by Guest Poster #1
The door swings shut behind me as I leave my therapist's office. My eyes dart ahead, scanning the sidewalk, wary of glimpsing someone I know. Praying the coast is clear, I hurry down to the street, stuffing my headphones into my ears so that it looks like I've been walking along for a while. Already filling my mind are excuses for why I'm on this street, should I encounter someone I know. "I had a doctor's appointment”, "Wanted some exercise”, "Going to the book store”, "Going to Starbucks”, "Meeting a friend”… The list is endless — my arsenal of lies that I am ready to deploy at any moment.
But why do I do this? Why do I feel a need to lie and hide the fact that I see a therapist?
Talking about mental health in our culture is a taboo, a scary uncomfortable discussion that people shy away from. It’s become the silent and mysterious unknown that people are afraid to talk about, almost as if they are worried they will somehow become “one of those people” if they so much as mention it in a conversation.
But that’s just ridiculous. Just like you can’t catch the chicken pox from talking about it, your mental health won’t deteriorate if you discuss the issue. So, are we simply afraid of putting our proverbial feet in our mouths and saying something potentially offensive or ignorant while having these discussions? Or is there a deeper issue here?
We live in a society in which we pride ourselves on being self sufficient and independent and feel shame when we "stoop" to a level at which we must ask others for help. I personally am afraid of the stigma and assumptions people will make about me if they know I see a therapist. I’m ashamed that I need help. And I’m angry that my culture makes me feel that way.
Because the thing is, if someone had a broken leg, they would have no qualms about going to the doctor and getting it set. The thought that they should "wait it out", "fix it themselves", or “get over it” is absurd!
So why do so many people have these same thoughts about mental health?
But why do I do this? Why do I feel a need to lie and hide the fact that I see a therapist?
Talking about mental health in our culture is a taboo, a scary uncomfortable discussion that people shy away from. It’s become the silent and mysterious unknown that people are afraid to talk about, almost as if they are worried they will somehow become “one of those people” if they so much as mention it in a conversation.
But that’s just ridiculous. Just like you can’t catch the chicken pox from talking about it, your mental health won’t deteriorate if you discuss the issue. So, are we simply afraid of putting our proverbial feet in our mouths and saying something potentially offensive or ignorant while having these discussions? Or is there a deeper issue here?
We live in a society in which we pride ourselves on being self sufficient and independent and feel shame when we "stoop" to a level at which we must ask others for help. I personally am afraid of the stigma and assumptions people will make about me if they know I see a therapist. I’m ashamed that I need help. And I’m angry that my culture makes me feel that way.
Because the thing is, if someone had a broken leg, they would have no qualms about going to the doctor and getting it set. The thought that they should "wait it out", "fix it themselves", or “get over it” is absurd!
So why do so many people have these same thoughts about mental health?
It’s not my fault that I need to see a therapist, that I need help dealing with the stress in my life right now. It does not make me “weak” or “messed-up”. It does not make me “lesser” or even “unstable”. It means I’m an imperfect human, as prone to the ups and downs of life as the next person.
When I was finally able to confide in one of my friends about the struggles I’d been going through, he said he was really proud of me for reaching out and asking for help. He told me that asking for help was the bravest thing I could do. If that’s true, then why do I still feel shame?
When I was finally able to confide in one of my friends about the struggles I’d been going through, he said he was really proud of me for reaching out and asking for help. He told me that asking for help was the bravest thing I could do. If that’s true, then why do I still feel shame?
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