Many times, we aren’t aware of our weaknesses or lapses in judgment, and neither are the ones closest to us. In fact, they might have the same blindspots we do.

Therapists focus on what's best for us and are extensively trained to identify and help us address underlying issues.

They are equipped to see past the smoke screen and find the fire. Sometimes the fire is obvious and blaring, and other times we've dismissed it as a smoldering pile of ashes from the past. That's a skill worth paying for.

Sessions are helpful for working through difficult situations, but perhaps their true value comes in the way they challenge our way of thinking.

4. It allows you to empathize with others.

Being willing to try therapy for yourself serves a dual purpose when it comes to relating to others. 

First, it allows you to relate to those who go to therapy. Some of the people I connect with most are friends who also go or have gone to therapy. They understand how wonderful it can be and how difficult, how the stigma still stings sometimes, and how it’s worth it anyway.

It shows me they are humble enough to seek help and admit they’re still growing. It lets me know they’re less likely to judge me for my issues.

Second, it gives you a leg to stand on when you suggest someone else try out therapy. Mental illness is increasingly widespread, and odds are you have already suggested that a loved one seek therapy. It’s one thing to encourage a form of treatment you’ve “heard” works. It’s a whole different thing to endorse a practice you’ve been willing to try yourself.

5. It could change your life.

When I walked into the office for the first time on campus, I was terrified and I was proud. 

Yet therapy changed my life—and it still is. (At some points, it probably saved my life.) Therapy isn’t the be all end all, but it is incredibly helpful.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in therapy, it’s this:

We’re all broken, including me. It’s okay to need help, and it’s courageous and healthy and right to ask for it.

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Post-Depression Recovery

Life during depression is a beast all in its own league, and it deserves every bit of awareness, support, and investment in resources.

As time passes, I’m discovering life after depression has its own unique challenges as well—and unlike periods of depression, this odd period of transition seems to fly under the radar, even among the best of Google searches.

Though I would choose the current difficulties of life any day over the darkness of depression, today’s difficulties are still, well, difficult. As I process through these challenges, here’s what I’m finding:

1. Coming out of depression, though lovely, is still a transition.

Transitions can be hard. Change brings about growth, and growth can be painful. Even though this change was desperately anticipated—and even though this pain seems minimal compared to the throes of hopelessness—I am still experiencing growing pangs.

I’m like a bear crawling out of hibernation who meets the bright sun as if for the first time, squinting his eyes and momentarily shell-shocked at the change of environment.

Like Mr. Bear, I’m reacclimating to my surroundings. Suddenly filled with long-lost energy and motivation, I’m relearning what my capacity is and how to draw boundaries. Some days, like a bear cub, I play excessively out of pure joy and then collapse into a heap for a day or two.

It’s all part of the transition.

2. I lived with depression for a long time, and it feels odd—even intimidating at times—to be without it.

It was off and on, but the struggle with depression spanned my entire adult life until this year. 

At first I was afraid to confess my happiness aloud because I was afraid the sacred emotion would vanish. Even now, a tinge of hesitancy lingers.

Adobe stock photo

Adobe stock photo

Like a sparrow with a recently mended wing, I’m timid at first to launch into blissful flight. The delicate bird recalls the days of soaring in the wind, but the memory of falling sounds off the alarms in her head.

Like Ms. Sparrow, I doubt my abilities and question any sense of confidence. With time and with courage, this fear will pass. For now, I still face it every day.

3. Sometimes I’m still sad. Some days I even feel depressed again.

The arrival of days reminiscent of depression remind me self-care regimens are most effective when promoting wellness, not curing disease.

Grace and permission to struggle are granted often enough to keep the perfectionism at bay. My bed receives enough quality time to even out my mood—and to make eyes widen and mouths gape. My therapist’s office is still warmed by my presence. Recovery is gradual.

I’m like a baby sea turtle hatching from an egg buried in the sand. He undertakes the arduous trek across the beach and finally reaches the water. But even as the tide pulls him forward into the ocean, waves lapping up against the shore push him back momentarily before he can move forward again.

Like Baby Sea Turtle, I progress slowly, not in a neat, linear way but in zig-zags, lurches and pauses. Sometimes processes cannot be quantified nor journeys predicted.

Pixabay stock photo

Pixabay stock photo

Nevertheless, they can be one of the most important things ever to happen to a baby sea turtle. Or to me.

4. Part of my sadness involves grieving the past times of depression.

We grieve because of loss. Depression brings loss.

It brings the loss of happiness all those years. It brings the loss of truth believed about myself—truth of worthiness of life and love and much, much more.

Even elephants grieve. When they return to a site of a herd member’s death, they pause to grieve and remember. I grieve through tears and art and writing this.

Like elephants, I cannot forget; the impact of depression is stamped in the past. I never want to relive it, nor do I desire to dwell on it. But I will acknowledge it and honor the season of immense pain and suffering.

To dismiss it would be to spurn not only the struggle but also the victory.

5. Depression may have ended, but it hasn’t been erased from my past.

This is a misunderstood part of recovery. I’m still trying to figure it out myself.

No physical mark mars my body, but scars on my heart are certainly present. It’s easier to hide the season of sorrow now because it isn’t the daily donning of a mask. It’s a passive choice not to reveal the words stamped on earlier pages.

Yet these scars on my heart are not blemishes. They are part of my story, and my story is beautiful in its own rite. Without them, I wouldn’t be who I am now.

