I’m sorry I’ve been MIA for as long as I have. I guess I’ve just been going through some things mentally. No reason to worry though, as my emotional state is good—I’m happy and stable. But something still feels off. Lately, I’ve found that I’m not as excited or enthusiastic about my writing journey as I was previously. I wouldn’t quite call it burnout or writer’s block, since I am still writing daily, even if I’m not doing it on here. But in truth, I don’t really know what I would call it. 

Unfortunately, it’s been a year full of disappointments, which affected me more than I was willing to admit. I’m not really the type of person to complain about things though. If I’m upset about a circumstance I’ll either suck it up and deal with it, or try to find a way to improve it. I pride myself on my problem solving and adaptability, which normally help me come out on top. However, that was not the case this time around. It seems that none of what I tried this year ended up working. While it wasn’t a terrible year per se, nothing ever really swung my way. It’s been more of a mixed bag than anything, so it’s not like the year was a complete disaster—there are still some small blessings to be grateful for. Here’s to hoping that 2025 will be better. 

For the longest time now, my therapist has started each session with the same question, “How are you doing, Justin?” For a while, my answer used to fluctuate greatly from not good to triumphant and everything in between. No surprise there considering my emotional state back then. I wasn’t even-keeled like I am now. I didn’t have the self-awareness that I have now. I didn’t show myself grace or acceptance like I do now. I let bad moods linger and snowball. I allowed my stress level to build and build and build. I didn’t know how to control my anger or sadness all that well. I went through high highs and low lows. My life was a whole rollercoaster of emotions, without a real centerline to return to. I was either elated in the moment but without any lasting joy. Or I was upset and disappointed, with nothing in between. 

That much has since changed. I’ve learned how to accept and process my emotions for what they are, positive or negative. I’ve learned how to regulate them better. Be the one in control of them, rather than letting them control me. Happiness, sadness, anger, are all inevitable parts of life—every emotion is. You can’t just avoid your sadness or anger because you don’t like how they make you feel. Ignoring them or pretending like they don’t exist will only make you ill-prepared for the next time you feel that way. Like many things, I learned this the hard way. Each time I felt anger bubble up I would feel ashamed of it. Every time I felt sad I would beat myself up for it, and end up feeling worse. My life for two and a half decades was riddled with guilt. I had conditioned myself to believe that both of these emotions needed to be avoided at all times. I believed that even the smallest inkling of them was a sign of weakness.

It wasn’t until a few months into therapy that I realized the wrongness of my approach. For the first six months or so, my therapist spent the first fifteen minutes of every session going over one specific emotion in an objective and unbiased manner, in hopes of separating me from my misconceptions. She started out with giving me the definition of the word, which led into thought exercises such as word associations, talking about proper and improper ways to react to said emotion, and other things. Her goal was to get me to accept and embrace all of my emotions, regardless of if I had a positive or negative perception of them. And it worked! But it took some time for me to get there.

Finding my way back to a healthy mindset was a multistep process that took a lot of time and energy. It wasn’t instantaneous like a lightbulb turning on or off. It took a lot of understanding, a lot of breaking down and building up, a lot of self-acceptance to get me to where I am today. But most importantly, it took years of therapy to uncondition myself from my old mindset, and recondition myself into my new one. If you compared who I am today with who I was ten years ago it would be like comparing night and day. You would find two vastly different individuals. But I didn’t change overnight. I didn’t transform from a naive, depressed, twenty-three year old straight to a confident, knowledgable, and calm thirty-three year old. I got from here to there in small increments. I took a few steps forward, a few steps back. I made a few mistakes, I learned a few lessons. But most critical of all, I showed myself grace regardless of the outcome.

I started to accept all parts of me rather than hiding certain things. I stopped trying to suppress interests that I thought clashed with the image I was trying to portray. When it came down to it, the most important bit wasn’t other’s perception of me, but rather, who I actually was. Was I staying true to myself? Was the image of me a genuine portrayal of who I was? Was I proud of the person I had become? For the longest time, the answer to all of these questions was, ‘no.’ I realized through therapy that I was spending way too much time on maintaining the facade. I was wasting energy on this pretense when it would’ve been more productively spent on bettering myself and improving my situation. This led me to a second realization: that the biggest disservice was to myself. The person I hurt the most with these lies was me.

The truth of the matter was that a large part of me was afraid of what life would look like without the facade. For many years, it was part of a safety mechanism that I’d put in place to protect myself. It was a way for me to cover up my biggest sensitivities. To prevent myself from becoming too vulnerable in a relationship—as a shy kid who had a hard time making friends, losing a friendship was one of my biggest fears, so I kept my distance and built up walls (little did I know that it often backfired, resulting in a self-fulfilling prophecy). It allowed me to minimize the “target” on my back by suppressing my nerdier tendencies. It helped me mask my lack of self-confidence. I was able to live in a bubble, pretending like things were fine when they weren’t. It allowed me to continue ignoring my problems, to shove them into a deep corner of my mind where I didn’t have to deal with them.

But as I’ve stated several times before, “out of sight, out of mind” ends up doing more harm than good. By ignoring your issues and shoving them off to the side, you give them room to fester and grow, outside of your purview. Pretending like problems don’t exist doesn’t fix them or make them go away. The problem is still there whether or not you want to acknowledge it. The only way to fix a weakness or a flaw is to face it head on, to address it directly, to admit that it’s actually there. Once I accepted this, I was finally able to move on with my life. As they say in Alcoholics Anonymous, the first step is admitting that you have a problem—something that’s relevant to life in general. 

Once you make this first admission, everything else starts to come into focus. I was able to admit that I didn’t have all the answers and that I needed help. I was able to come to grips with who I was and accept me as I was. And with that acceptance came confidence that I’d never known before. Rather than letting my circumstance dictate the way my life unfolded I finally felt in control for the first time. I was able to rely more on my strengths, and work on my weaknesses. All of this helped me mature into an adult. And I couldn’t have done it without therapy. 

I owe my life to therapy. It rescued me from the darkness inside my soul. It saved me from an untimely death. It liberated me from a life of mediocrity. It gave me purpose again. It gave me courage to face the gloom that clouded my mind. It gave me the strength to face my fears. But most importantly, it taught me self-awareness. It taught me how to be confident. It taught me how to rediscover my passion. Without therapy my life would’ve turned out differently. Without it I wouldn’t be adequately prepared to face what life has to throw at me. So even though 2024 was full of disappointments I can still move on. I can continue chasing my dream. The dream doesn’t change, but how I get there might. So all I have to do is keep an open mind. Be adaptable like I’ve always been. It’ll all come together eventually.