My Experience With PTSD Therapy. (Mental Health Awareness part- 3)

With the cognitive behavioural therapy finished, I was in a good place. I felt that my mood was better than it had been in a very long time. And with this, my anxieties dropped to almost none existent. (Which reminds me of something. When I first began therapy, I asked my therapist to make my anxiety go away. I now know that anxiety is a very natural and human thing. Anxiety is always there, in some shape or form. It’s something that is embedded into our system. What matters about anxiety is the level of it, and our ability to manage it.) From my CBT, I had learned many things and felt equipped to deal with my thoughts in a positive way. I felt different. I was me, but a different me. I felt confident in myself and my abilities. I felt happy. But despite this, something still lingered. There were still moments where my mood changed instantly. These moments wouldn’t last long, but they were intense and would often leave me feeling physically exhausted.

My Experience With Cognitive Therapy. (Mental Health Awareness part- 2)

As I sat in the waiting room, my heart pounded in my chest as I focused on controlling my unsteady breathing. I’d had many panic attacks before, so controlling one wasn’t much of a concern. Not even in an unknown place surrounded by unknown people. Luckily, my therapy appointment was very early in the morning, so I had forgone the terrifying necessity of alerting the reception to my presence. Yes, such a thing is an easy task for the majority of people. But in my anxiety-wracked mind, uttering “Hello, I’m here to see blah blah at blah blah,” would have been quite the challenge. And it would have been for a lot of people. Especially anybody else suffering with an anxiety disorder...

My Experience With Cognitive Therapy. (Mental Health Awareness Part- 1)

So, where do I start this? I guess the beginning would be a good start. But in truth, I don’t really know where it began. My problems happened so gradually that they seemed like a natural progression. Like they were just part of my growing up and part of me. And I guess in a way, they were. Mental illness is not something that we choose. It is something that builds. It builds ever so slightly until we begin to feel its weight. Then over time, that weight becomes almost unbearable. I think that this is something that most forms of mental illness have in common. But absolutely no form of the illness is our choice...