Saturday, May 28, 2011

A window into my mind

Lately my life has consisted of endless reflection. Why did I say that? Why did I do that? Why did things turn out in this way? I ask those questions out of curious introspection—not out of sadness or regret.

Anyone who knows me well knows that I love to self-analyze. I love to figure out exactly why I would have acted a certain way or would have said a certain thing. I like to figure out what past experiences and current life stressors drive my thoughts and actions. Talk to me a week after any “life crisis” I may have told you about and I will have a detailed explanation (possibly a myriad of interconnected explanations) for why things turned out the way they did and what I am going to do to heal, process, and change those outcomes in the future.

This might all sound fine and dandy, but let me let you in on a secret. This is exhausting.
I do come at all these things with the perspective that everything happens for a reason to better prepare me for the future. However, with a handful of super stressful, heartbreaking, and life changing events happening within a month of each other (sometimes even a week of each other) over the past few months of my life—I am exhausted. I am sick of analyzing. I am sick of venting all of my worries onto my roommates (and anyone who happens to be within 10 feet of me). It is getting a little silly if you ask me. I am sick of losing sleep and sick of the anxiety.

So what’s next you ask? I called someone. I scheduled an appointment with a trusted Seattle counselor. I have not gone crazy, folks. I have always spouted off that everyone would benefit from some healthy time talking to a certified counselor or therapist. I am finally following my own advice and seeking someone’s insight other than my own.

My psychology background is screaming at me to make some sense of my scattered, sleepless thoughts. I cannot wait to talk to someone and have her point out different parts of my negative lines of reasoning. I cannot wait to have someone stop me and say “you are wrong.” Yes, mom and dad, I am actually excited to have someone tell me I am wrong. Maybe I have gone crazy.

Despite what I know about psychologists through studying psychology in undergrad, I still have my misconceptions about Freudian psychoanalysis and talking about my “daddy issues.” These are the misconceptions that have kept me from chatting with a counselor before now. I am choosing to set aside my prejudice and choosing to move forward.

Either way, I feel healthy. Too exhausted to continue introspection on my own, but healthy nonetheless. That is something I am proud of and am so thankful for that bit of peace.
On another note—this next week marks my last week of my first year (out of 2) of graduate school! Holy smokes.

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