I cry during most therapy sessions.

I used to think that crying was a weakness, but – through therapy – I’ve learned that it’s actually good. That it can be an outlet to express and release my fears and frustrations – something I have often felt like I needed to hide.

Crying is my release from all the pressure, and anxiety.

Truthfully, I used to look at the lives of people my age and try to hit the same milestones as them – whether that was at school, in my career, family, or when it came to financial independence.

But that’s the thing, therapy helped me to see that I’m on my own path.

In writing my memoir and revisiting so many key moments in my life, it struck me how many issues, such as internalised ableism, that I’d not yet felt able to discuss openly. 

That led me to being more open about those subjects, which I think is in turn what has helped me on the road to therapy.

I’d tried therapy twice before, but it never really worked for me. The first was in college, except I didn’t really gel with my therapist.

The second time I tried it was after a horrendous car crash in 2010 which only lasted between four and six sessions. This didn’t feel like enough at all.

But, last year, the concerned comments from family and friends about my mental health soon became too hard to ignore. 

Now, I’ve never been one to take unsolicited advice gracefully. Perhaps it’s my fierce independence or my innate stubbornness – or maybe a bit of both.

Simply put, I’m the sort of person who wants to reply to anyone offering me some advice with ‘if I wanted your opinion, I’d have asked’, with a side order of sass.

But in reality, the people-pleaser within me often replies with a half-smile and courteous nod. 

It’s tiring being someone you are not

So when, last year, family, friends and even people online suggested I start therapy to help with past traumas, and to manage my anxiety, I didn’t immediately jump to attention. 

I was being more open about my mental health struggles, and clearly with that openness came concern from those close to me. 

It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in the power of therapy or had any stigma towards it, I simply wanted my mental health journey to be on my terms.

Now, I’m four months into my talking therapy journey and I want to share some important lessons I’ve learnt.

First of all, having the right therapist is key, which is why I – and so many people – have perhaps failed in the past. It’s like speed dating: if you don’t click right away, you just don’t click.

I was adamant I wanted to find someone with a connection to the disabled community and I was disappointed that this was difficult to do.

For me, it really was a deal breaker. This is because I’ve had past negative experiences where I felt like I was the teacher on disability, rather than someone there who just got it. A fellow disabled friend recommended my therapist to me, and that was enough.

It was also vital for me to accept that therapy is not a quick fix. Rather, it was a long-term commitment. There’s no fad diet here, but a wholesale lifestyle change. 

Having someone who is unbiased to talk to is simply another way to express yourself outside the realms of social stereotypes. Making yourself a priority is a lifelong commitment.

On top of this, I have also learned to embrace my unique path and not see failure in my life when I compare myself to others.

I wasn’t even expected to live past infancy, go to school or enter into higher education – let alone live independently, or have the prospect of marriage and children.

I wasted so much time and energy trying to keep up with my peers and have these ‘normal’ experiences, that it left me exhausted and riddled with anxiety. It’s tiring being someone you are not.

Instead, I’m learning how to honour my uniqueness instead of conforming to how others think I should be.

The biggest thing I’ve come to understand is that I do not need to justify my thoughts, feelings or actions to anybody else, either. 

As someone who has a disability, I used to feel like I needed to be constantly aware of how my disability impacted my family and friends over the years. That I should be grateful for the help others offered me, or I should feel guilty that I was born with a disability.

But I’ve learned that it’s all out of my control. I will not apologise for being born how I was and if anyone feels disgruntled in any way by my existence, then that’s on them. I held the burden balloon for many years and now I have simply let it go. 

It’s helped to unburden myself of this – if people take issue with me or my disability then that’s their issue to work through. 

Having therapy once a week has become part of my routine, and I’m happy to be there – and turn up. 

If sharing all of this convinces anyone to look within themselves and consider therapy, then great – but it’s worth reminding yourself that we all grow differently. Therapy has helped me in more ways than I imagined, but if it doesn’t work for you, you can’t force it.

I know that, through my tears, comes growth – and I’m grateful to finally be on my own path, on my own terms. I’m on a mental health journey and if it feels right for you to join me, then go for it.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]. 

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