How depression fits into my story, what part of my story I’m living now, and where my story will go—these are all in the works.

Like every human, I’m still making sense of yesterday and today and tomorrow. 

It’s all part of life after depression.

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Living Generously in a World Full of Wanting

Stock photo from Pexels

Stock photo from Pexels

People buzzed with excitement and quickly formed a long line to the tent up ahead. Pairs of eyes peered around the shoulders in front of them. I was amazed. From the level of anticipation, I would have thought I was on a college campus and someone was handing out free Olive Garden vouchers. In reality, I lingered at a small book signing event outside of a church.

When I think back on the experience, I'm still in awe of how excited the crowd was. It seemed strange to me—but then again, flocking to famous individuals never made sense to me, anyway.

What stood out to me was how everyone wanted something from this author. This was the motive behind the long lines, the bubbling excitement, the eager squirming. They waited for a signature, a picture, a conversation. They wanted to take away something they didn't have before.

It all seemed so superficial and selfish, and over the next few weeks, I began to recognize this desire to get something all around me.

In Waco, I regularly hear stories of over-enthusiastic fans (and downright stalkers) of Chip and Jo from the show Fixer Upper. People travel the world for a handshake, a photo, or boasting rights on social media.

Music enthusiasts purchase backstage passes to meet artists. Diehard sports fans arrive early for an autograph. Groupies compose lengthy fan mail and posts and hope for a reply, a mention on Instagram, or a retweet on Twitter. The lengths to which devotees go is often exorbitant (laughable, even!). 

We want something from our heroes, whether they're athletes or authors or politicians or the "popular" person in our social circles. We want signatures or fame or affirmation; but deeper than that, we want to be recognized. We want to be known by our heroes.

Slowly, I began to realize this striving to connect with people we respect and admire reflects something deeper. Sown into each of our beings is an innate need, a craving to be known by the ones we adore. Not known from afar but in a real, intimate way. Not known as a member of a crowd at a concert but as a unique individual backstage, where we're close enough to see and touch and converse.

Children crave to be known and loved by their parents, students by their teachers, all of us by our mentors and role models. Perhaps fanbases are simply a byproduct of this natural craving.

When I was surrounded by people at the book signing, I made a conscious decision not to approach the situation with an attitude of wanting something but with a readiness to give. The perspective shift was refreshing, and I wondered how to apply this change more broadly.

As I've observed this deeper desire fueling fanbases—the need to be known—the antidote for always wanting something became obvious.

There is One before whom we are fully known, who has more influence than we can imagine and can fill our heart's deepest craving. When we meet with him and rejoice in being known and loved by him, a perspective shift happens naturally. We no longer feel the need to be known by a well-known artist, by some influential businessperson, by that particular pastor, teacher or leader.

I am fully known. The One who matters most is the One who loves me most. Great joy lives in this truth.

When we operate from this knowledge each day, we don't have to decide consciously to interact with an attitude of giving, not getting. We don't have to remind ourselves not to make a fool of ourselves to gain someone's approval or attention.

No, when this deep desire in us is met, giving comes naturally. It comes subtly and subconsciously. Compliments, encouragement, tips, and gifts slip out of our mouths and out of our hands.

When the Lord is our Shepherd, we shall not want. When the Lord is our Shepherd, we can't help but give.

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Media Resources for Times of Need

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Adobe stock photo

In my last post, I shared about my 6-year journey through depression. Through either personal experience or by walking with friends through their struggles, I've collected a list of Christian media to serve as resources during times of struggle. Feel free to add in the comments and share with others!

-Allison

Books

Grace for the Afflicted: A Clinical and Biblical Perspective on Mental Illness by Matthew Stanford, PhD

Blame It on the Brain? by Edward T Welch

Shame, Perfectionism & Belonging (which are all intertwined with anxiety & depression)

The Gifts of Imperfection by Brenê Brown, PhD, LMSW

Daring Greatly by Brenê Brown, PhD, LMSW

Rising Strong by Brenê Brown, PhD, LMSW

Present Over Perfect by Shauna Niequist

As Soon As I Fell by Kay Bruner

Abba's Child by Brennan Manning

Scary Close by Donald Miller

The Me I Want to Be by John Ortberg

Trauma

The Color of Grace by Bethany Haley Williams, PhD

Whole (blog) by Sarita Hartz (especially for missionaries)

Transition

Packing Light by Allison Versterfelt (Allison Fallon)

Rocky Reentry (blog for reentry)

Addiction

Breathing Under Water by Richard Rohr

Coming Clean by Seth Haines

General

Lord, Heal My Hurts Devotional by Kay Arthur

 

Music

Caveat: This is mostly from the beginning of my struggle with depression, so these are a bit out of date. Also, if you're experiencing depression please know some songs can make you sink further into hopelessness. If you start to feel this, skip to another song. :)

Shawn McDonald: Don't Give Up, Rise, Storms

Superchick: Crawl (Carry Me Through), Breathe, Hold, Stand in the Rain, Help Me Out God, Beauty from Pain, Suddenly

Gungor: Please Be My Strength

Ginny Owens: I Will Praise You

Matt Hammitt: All of Me, Let It Bring You Praise

Steffany Gretzinger: Out of Hiding

Tenth Avenue North: I Have This Hope

 

What's your favorite Christian media for difficult times? Got something to add? Drop it in a comment or email me!

 (*Note: links to books are affiliate links)

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