The Strong Friend Who Asked For Help

I always felt like I didn’t owe anyone my story. In reality, I was embarrassed and still a little uncomfortable with how far I sank into a dark place. I am the “strong friend” that my friends and family come to vent to. I am even the friend that gives them motivation and makes them laugh. Nothing moves me, nothing shakes me. If they see me sad about anything which is rare, I’m back to talking, joking, and smiling the next day if not hour. That’s me on the surface at least. They didn’t know my social efforts were contrived. Just like you, I am a gem who has many facets. Unbeknownst to a lot of my family and friends, some of those sides were darker than others. Although I am grateful for my life, it wasn’t an easy one at all. I pushed myself through pain and focused on moving forward by telling myself that the future is going to be so much better. Everything that I ever went through will be worth it. Then the future came. I sat there, post-graduation feeling unfulfilled in what I worked so hard towards, whilst being drained from yet another disappointing, failed, romantic relationship. My phone buzzing with people who needed my help when I didn’t even have the energy to wash my own hair. The cloud of obligation raining down on me. Sallie Mae was mailing me consistently to remind me of the promise I made them almost 4 years ago.  The tactic I used to push forward “The future is going to make up for everything” no longer worked because here I was. I never felt so stagnant. When I closed my eyes and try to visualize the future, it looked gray. Fear slowly flooded in and I blocked it with everything I could think of. I listened to music, worked out, watched motivational speeches, said my affirmations but for the first time in my life I realized that this wasn’t enough. I can’t get myself out of this one by myself. As independent as I think I am, I am no island. I was so use to self-medicating myself I didn’t realize that I was really just living in a land of avoidance.  I couldn’t read it away, write it away, drink it away, or fuck it away. Nothing was enough. Nothing felt good anymore. I felt like I was just existing.

I told my friends that I won’t be answering the phone for a while. I didn’t want to see anyone. I had no more kick-it tickets. Not only did I just want to be alone to recharge and have that alone time to just remember who I was again, I didn’t have the energy to be their strong friend let alone anyone’s friend right now. I hate to minimize people’s problems, but I cringed at listening to theirs. Their problems always had an indication of hope at the end. Mine didn’t seem to. My friends got too heavy for me to carry. I was holding on to my own sanity by the skin of my teeth. I stopped answering text and calls. The phone rang anyway regardless how many warnings I gave. They couldn’t understand how I was trying to heal and for the first time I didn’t care to even explain. I sat on the edge of the bed with a fifth of E&J with no chaser. I finally accepted the fact that it was time for professional help.

I was friends on social media with this man who wrote this powerful self-help book. It's called "iRise". His quotes always hit me like a ray of light. I was moved by every one of his post. He’s also a pastor at a church I left as a child. However, he’s absolutely in no way, shape, or form, like the typical church-people you hear about. His life has balance, he’s not judgmental at all, listens, and speaks from a place of wisdom and good intention. It’s funny how God just places people in your life and when it’s time for their season, they emerge. I messaged him on Facebook. I asked, “Out of curiosity, do pastors offer counseling or is that just a myth?” He answered my question then ended with “Do you need it?”. As soon as he said that, my pride peeked around the corner. I took another swig of Brandy for liquor courage to say “Yes”. He schedules to meet with me the very next day.

I was nervous, but I knew I could trust him with my mental health. The next day, I drove hungover to the church that I vaguely remembered as a kid. He meets me at the front and we walk into his office. I had no clue what to expect. He insisted I drink some water, and then we got started. He opened with a little bit about himself. Enough to make me feel comfortable. Then he asked me some things about me and different stages of my life so that he can get acclimated into my world and know what we needed to work on. Some things I didn’t realize I had an emotion behind until we dove into them. It is imperative you talk to someone who you feel is authentic and that you can trust because as I spoke with him, I felt as though I was talking to MY strong friend. It was my turn to vent without worrying if I am being a burden. A few hours went by and we concluded out first session. He gave me a packet that was filled with some pretty heavy questions that I had to answer and bring back the next week. 

When I got home. I sat in my dark room and filled it out honestly because I knew I would be doing a disservice to myself if I didn’t speak-up. It asked me about what emotions applied to me, my family, and what kind of traumatic things or emotions have my family and I brushed paths with. Then the last question asked me to explain why I am there and what feelings brought me here IN DETAIL. Seeing it on paper was clarifying but extremely rough. I explained how the sun was annoyingly too bright. Music just sounds like noise. Food taste like salt. TV is repetitive. Nothing feels good anymore. I have no more patience for people and conversation. I ran out of fuck-bucks, I didn’t have the energy to care anymore. Sometimes I wish the sun would just explode. I try to sleep as much as I can just so I don’t have to feel anything when I do. Melatonin has been like candy to me. I try to change my situation, but my efforts seem empty. Seeing that on paper ripped my chest apart. Those were my true feelings. After a few days, I felt a little lighter. As weeks went by, everything I skipped through in the land of avoidance I was living in, we knocked down together, head-on. I wasn’t storing my pain anymore. It was actually gone. My shoulders started to feel different. I physically felt lighter. My own thoughts no longer exhausted me. The sun was pretty. Frogs were kind of cute. I felt like a friend again, a daughter again, I felt alive again. I didn’t have to fight on my own. You don’t either. 

If this sounds familiar to you, find a pastor you can trust to counsel you. Call your insurance company to see what kind of resources does your insurance cover for therapy, or even find free-resources online to talk to someone. Just please talk to someone. Us strong friends are always pouring into others, allow someone to pour into you. Life was never meant for you to take on alone and it doesn’t make you any less strong getting assistance. It’s a process but it will save your life. Give yourself permission to heal.