The weeks following my divorce were devastating to me. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. It took everything in me just to breathe. I had lost everything; my home, my “family,” my income, my dreams, and most importantly myself. My identity was so wrapped up in my role as a wife and mother that I didn’t know who I was now that I was no longer someone’s wife. I was barely functional and spent that time in a deep depression that I had little hope of pulling out of on my own. My parents begged me to get some counseling, but I refused because I simply didn’t want to talk about it. Recalling all of the events that led up to this point in my life was far too painful for me to recount to anyone else. I felt like there was no way some person who knew nothing of me could understand and help me deal with what I was going through. Talking about it wasn’t going to fix it. Nothing could.
I had two parents who had been through difficult divorces, and while they could both empathize with what I was going through, they didn’t have the tools to help me heal from these experiences. They knew that I needed someone on the outside who could be objective to help me find ways to cope with where my life was at. They were too intimately involved to give me the advice and the help I needed to heal from this difficult experience. For months I struggled to deal with things on my own. I didn’t want the help. I was adamant that I could get through it on my own. Some days I put on a pretty good face, but on the inside I was still being tormented by these feelings. Finally, after eight months I gave in and decided to talk to someone about it. It was the best decision I could have ever made, I only wish that I had done it sooner.
Being able to talk to someone on the outside was good for me. I needed my feelings validated by someone who had no emotional tie to me, someone who could be objective in their judgment. Going through therapy pushed me out of my comfort zone. We did exercises that I never would have done on my own, but that helped give a voice to the feelings that had been trapped inside me for so long. I learned so many things about myself, about life, and about what I wanted from it. I never could have discovered those things on my own. For a long time I was taught to view getting therapy as a sign of weakness. Instead, I learned what great strength it takes to get the help that you need. The path to healing is long, but you don’t have to travel it alone. There are so many people waiting by the sidelines to help you get to the finish line, all you have to do is ask.