I was never what you’d call a worrier as a kid. Sure, I worried about how I’d do in school and whether the other kids would like me or my hair, but things didn’t get to me the way they did with my friends. I was always good about taking things as they were.
A couple years ago, I found myself worrying about things. It was such a strange feeling, because like I said, I wasn’t a worrier. I drove less, because I worried about accidents. Every time Mom called, I’d panic a little, assuming something bad had happened. I’d lay awake in the middle of the night with thoughts swirling through my brain. Worries about the strangest things. I’ve even driven all the way home because I thought I might have left something on in the kitchen.
I was sleeping less, so I had less energy. A lot less energy. My friends would want to go out in the evening, and I’d have to force myself to join them. At some point, I noticed that my normal glass of chardonnay with the girls had become two. They another when I got back home as I scrolled through my socials. I was doing a lot more of that, too.
Prayed? All the time, and with a little more desperation as I went on. How many times can you ask God to help make you feel better before you start getting angry? I’m not asking you to cure some big disease … I just want to stop feeling this way.
Then Bridget got in my face, God bless that girl. She said they were having trouble recognizing me and knew something had to be wrong. They said … sorry, need a moment … they said they thought I should be seeing someone. I mean, a counselor … and I was really hurt. Bad. How could they say that about me? I didn’t know how to respond so I told her I didn’t know how someone finds someone like that … and that’s when she told me about Care to Change.
It was hard to make that first appointment. I mean, I was raised to believe God answers prayers, but all this praying clearly wasn’t working, and was I pushing God away if I shared what’s happening with some counselor? But God wasn’t helping me, so maybe I was believing in the wrong things. I read my counselor’s profile on their website … and she didn’t look judgmental … so I set it up.
I had no idea what to expect. I could envision the receptionist rolling her eyes like all “here comes the next crazy” and all that. But it wasn’t like that at all. It wasn’t like a doctor’s office. It was warm and soothing … I still remember the scent they used in the lobby because I went out and bought some. The woman at the desk greeted me like we’d known each other for years. We made that awkward small talk while I waited. The place was so quiet I said I must be the only one here. She laughed and said there were three other sessions going on.
It didn’t take long before I felt comfortable with my counselor. I still can’t believe everything I told her in that first appointment. And no, she wasn’t judgmental … and if she really thought I was as crazy as I felt, she was doing a good job of hiding it. I left feeling calmer than I could remember, and excited about the next appointment. She gave me what she called “homework” to think about before then.
I started seeing my counselor in May. I know I have more work to do, but I can’t put into words how different I feel. We talk so openly, and I can bring anything up without her thinking I’m a bad person. I also appreciate the way she’ll weave stories from the Bible in during our sessions. I’ve reread a lot of scripture afterwards. Sometimes we do activities and art during sessions, too – and I am not at all an artist. She said it helps access different parts of my brain, and, it actually helps.
I wish I would have found my counselor when I first noticed I was feeling bad. I know I would have slept more comfortably the past couple years and cut way back on the chardonnay. And besides, who needs the chardonnay when you’re feeling happy and calm? Sometimes I feel like a kid again.
If you’re even wondering if getting a counselor is right for you, let me tell you, it is. I don’t know what you’re feeling or dealing with, but a counselor will help you better understand and manage it. You might even start liking yourself. Seriously, if you’re struggling, reach out. I’m convinced this is how God answers prayers.
