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Whispers Of Resilience

A few days ago, I found myself looking up how do you know if you have a diagnosable anxiety disorder on the internet. I don't like playing doctor, but I was way past my tipping point. And while the search did not prove to be particularly useful, it did open my eyes to the fact that I need help. Real, sit-on-a-couch help.

I have spent a significant portion of my life dealing with issues by myself. I don't always do a good job, but I have managed to get myself across the finish line each time so far. While I believe this was instrumental in gaining the strength and self-reliance I know I possess, it is only now dawning on me how much I have been asking for, from myself. Maybe so much so, that I exhausted all my reserves, and started losing the battle against everyday life.

It's fortunate that we're living in times where organizations across the globe offer mental wellbeing perks to their employees. If they didn't, I probably would have continued on a doomed path. But, and I think I'm proud of myself for being able to say this, I availed the counseling that is offered to me by my employee assistance program. It's embarrassing how little I know about this process, but I hope I will, at the very least, be more informed by the time I am through.

In addition to all my quirks, I have trouble establishing trust with people, which was a primary reason why I always believed therapy might never work for me. I could not have imagined myself opening up to a stranger about my deepest apprehensions. Until today. It's amazing how an overburdened mind will try just about anything to restore its sanity. With an empathetic individual across my screen, a long conversation, and probing questions, after a long time, I feel, not quite as overwhelmed. I'm sure it's not that easy, and that there is a long way to go. No solutions have been identified, no fixes deployed. But, the simple act of being able to talk and be heard, and, for once in life, be the center of focus of the interaction, was such a refreshing change of pace.

I have no doubt the process will come with its ups and downs. In fact, I'm fully prepared for the possibility of it not working out, or, at least a relapse. But, you know what? The thought of that is, albeit slightly, less scarier that it was yesterday, and that is enough for me to wake up tomorrow, and try again.

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Grateful and more, yes, but fuck my life.


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