I was discharged from the hospital at the end of the second week of November, 2015. I knew immediately that I had to find a therapist, because that is what you do after you attempt suicide. I’m not a stranger to therapy, but admittedly it had been a while. I began my quest a bit slowly and timidly. It’s not easy to decide to whom you want to bare your soul, now is it?
After a couple of different attempts, I believe I have found someone who I can really work with. And, I kind of can’t believe it. I’ve been seeing her for about a month or so now, once a week, and I have experienced on two separate occasions (after leaving her office) ensuing really good days , which I have found totally perplexing, surprising and ultimately…good.
When you get used to so many days strung together that are bleak at best, it’s rather obvious when a good one comes along. When you can somehow associate that with your therapist and the work you are doing in therapy, I think that’s definitely a positive. Now positives aren’t something I’m used to talking about as of late…but hey…I’m working on it.
I find myself looking forward to the opportunity to share…to share my dark stuff. I want to share my secret feelings and frustrations with someone, someone that won’t be hurt or mad or frightened by them. I want to spill it. I want to spill my feelings all over the place like a can of red paint on bright white carpet. I want to look at it and see it and look at it with someone who won’t be upset with me for tipping over that can. I’m ready to talk.
The first couple of visits with my new therapist have been filled with a lot of history giving, the getting to know you drill and working on coping techniques – so that as we dig deep I have tools to handle the emotions and responses that will likely arise. I like that she is focused on helping me to develop these strategies and to learn to really use them. The trick is I have to remember to practice and to practice and to practice again. I’m not real good at that, historically. But since the paint is gonna spill eventually, it might be time I change my ways.
I went through an outpatient treatment program in October (before the suicide attempt) and came away with a gazillion handouts and info on coping techniques. I even put them in a binder with sheet protectors so that it would be easy to reference. Guess how many times I’ve opened that binder?
Zero. Zero times.
So now, with a new therapist by my side, it’s truly time to get better, make the effort and to practice using the tools she is providing me. If I don’t, I’m just going to end up back where I started…that’s not a place I want to go.