Therapy

As I mentioned in a post that I cannot seem to find at the moment, a couple of days before my weekly therapy session, I always think that I'm going to break down in front of my therapist. Of course, because it is pre-meditated, it never happens, but I'm glad that the therapy goes well nevertheless.

The first time I broke down in front of somebody was at 7-years-old when the guidance counselor called me to the office for the yearly psychological evaluation.

Counselor: "So tell me something about your family, Rickey."
Little Rickey Boy: "Waaaaa...!"

I remember that because it was a bit of a shock that I immediately cried when I started speaking. I didn't understand where it came from. But really -- I was just a kid who wanted to play. Who's this stranger poking about my family life? Anyway, I don't recall anything happening because of it, so the counselor just probably wrote notes that I'm a deeply disturbed kid and filed it away.

The second time was in high school, again in front of a guidance counselor, when like everybody (I think), I was struggling with rejection and identity in an all-boy Catholic school. I guess everyone needs an uncontrolled emotional release every couple of years or so, and that was my time. I wasn't really fond of high school, but thankfully it ended.

A third time was at work, when I was a writer for a live TV show in the Philippines. I don't remember the exact circumstances, but it had something to with some underlings who were trying to undermine me publicly, openly defying my authority -- and since I had not heard of medication at the time (hahaha) -- I ended up bawling in front of a former Miss Australia in the dressing room. Ah yes, the image of me being comforted on the shoulders of a beauty queen. Later, the production manager reprimanded me: "Do not cry in front of the hosts!" Hahaha. I quit two months later.

And so last Friday, I went to therapy and for the fourth time in my life, I broke down, spilling all the stresses and anxiety that have been ailing me for a couple of years. I don't really know if it felt good, but it did feel weird. You see, when you get lost in your emotions like that, you end up crying at the oddest places in your monologue:

(regarding my Pinoy blog)

Therapist: "So why do you think you are touching their lives?"
Older Rickey: "Because those kids are interested in what I have to say. Waaaa..."

Now WTF was that? Hahaha. Anyway, I thought it was so lame, I had to force myself to stop the drama.

I'm now going to take meds again to help combat this depression that ails me. I think too many things are happening at the same time and I'm getting overwhelmed. But mental health issues aside, things have been good with rickey.org -- we climbed back to 8000 visitors a day after only two weeks of American Idol which is a great reason to be happy. And over at Pinoy Rickey, I just saw my blog get featured in one of the local TV stations.