Acknowledging I had hit rock bottom

I arrived a little early and sat in the waiting area, gathering my thoughts. I was still struggling with a sense of failure because I’d reached the point of going to therapy, but I knew in my heart it was what I needed to do.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. Have you ever worked with a therapist?”

I stood and shook Hellen’s hand. “It’s a pleasure meeting you as well. I have worked with an executive coach, which I suppose can be like therapy, but this is my first time trying to get the root of my emotions.” Hellen led the way to her office. She chuckled as she acknowledged that executive coaching could feel like therapy to some. I took in her office. There was a cream chenille couch and two brown leather club chairs. I chose the club chair closest to the window. It afforded a view that I hoped would bring a sense of calm. It’s not that the window gave me a great view; I only saw rooftops, treetops, and the sky. Like the uncluttered sky, content to allow the fluffy clouds to pass by, I had a premonition that I needed to remove as much chaos as possible from my mind during these sessions. “Would you prefer that I ask questions to direct the conversation, or do you want to tell me your story?”

I shrugged. “I’m neither here nor there; why don’t we just let it unfold as it goes?”

Hellen smiled. “Tell me a bit about yourself.”

It was a bit unnerving seeing her prepare to make notes. I took a breath, wondering briefly how detailed I needed to be, then started babbling with one of the worst cases of verbal diarrhea I had experienced in a long time.

“I’m happily married with a son I adore. My husband, James, is my rock. I think I would have crashed earlier if I didn’t have such a strong support system. We’ve been married for almost nineteen years and together for ten years before getting married.”

“Our son, Sawyer, is our miracle baby,” I continued. “We had him later in life: I was almost thirty-eight, so we’re extra lucky to have him. We actually found out I was pregnant four days before a meeting with a fertility specialist. James was out of town visiting his parents. Something felt weird, so I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. I didn’t believe it, so like a good scientist, I did the test in triplicate to improve the statistical significance. All three tests were positive.”

When I met with my doctor, I recalled how she said, “congratulations, but don’t get excited. There is a good chance you will miscarry, but let’s get the blood work drawn and hopefully, it will be sent to the fertility doctor before your appointment in a few days.” The doctor was right; I told Hellen: It was like the stars had aligned, and I was put on hormone therapy for the next twelve weeks with weekly blood work in hopes that I would be able to carry the baby to term. I was lucky, and everything turned out as it was meant to be. “I was never really sure I wanted to be a mother, but as soon as I laid eyes on Sawyer, it was love at first sight.”

I took a breath, looked out the window, and composed myself. “I think I knew this was coming,” I said, recounting how there was a block when I was working with my executive coach, Jenny. I had wondered then if I needed therapy and if there was more going on than I was willing to admit.

“I was intent on being strong. My mom has struggled with depression over the years. As much as I love her, I guess I felt that she was weaker than I was. It’s not that I think she’s weak,” I clarified. “My mom’s one of the strongest women I know. She left nursing and went back to school for business when I was in grade four and redefined who she was.

“And this was a woman who certainly did not have the easiest upbringing. She had a mother who had exacting standards. Everyone knew when they fell short. My mom’s younger brothers were eight and ten years younger. In many ways, she had to grow up faster than she should have and missed out on being young and free. I think that is what I mean by weaker. She didn’t have the advantages that I had growing up. I had a stable family. I had parents that I knew loved me and supported me in anything I wanted to try.”

I was reaching a crux. “I guess to me; depression occurred to people that had trauma or an unstable upbringing or some form of abuse, even if that abuse was being treated like a servant, a nanny or au pair.” I took a sip of water and told Hellen how Jenny had repeatedly spoken of misalignment with my job or the rest of the leadership team I was on. The coaching came with an Executive Leadership Course we’d all taken and included a 360-degree feedback review. “My colleagues certainly did not hold back in what they thought of me – well, some of them, anyway.” I paused. Hellen chimed in with another prompt, “Was there a point in time when things changed?”

“I hate to blame any one person or situation. I don’t want to say I’m an empath, but I feel everyone’s emotions. When I walk into a room, I can tell how people feel – happy or sad if there’s tension or disdain. It can be exhausting.” I sipped more water, uncrossed and recrossed my legs. I could feel the tears welling up from the burning in my eyes. They would start to flow soon. “Over the last year, I have felt like a failure in the role I was put in. I knew it was not the right fit for me but thought I could show them I had more to offer than many thought. I hadn’t realized that while we talked about being boundaryless at work (that is, completely free with our suggestions, observations and critiques), that included my colleagues pointing out what I was doing wrong or how I could improve things-- but never the other way around. I had not expected that while I was granted permission to make changes face-to-face in meetings, things were being said behind my back.”

Hellen, who had been writing the entire time, stopped. She held my gaze for a moment before she spoke. “You are highly sensitive. Empaths absorb emotions, both positive and negative. These emotions can become overwhelming, particularly in situations of conflict.”

The dam broke. The tears that I had managed to hold at bay started streaming down my cheeks. I tried to wipe them away.

Originally published on November 22, 2020 (https://girlintheredhatblog.wordpress.com/)