It still surprises me that in this modern and enlightened day and age when so many people are opening up about their mental health issues, and we all share suicide hot line numbers so people with depression can get help - that therapy still carries a stigma of shame.
Not that I am ashamed. I currently take my youngest to a child therapist for his anxiety issues. It was one of the best decisions I have made for both of us. But when I say this out loud to anyone people usually quickly acknowledge it and then squirm past the subject like someone addressing a grieving person.
My older son even started teasing his younger brother. "Ha, ha. You have to go therapy." His young friends even chimed in and made fun of him. Like what a weirdo, you have mental health issues. You go to a therapist like a crazy person. Personally, I don't know a single person who isn't slightly crazy in their own unique way. And I know many people who would benefit from seeing a therapist.
I mean what's wrong with therapy. You pay, sometimes with the help of your insurance, a compassionate professional who has to listen to you unload your problems and stress. Isn't that what we already try to do with our friends? People who are sometimes over-burdened themselves and not quite qualified to give helpful advice.
Therapy is great! We start the session with me unloading buckets of parental stress and detailing all the ways my kids make me crazy. I talk and talk and talk, and he listens. Like really listens before offering constructive help in ways that have actually worked to build a stronger relationship with both my kids. And it's a judgment free zone. Then he lets my youngest and sometimes both boys at the same time talk to him about their own stress factors, bullying, worries etc. through creative play. We all come away lighter and better for having gotten all that bad juujuu off our chests.
So why am I still having to defend my choices to other people who look at me like I'm crazy? Duh. Yes, I am. We are. That's why we go.
Moreover, I believe therapy is even more important in our isolated, social media saturated lives. There are less opportunities for my kids and I to talk about our anxieties and concerns with friends and loved ones. I used to dish my worries out over the phone to my best friend in two hour long conversations or aimless drives around town or over coffee. I even remember having a pillow fight with her where we shouted out our problems or the name of whatever toxic person was messing with our lives with each smack of the pillow. It was amazingly cathartic. But those face to face moments are fewer and farther between. And my kid's friendships seem based more on whether or not I am friends with the other kid's mother than any real common interest making for more shallow connections.
Plus, I come from a long line of crazy, and I'm not afraid to admit it. My dad was bi-polar and refused to take meds meaning I had to weather his ups and downs like a kid stuck on a permanent see-saw. My uncle was O.C.D and my mother had a touch of paranoia. And I will openly admit I suffered from bulimia in my twenties. A disease that I fought with the help of a therapist.
So, yes, I take my son to a therapist. Because I want to arm him with the skills necessary to deal with his anxieties so he doesn't end up another statistic of someone overwhelmed by their depression and fears who then ends his own life. I want him to grow up strong and emotionally healthy. Plus, I want to give him the outlet to talk to someone other than me. Someone with real tools and insight.
I just hope as a society, we can take away the taboos of therapy. The statistics are staring us in the face. Depression and anxiety are at all time highs.
No comments:
Post a Comment