Harry Potter & The Girl Who Asked for Help

They say the hardest part of fixing a problem is admitting there’s a problem. This is not the case for me. That’s the easiest part for me. I know there’s a problem, I know what the problem is. I even know how to fix the problem because I’ve paid several professionals to tell me how to fix the problem.

The hardest part of fixing the problem for me is sticking with the solution long enough to see results.

I can follow my meal plan for a couple weeks, work out a few times a day, and stick to my time blocking for a week but when that doesn’t result in immediate tangible results I get overwhelmed and quit. I don’t quit permanently though. I only quit until I’m overwhelmed with the things I wanted to change in the first place. Then I buy a new journal/tracker/system/pen (anything that makes it look like I’m getting my shit together) and set out creating a new plan.

Because that’s the problem right? It’s nothing to do with my lack of consistency. It’s the plan! It has to be something wrong with the plan otherwise it means there’s something wrong with me. Right?

But this time the quitting felt different. The hopelessness hit harder. And that was scary.

For the first time in a long time, I couldn’t see a path out of the dark and I knew it was time to get help.

I have my primary care doctor, personal trainers (Camp Gladiator) and a nutrition coach to help me with the physical health. I have an executive coach that helps me with my career development. Even though these people are highly qualified in their field, they’re not adequately equipped to help me address the underlying root of my issues.

For this I need a therapist.

After consulting my insurance company and finding out they aren’t going to cover a damn thing till I meet my ridiculous deductible, I started feeling really low. I wasn’t sure how I was going to afford this, even though I knew it was the exact piece of the puzzle that I needed.

I remember Harry Potter was playing in the background when I was reviewing the list of therapists my insurance company sent over. Dumbledore had just finished telling Harry that help would always be given to those who ask for it.

So I scheduled a consult with a therapist and trusted that help would come.

A week later my boss told me I was getting a 10% raise effective January 1st.

I remember reading in The Alchemist “When you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it.” I swear that never felt more true than in that moment. It was the first time all year I felt like things were falling into place.

Tonight I had the initial consult with my new therapist.

We start working together tomorrow.

Texts in the drafts

I unlocked my phone and opened my messages because I had something on my mind. But each time I started to write it out, I felt like it wasn’t something that person would want to hear. It felt rude to just dump my issues out on someone without warning so I thought about texting a simple “do you have emotional bandwidth to talk me through something?” but then I felt like people would worry about me and feel obligated to reply “yes” even if they didn’t. So I closed my phone and cried.

Crying happens a lot these days.

2020 has been an absolute shit show and somewhere in the middle of it all, I’ve lost of my tether on everything. All my goals and plans for reaching them just evaporated.

This fall feels familiar. The dark suffocating embrace of emptiness that I’ve managed to avoid for years is back. I’m having a hard time finding the point of it all anymore.

I can’t remember the last time I was happy and it’s getting harder and harder to pretend that everything is okay.