Can we talk about therapy real quick?

Or I guess we should talk about why my blog has been drier than cracked hands during winter. Mmm, all of my posts start the same lately: “I’m doing this, I’m busy, blah blah, I’m discovering myself” (yes, we love a b*tch who calls herself out). Shit, I haven’t posted in so long that my hosting is about to expire. Is it even worth renewing? The answer is yes; I still want my footprint making small rounds.

But get this: I really am doing some deep healing and some groundwork. I am writing; I’m just not writing for you. I think writing for myself still counts, right?

Let’s talk about it

Anyway, today I want to talk about therapy [insert nail emoji]. Yes, I jumped on the bandwagon of therapy; apparently, all the cool kids are doing it. (This is me trying to make a sticky subject a little light.) No, but let’s be so for real—I’m so happy people are talking about it more. There is still a stigma around therapy, but from what I’ve seen, I think it’s getting a bit more normalized, and I think that’s awesome.

The first time I went to therapy was in 2018, and it was horrible. The therapist said to come back when I had real problems. Then I attempted therapy again through BetterHelp and tried three different therapists, but none of them were the “one.” I kind of gave up on my journey (this was now 2021). Fast forward to when I got pregnant in 2023—my brain chemistry and mood were completely altered. We don’t have to get into my prenatal depression, but during my pregnancy, a nurse from my insurance (Aetna) called me to check in. I guess some insurance companies have a wellness program for pregnant women.

The nurse offered to enroll me in a program called Able To because of the way I was expressing my “mood.” It was an eight-week program for behavioral coaching specifically for pregnant women (at least, that’s how it was explained to me). The program consisted of meeting a therapist once a week, as well as a behavioral coach—two mental health sessions a week for eight weeks. I met my therapist through this program, and when it ended, I couldn’t part ways; she had helped me so much. Luckily, she was able to offer me resources for after the program and gave me the information for her private practice. I’ve had the same therapist for a little over a year now.

I guess you could say the rest was history.

What I work(ed) on in therapy

This is about to get personal… I don’t mean to be sarcastic, but [insert trigger warning here]—hey y’all, I’m making a hard subject kind of light.

• Besides the obvious prenatal depression which led to my postpartum depression, I started with that.
• Accepting my version of motherhood
• My fear of gun violence, car crashes, and abduction
• My circling thoughts of my loved ones dying
• My lack of chill and patience
• My attitude and judgmental view toward certain people
• How to deal with the grieving process of a life I never lived
• My past mistakes
• My relationships
• Forgiving people I hate

…And so much more

Well, that was a whirlwind of information you didn’t need about me, but that’s okay. I guess oversharing can be therapeutic in its own way. Maybe sharing this will encourage someone to take the leap and start therapy if they’ve been too scared to. Or maybe I’ll help someone feel more “normal.” We all have our demons, and I think it’s time we start embracing them. Just because we have some doesn’t mean we can’t tame them. Rewiring our brains, as I’ve learned, takes years of practice, but you don’t know what you don’t know. You can’t work on something without the tools to do it. And that’s what therapy gives me—the tools to work on my fluctuating, miswired brain.

I’m not saying that you specifically need therapy, and God forgive me if I offended anyone, but if you’re just curious and fighting your own personal battles, it doesn’t hurt to look into it. I’d like to note that I have no idea how I would have survived my first year of motherhood without my therapist and her constant reassurance that I’m not crazy and I’m not a bad mother. Sometimes, all you need is reassurance that you’re okay.

One final note: you’re not alone, and I’ll be sharing a few tips my therapist has taught me in my next post. Hopefully, you’ll find them as helpful as I do.

Beautiful readers, thank you for coming back to Ashley Spills. Ashley, here. You can check out my other posts here.

Thanks for reading, xo.

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