Alright. Here it goes.
I go to *gasp* therapy....like with a real doctor. (At least I think so...he has a lot of fancy papers on his wall that have big letters after his name.)
I'm not sure why this is talked about in whispers and hushed conversations. "Yeah, you know, she goes to a, well, shrink." "Have you heard? She has to go talk to somebody." It's not a crime, I swear.
When my anxiety started affecting my life (like, can't go to the grocery store) I decided it was time to be proactive rather than someone find me dead in my basement 12 years after I kicked it. I found a rather lovely lady who I chatted with every other week or so for about a year. She gave me a rock and told me I was ready. And, I was. I had learned enough to fight the good fight against anxiety. So that was that.
To keep my anxiety in check I make regular pit-stops with my new guy. Really, I could sit in a room and talk to myself or, better yet, go eat dinner in a quiet place with my favorite book and no kids. It's more fun to have an audience. We chat about why elevators make me jumpy. We discuss why I still have to be disagreeable sometimes. He tries to convince me my kids are normal while I try to explain to him they are most certainly not.
This is a difference between a therapist and having a glass of wine with your best friend. They don't judge you. They give you advice or helpful hints. If you follow it, great. If not, well, that's okay, too. A friend will give you advice and helpful hints, as well. If you don't follow it, you will be called out. There are times when this is okay. Sometimes it's great. But, it's not always effective. Sometimes you need someone who's not invested in your happiness.
So, there's my dirty, little secret. I haven't grown two heads...I don't hold human sacrifices in my garage...I don't wear white after Labor Day. I'm a perfectly normal (whatever that is) girl who happens to have conversations with someone trained in matters of the mind.
Now, remember, you promised not to tell anyone, right? RIGHT?!?!?!