It's hard to explain how certain things begin. For me, it was just a feeling. Something is not right. I don't like this. I'm in a bad place.
At that point, I had already had a major panic attack. I needed Aimee to pick me up after work because my stomach was aching heavily and I had trouble breathing. My dad had passed away a few years prior. I was living in a new city (Los Angeles) with in-laws. Work itself was being abusive. I was exhausted by my family. I was reading up on narcissism, both as a trait and a personality disorder. I was diving into the realm of psychology and mental health. And I was miserable.
I didn't know exactly what to do, but Aimee was already seeing a therapist and three of us were starting to explore what it means to be mentally healthy. So certain ideas were there. Additionally, I was starting to think about things like "healthy mind", "past abuse", "damage", "hurt", "pain", etc., but I couldn't connect them together into anything cohesive. These subjects were never discussed around me before. All I knew is I didn't like where I was at... and that I didn't want to end up like my mom. *maybe that means something.*
After the panic attack, months of worry on the job, and going no contact with my mom, I finally decided I needed to find a therapist too. This was something I had never done before, but the pain made it mandatory. So that's what I did...
Comentários