My Journey Through Depression: Leaving, Returning, and Finding Therapy

Does therapy really work? Was one of the questions I asked a social worker 3 mins after I had walked into her office. Of course, she was one of those with thick glasses and a bored expression (underpaid goverment social worker i thought to myself). 

“I don’t know,” she replied, her voice monotone, in response to my inquiry about the effectiveness of therapy. It was a simple answer, yet it echoed loudly in the confines of that small room. In that moment, I felt a flicker of hope diminish within me. If even the professionals weren’t sure, what chance did I have?

How It All Started before ‘ Does Therapy Really Work?’

But let me backtrack a bit. My journey through depression has been anything but straightforward. There were moments of fleeting happiness interspersed with long stretches of darkness. I had left once, thinking I could outrun the shadows that seemed to constantly haunt me. But as life would have it, I found myself back in the same place, staring at the same bleak reality.

Number 1 Mistake I did: Leaving

Leaving wasn’t a decision I made lightly. It was a desperate attempt to escape the suffocating grip of depression that seemed to tighten with each passing day. At 20, I found myself packing my bags and convinced myself that a change of scenery would be the antidote to my distress. Yet, no matter how far I traveled, the weight of my emotions followed me like a relentless shadow.

Number 2 Mistake I did: Feeling Like a Defeat

Returning home was both humbling and disheartening. It felt like admitting defeat, like surrendering to an adversary that had bested me time and time again. But amidst the self-doubt and despair, there was a glimmer of determination – a faint whisper urging me to seek help, to confront my demons head-on.

It Took me 2 Years to The Answer to: Does Therapy Really Work?

And so, 2 years later, I found myself back in that dimly lit office, facing an indifferent gaze of another social worker. Despite her lack of attention (she was constantly on the phone), I knew deep down that I couldn’t give up on the possibility of healing. I owed it to myself to at least try.

The Journey: Therapy Helps ?

I embarked on a journey into therapy, unsure of what to expect but willing to embrace any sliver of hope it offered. It wasn’t easy – confronting years of buried pain and unraveling the tangled mess of my thoughts felt like navigating a labyrinth with no clear path forward. But with each session, I found myself inching closer to the light at the end of the tunnel.

Therapy wasn’t a quick fix or a magical cure-all. It was messy and uncomfortable, forcing me to confront aspects of myself that I’d long ignored or suppressed. There were moments of frustration and tears, moments where I questioned whether it was worth the effort. But beneath the surface, subtle shifts were taking place – tiny seeds of self-awareness and acceptance beginning to take root within me.

Progress: Therapy Does Help

Slowly but surely, I began to see glimpses of progress. The heavy fog of depression started to lift, replaced by moments of clarity and peace. I learned to recognize and challenge the negative thought patterns that had once held me captive, replacing them with healthier, more empowering beliefs.

Today, I can’t say that I’m completely free from the clutches of depression. It’s still a part of me, woven into the fabric of my being in ways that I’ll likely never fully understand. But through therapy, I’ve learned to coexist with my demons – to acknowledge their presence without allowing them to dictate my life.

So, does therapy really work? It’s a question I still grapple with from time to time. But if my journey is any indication, then yes – it does. Not in the sense of providing a quick fix or a miracle cure, but in offering a lifeline to those drowning in despair. It’s a journey fraught with challenges and setbacks, but one that ultimately leads to healing and hope. And for that, I am eternally grateful.