Mental Health

2020 achievement unlocked — I filed a claim for my most recent therapy session.

A few things made this possible. One was just having a better job — not only do I have energy I didn’t have before, but I have benefits that cover therapy. I actually forgot about this when I went back to check on old claims with my old insurance, and why I opted for an HSA in the first place. Also helped that the site for my new healthcare is a lot easier to use than my old one.

Is this what it feels like when your employer takes care of you? Is this the fabled workplace of yesteryear that my parents’ generation used to depend on?

I was trying to figure out if I should go back to therapy. If I do, I want to have a plan in place. Something to work on. I haven’t been in a position before where therapy was something that I could regularly have — I mostly just saved up money for when I really needed it, such as going through rough relationships or enduring shitty jobs.

My partner and I are learning what it’s like to work at companies that care in substantive ways. Sometimes that reaction is surprising — I was stressed out this weekend after our company party and when I talked to my mom about it, she suggested I was feeling guilty and I initially balked at that insinuation. Now that I have calmed down a bit, it doesn’t sound so far-fetched. Either way, she suggested I go back to therapy to talk about it and this might be a good starting topic.

I had a breakdown yesterday — it was the last hours of a long day, that long day being the last day of a long month. So as I descended into a ball of snot and tears, two primary emotions came to the forefront.

I am dumb

I can’t measure up to the company I keep. The gap between them and me is too great — there’s no way I can catch up. They’re all doing amazing things and I struggle with the most basic. That includes this mental illness. Why can’t I be smart enough to beat this? Why is it so irrational, but I still can’t outthink it?

I am a burden

I should remove myself from the company I keep. I’m only holding them back — they give me their precious time out of charity or pity, and I don’t know which is worse. Imagine the mental gymnastics they must do to call me their friend! I’ll be doing the world a service if I just go away.

Neither of those are true

I talked to my mom for an hour and a half last night. She really likes to talk — a trait I didn’t always appreciate growing up, but now it is exactly what I need for times like this. We talked about growing up as an immigrant, how my sister and I are similar and different, about what Mom went through when Dad passed away, cartoons. My mom likes her goofy metaphors, something I now understand I got from her — she likened my current situation to being flattened by an anvil. And even though I’m flattened, I’m just popping my feet back out and waddling around. My goal is to become 3D again.