I started therapy because after years of silence and wanting to be able to speak to someone about what I was actually thinking and what was really going on, I was more than ready. There were times I thought I'd implode from just wanting to say "Hey, I'm hurting." I always thought that if you knew how to talk you knew how to explain what's happening to you...all I needed was an opportunity to be heard.

I was so wrong. I was surprised to discover my complete unawareness of my feelings, a lack of understanding of my needs and desires, and inability to admit the difficult things I never shared with anyone. In retrospect, it makes sense that if you never related to people that way before then you'd lack the skills to do so.

Finally finding myself in therapy after years of wanting it and discovering that I had no idea what to say and how to say it was a disappointment. I was never really able to let my guard down with my first T, but I was finally able to start sharing painful thoughts after 7 months of seeing my second T.

I thought that once I talked about what's bothering it would be cathartic, but I didn't realize just how much work I'd have to do so that I could even start talking and that just talking about it isn't really enough.