I hate therapy. I’ve never been, but I already hate it. The concept of therapy does not make sense to me. I understand that individuals decide to go in order to heal (?), but the idea of “it gets worse before it gets better” is EXACTLY why I don’t want to go. Maybe I’m alright feeling this way, and maybe I don’t want to change. I really couldn’t care less what’s wrong with me. I’m also too scared to figure that out. I’m alright being me and the fear of that changing is the reason why I deny on going when I know logically that it’s something I should do.
I find people who do try to fix themselves as brave. They are willing to make that change and they so desperately want to be “fixed”. I don’t. The concept of finding out what’s really wrong with me TERRIFIES me. What if it’s something I can’t fix? What if my therapist literally hates me? What if my problems are so bad that they give up on me? Even I have some form of pride, and if I realize that I’m beyond help, imagine having to face that. The bubble I place myself in right now, is allowing me to thrive. I don’t think going out trying to FIND the issue is going to do anything. I learned to rip, leave it alone, and heal over it. I know that leaves a scar and isn’t as conventional as finding ointment leaving no scar; but hey, scars are personable! I learned how to do it this way, so who is anyone to tell me that it’s not okay? It’s gotten to the point where I learned to cope on a daily basis and this is just the way I was handed life. I came to terms with the short end of the stick.
Then every so often, I hear a part of my brain encouraging me to actually seek help. Maybe after a long conversation with a friend or receiving some life advice from my parents, a small portion of me realizes that I should give it a try… then fear consumes me and ends up cancelling those thoughts immediately. Even this sounds like I’m trying to convince myself that I’m okay. It sounds like a bargain of “do I really want to go?” and then blaming secular things like money being an issue.
I don’t hate therapy. I just hate the thought of finding out what’s wrong with me. For now, I can ignore what I don’t already know. When that decides to change, is the day I become lost.
