I started seeing a new therapist last week. I wanted to talk with someone because I was feeling stressed, a little on edge, and perhaps mildly depressed. Trying to define my emotions was complicated. I know that I’ve been cranky with my husband at times and he doesn’t deserve that. I know that I have felt exhausted, anxious and even apathetic at times, I don’t deserve that. It was time for me to seek professional help.

Our first visit involved a bit of getting to know each other and going over some basic agreements. Then she asked the question, “How can I help you today?” and my tears started. The release of emotion surprised me. It seems that I just needed a safe space and a compassionate ear so I could let go. I was finally able to talk about the edginess, the exhaustion, the challenges. I talked about the anger, the guilt, but mostly I talked the sadness I was feeling watching this disease destroy the person I love most in this world. And she told me that it was okay for me to feel all of those emotions, that I was okay, something I really needed to hear.

I thought I was doing all the right things to take care of my mental health. I journal daily, I work out, I belong to a wonderful Parkinson’s support network. Sometimes doing all you can on your own just isn’t enough. I have another appointment later this week and anticipate visiting with this counselor weekly for a while. And I’m stocking up on tissues so I will be prepared for that next conversation.