Once again, life has taught me that words I thought held a stigma or meant one thing actually don't really mean all that much. They are just, you know...words.
About six months ago I started attending a therapy group. I went out of desperation, because I was feeling low and really struggling with some things. A friend of mine sent me the information, and at first when I received it I was a little offended. She thinks I need group therapy? Whatttt???
I quickly realized she was just trying to help. And also that group therapy isn't a bad sort of place. Attending does not mean I am somehow broken, nor is it a blatant acknowledgement that I am unable to cope with life. (Note: I can't cope with life sometimes and that's okay...)
It's a place of healing. It's a place I've found others who are dealing with the same things I am. I'm not alone. All the women in my therapy have supported me in some manner, and I hope I also have supported them. They are wonderful living breathing women who are struggling with infertility, miscarriage and child loss, just like me. Their stories are wonderfully poignant and moving and I am touched that they have chosen to share them with others.
I went because I was bitter and searching and desperate. I found healing and a place of acceptance.
So if you are thinking about therapy, and if you are scared or feeling vulnerable--don't let that stop you. Go. We are all hurting, we are all experiencing disappointment and sorrow as we traverse this thing called life. We all make mistakes. And we've all been let down by others. There should be no shame in attending. Coming together, hearing stories of others who are walking the same path--it really helps. And I'm not ashamed, nor do I feel lesser in some way. I love my little group, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Now if only there was a therapy group for people "unable to finish writing a novel". Because I would also attend that.