Well, I wound up doing the opposite. I attempted therapy again around this time last year (so one year after my first attempt), again, at my mother's will. She noticed that I was basically going to work, coming home, and retreating to my room as soon as possible, and only coming out to shower. She made me feel as if I had to go, and I'm a stubborn person. I went, but I didn't let it do me any good. I listened, and I talked to my therapist, but I felt like we weren't a good match. Looking back, I wonder if we really weren't a good match, or if it was just me subconsciously making us a match.
So, fast forward to this past September. I woke up one morning and realized that I didn't want to feel the way I had been feeling. This came after another important realization: I wasn't happy. I was able to fake it pretty well (around everyone, with the exception of my daughter's birth father. He can see right through me, still.), and I had done such a good job of "faking" it, that I had started to believe it myself. I believed I was happy. I missed my daughter, and I got sad when I thought of how much she's changed and grown, and I got upset and frustrated when updates didn't come on time, but for the most part, I was "happy." But I was just going through the motions. Being able to get up in the morning doesn't mean you're happy. Being able to go out and laugh with friends doesn't mean you are happy. That's all I was doing. Work, home, shower, dinner, bed. Next morning: repeat. And I was struggling to get out of bed when I wasn't even tired. So, I took the first step (always the hardest) and set up an appointment.
I've only had three appointments so far, but they have been good. I feel like this therapist and I "clicked" very well from the beginning. She asked me if I thought I was depressed, and I said no. I told her I'm not sad, but I'm not happy...I'm just existing. She replied by telling me that she thinks that I have been depressed for so long that it's become normal for me...to the point where I don't think anything is wrong. I suppose she's right.
This time around, it has already been a much more positive experience for me, because I made the decision to do it. I knew that in order for it to work for me, I had to want it for myself. I couldn't go because I thought it was expected of me, I couldn't go because someone else thought that I should....I had to realize, within myself, that I needed it.
What has your experience with therapy been like? Have you coped on your own without it, has it helped you immensely, or anything in between?