CBT? what is that?

December 6th

Today is my first day of “CBT” therapy as mom called it. I looked it up because I wanted to know what I was about to get myself into. I figured out it is actually called cognitive behavioral therapy. It sounded kind of confusing at first, but I don’t think it will be too bad.

As I walked through the doors if the faded brick building, I felt super nervous. I am going to have to sit with someone and talk? I don’t remember the last time I’ve done that. I usually just choose to write my feelings on here instead. Is this lady going to think I’m being dramatic? Maybe I am just overthinking and there is nothing wrong with me. I started to sweat and I tried to block out the thoughts.

I was greeted by a lady at the desk that has a great big smile and bright eyes. She seemed so happy. I gave a soft smile back and told her my name to check in. She explained a few things and handed me off with a clipboard stacked with papers. She sent me to the fake-wood chairs aligned in a row, just a few steps from the desk. I sat down and filled out the papers. Soooo many questions.

The therapist came out and greeted me. We went into a room that had a couch, a desk, and a few comfy chairs. It was a pretty welcoming room I have to say, that made me a little less nervous. She asked me questions about my past, and how my feelings of sadness developed. She then asked me what I would like to address today. As we talked, I slowly began to open up as I could sense that this stranger did it fact care for me and wanted me to start feeling better. She gave me advice and explained that I should have absolutely no shame for feeling the way I do. She suggested different ways I can start to think more positively about myself and and others. She also asked me about my stressors and gave me tips and some ways that I can cope with them in a healthier way.

After chatting with me for over an hour, she told me that I seem to be exhibiting symptoms of Major Depressive Disorder. Although, she said she wants to have more sessions with me before she clinically diagnoses me. From the research I’ve done on my own time, I’m not surprised that she’s telling me this.

The session concluded and she helped me to schedule another appointment for next week. She explained to me that this is a long process and I have many appointments ahead of me. She shook my hand and walked me out.

Mom asked me how it went when I got in the car and for the first time in a while, I looked over at her and I said “it went great!” She smiled and we drove away.

I know this is just the beginning of my recovery journey, but man it feels good.