How Therapy Changed My Life

I’ve never had a good relationship with my mum. I don’t want to bore you with the details, but needless to say, she was cold with me during my childhood, meanwhile she showered my younger sister with attention and love, so I ended up being this flower left in the shed, reaching for the warm light of her gaze. Oh well. During my teenage years, she wasn’t there when I needed her most, and ever since then, I more or less called it quits. I moved across the country as soon as I could, and have managed to build a life there over the past 7 years.

At first, I didn’t really think much of it. I just wanted to move on with my life. But then, I met new people – including my boyfriend – who have these perfect, ideal family relationships, which only makes the differences between their parents and mine more stark. I’ve had time to reflect and distance myself from the whole thing, but whenever I’ve gone back home over the holidays or just to visit, it all comes rushing back. Even if my mum isn’t as bad as she used to be, she still refuses to recognise anything hurtful that she said or did.

Frustrated, angry, upset, anxious, I didn’t know what to do next. As much as I hate to admit it, I was first exposed to the benefits of therapy through social media. I remember  scrolling one day and happening across a video where someone discussed their own challenges, and how therapy gave them a healthy dialogue with each of them.

‘So screw it,’ I thought, ‘I’ll give it a go.’ 

I tried cognitive behaviour therapy first, which was designed to equip me with strategies that can support me and reinforce positive thoughts and behaviours. And I gave it a really good go. 12 weeks of sessions overall, and I did all of my homework, too. But – I don’t really know why – it wasn’t quite right for me. In hindsight, it’s probably because the CBT overcomplicated matters a bit. I just needed to vent and talk things through.

Which is why I next tried some good, old-fashioned counselling. Eventually – after 9 months on the waiting list, at least. This is where things started to turn around. I was given the space and time to get everything out there in a structured way, and guided to reckon with each of my challenges one on one. It also gave me new insights on why I react the way that I do, and how I can respond to similar situations in the future. 

It was reassuring, liberating, and left me optimistic about my future. So one month later, when I received a scolding from my dear mother about her ‘not knowing me as an adult’ because I moved away, I didn’t respond angrily. I just asked her what she wanted to know, and something unexpected happened. We started talking about me – and she was genuinely interested. Sure, it doesn’t mean she’s willing to take responsibility of any of her actions, but I’ve made my peace with the fact that she probably never will. Revisiting those old photo books may always be difficult, but we can give it a shot and try and build a positive relationship now.