I moved under emotional duress. That’s the best way to state it. I needed an immediate change and that seemed one of the best ways to get it.
I’ve done pretty well since the move and that makes me feel pretty good.
When I met with my bishop on my first Sunday back and explained my reasons for moving back, he suggested I meet with a counselor again to gain a little more help and a step up.
It was something I’d considered for a bit, but knew I wasn’t in a position to afford something like that. He indicated the ward would cover costs from fast offerings, and I promised I’d make the best use of the sessions I could.
I didn’t expect to be sitting back in a counselor’s office again. When I stopped in November, I didn’t expect to need more structured help. But here I sit.
Feelings rush through my mind, beating the walls of my thought-paths. Am I a failure because I’m asking for help again? Is this a sign of weakness? Should I be overcome with anxiety because I can’t handle my life without more structured guidance?
I talked with a very dear and trusted friend late into Monday morning a few days ago. She said something that has helped me understand my struggles a bit better.
Therapy isn’t for people who need it the most. Therapy is for people who want it, who want to change and improve but don’t know how.
That gave me hope. I don’t know how to help myself right now, but I want help.
Asking for it is a sign of strength, a sign I want to improve.