Helping Hands

One thing I have noticed from browsing around the blogosphere and chatting with people is the stigma that is attached to talking to a psychologist.  I suppose that's not surprising . . . when mental health professionals show up in pop culture they are usually either dealing with crazy people or they're crazy themselves.  Especially if they're from Gotham City.

EEK!

That's better . . . still crazy though.

There's also the emphasis that our culture puts on self-sufficiency.  Just like the stereotypical man who refuses to pull over to the side of the road to ask for directions, many people hate to admit when there's a problem that they can't quite solve themselves.  They think it makes them look weak.  Personally, I think this tendency is foolish and tragic.  You wouldn't think any less of a person with a sports injury if they saw a physical therapist, an expert in anatomy and physiology, would you?  If you had a toothache, you wouldn't think twice about seeing a dentist, a specialist of all things oral (don't go there).  So if you have some psychological troubles that are adversely affecting your life, why should it be so hard to go see a psychologist?  I look at therapy as just another possible tool that one can use to improve one's life, if needed.  Of course, since it costs money, other things should be considered first, such as consulting with friends and family, or keeping a journal (or blog).  But sometimes one can really benefit from the perspective of someone who helps people with their problems for a living.

I've been pretty open on this blog about how I've seen a psychologist.  After the first one I saw felt she didn't quite have the expertise I was looking for, she referred me to the one I'm seeing now.  I really like her.  We have similar personalities, so she can relate a lot to some of the things I talk about.  There are several things she does that I think are especially helpful:

1. She points out irrational or negative thinking patterns I have, or statements I make.
2. She congratulates me when she feels I've done something significant (helpful since my modesty keeps me from giving myself much credit).
3. She helps me to admit and come to terms with things that I might not have been able to do quite so easily otherwise.

These things demonstrate how an outside perspective can help us come to solutions that are normally not very accessible to us, since we are living within our own minds and seeing the world only through our own perspective.

I'm going to digress now and talk about a particular revelation that the therapist helped me to make recently.
One day I was describing to her a past friendship that I felt very strongly about.  This guy was my best friend, I wanted to be around him all the time, and I envisioned us being best friends for many years.  My feelings for this guy were actually one of the early things that got me questioning my sexuality.  Earlier this year, I had briefly mentioned these feelings to my friend "Janice" when I came out (?) to her.  She jokingly asked if I had been in love with him.  I adamantly denied it.  But recently, while talking to the therapist, I returned to the subject.  I mentioned how I wished I could have a friendship now like that one, one that I felt so strongly about.  The therapist suggested that what I was talking about sounded like love.  That got me thinking about it some more.

When I think back on that friendship in this new context, some things do seem to make some sense to me.  I did think he was attractive, though not being particularly sexually inclined at the time, I don't remember really fantasizing or anything.  But being around him made me happy.  Talking to him on the phone was exciting.  Hearing about his best friend back home made me jealous.  The time he almost ended up moving away was a time of mental turmoil.  I remember the time he spent the night at my parents' house, and the next day I took him to my favorite yogurt place.  I remember the video games we played, the TV shows we watched, the concerts we attended.  Could these feelings be explained by me simply being glad to have a best friend?  Sure, and that's how I interpreted at the time.  But the intensity of my feelings makes me wonder whether Janice and the therapist might be onto something.

After he left, I obsessed about our faded friendship for a long time.  I couldn't stand not having closure, not knowing why he wouldn't contact me.  Was it something I did? (it ended up having more to do with his own issues, such as depression).  In any case, as I've mentioned before on the blog, I finally reached him after 3 years of no contact, and we resumed being friends, only this time over a longer distance.  At this time, however, the dynamic is much different.  The rosy, idealized vision of him that I used to have is gone.  Without going into too much detail, I'll say that he has since proven that he can be quite the self-centered, unreliable flake.  I don't like feeling resentful towards friends though, so I hope to give him a call soon and maybe pay him a visit.

That was long-winded and quite personal, but I suppose that's what the purpose of this blog is, after all.  Just another tool in the toolbox.