My First Sessions at Kaiser Therapy
How I was able to recognize, express, and control my anxiety and anger around family holidays through therapy at Kaiser
Every 142 days, or, at most, 251 days, Radiohead’s Fake Plastic Trees and Coldplay’s Fix You would reverberate in my head, giving words to my feelings of crippling self-doubt and desperation. I always thought these seasonal bouts of depression were just part of my identity — I was just someone who probably had chronic mild depression, and that was it.
But looked at soberly, several pieces of my life were shambles, and I needed emotional help now more than ever:
- My brother was weaving in and out of homelessness with a laundry list of mental health problems, and I often spent hours on the phone with him.
- My bullshit job drained most of my waking hours, and I couldn’t see the end of it.
- My relationship with my partner was falling apart, and I didn’t know what to do.
I could see the way things were going to pan out if I didn’t get a grip on my emotions; there was writing on the wall from how I was treating my partner, how I treated myself, and how my parents treated each other.
The cherry on top was that I experienced anxious thoughts about the dreaded time right around the corner: the holidays.
It took a herculean effort to sit through the elevator music Kaiser put me through, sometimes up to an hour. A few times, the call cut off mid-conversation while scheduling an intake appointment, and I’d need to restart the process over again. I tried a few times when I was in throughout the last 3 years with no success.
Around mid-2019, I decided to try again. After several calls, I felt like I struck gold when I made it through the appointment scheduling process. But, to my dismay, I was offered the option to enroll in a new life-coach-like program that allowed patients more frequent visits but only for a handful of sessions. Afraid I’d perpetually be on hold with never-ending elevator music again upon finishing the program, I insisted on joining the waitlist for their typical therapist plan. They warned me the waitlist ranged from a few weeks to months until I’d see a therapist, and, even then, I’d only be able to see them monthly. I stuck to my guns.
Is it helpful?
Although I enjoyed spending time with P, my other brother, and my parents, I knew that casual conversation could combust into fierce and thunderous arguments instantly. As I explained this to L, my first therapist at Kaiser, I could already feel the knots in my stomach.
I told L it wasn’t just the anxiety of the holidays that really bothered me. It was the thought that this always happens no matter what. And that it would continue to happen no matter what. I was told once that if I wanted to know who my partner would eventually become, I could simply look at their family as an accurate indicator. Reflecting this thought back at myself, I drowned in hopelessness, playing out horrible nightmares filled with endless arguments and deafening shouting.
My therapist interjected, “Has the regular thinking of the dreaded Thanksgiving scenarios been helpful for you?”
Of course not. But my brain inevitably goes through these thought patterns.
Acknowledge First, Then Express
We took a step back and talked about my metacognition: to what extent did I realize the onset of these emotions, and could I pinpoint how it felt? L pointed out the importance of labeling my emotions and noting their sensations in my body and mind. For me, thinking of the holidays tightened my stomach, and I felt clammy and unsure. And if I dwelled for long, a lethargic fog hovered over me, and I became irritable and tired. Acknowledging the sensations was the first step, I learned — without recognizing these feelings, it would be impossible to address the problem.
But just noticing the feelings isn’t enough for me and I’m usually still stirred up.
The next steps were to accept and express my feelings. One easily accessible and low-energy option was to express my emotions to someone by sharing with a friend, either over text or phone. Another option was to synchronize my mental state to my body’s physiological state. If I find it difficult to put into words or think through what I was experiencing, I could express them through blasting music either through my speakers or my guitar. My therapist reminded me that I didn’t need to sound perfect; the activity was only to express my emotions. Since I enjoyed running, having this conversation with my therapist gave me permission to go on jogs throughout the day whenever I felt a little tight or anxious from work or family. I also felt a sense of security since I was encouraged by a therapist to do what I liked when I wanted to!
Then she asked me again: “Are these thoughts helpful?”
Focus on What I Can Control
I meditate on these negative thoughts so often, I theorized, because my brain is trying to prepare itself: if I expect the worse, I will be mentally prepared when arguments break out.
This defensive way of thinking could be helpful but just not the way I’ve been doing it. I stopped short of the most crucial step: formulating a plan. I recognized that there are many elements in these situations that I don’t have control over. But I can control how I respond, and that’s a beneficial outcome from having these thoughts.
How can I best control the things that I can?
Most intuitively, I could direct the conversation away from sensitive topics, remain calm, and not raise my voice. But we both knew that this plan wasn’t going to work: it was too vague, and, had it worked before, then I wouldn’t need therapy for this topic.
My communication style is too passive, and then, once I’m pushed too hard, I become overly aggressive. I talked with my therapist about ways to communicate my needs nonviolently to my parents. For sensitive topics I wanted to avoid, I could use a stern tone, let them know how fights over these topics make me feel, and remind them more than once since they sometimes bulldoze over requests like this. Suppose they forget, and I catch myself raising my voice, my stomach getting tighter, or my heart rate increasing. In that case, I can choose to maintain emotional composure by physically distancing myself by leaving the room or going on a walk.
She also pointed out that I didn’t visit my family to experience this anxiety every year. I went back home because of another reason. What was that reason?
My family and I enjoyed our time with each other. We didn’t see each other often, and the time we spent was meaningful and memorable. I realized that I had a tendency to dial-in on the things that go wrong and not the things that can go right. When I catch myself with only negative thoughts, I found it helpful to slow down to pair each one with an equally positive and authentic view.
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After a year of therapy, I’m proud of the progress that I’ve made. There’s much work to be done still, but I now look forward to the holidays at home. When my dread and anxiety surfaces for time with family, I have the cognitive tools to maintain a healthy outlook.
The issues I mentioned at the beginning of the article are still issues for me. I’m working through them step by step. If you’re curious about my story or want to learn more about my Kaiser experience, drop a comment, and let me know.
