Baby Steps

Well, yesterday I went to therapy for the first time in a million years. I had all but given up on therapy, and I was handling my depression pretty well through healthy choices. But I have hit a road block, and lately no amount of healthy living is helping. I feel like Pig Pen from The Peanuts. Except that instead of dirt, it's just sadness floating over my head. My body also feels very heavy, at times almost painful. I can think of different times in my life when I've felt especially depressed but yet still hopeful. Hopeful that at some point things will get better, and for the most part that's happened. But this time, I really have little to no hope.
As I left my appointment, I wanted to call someone and say "I did it", I made myself do it. And I had no one to call, no one to say "wow" "good for you" I don't think therapy will help heal that wound.
I like to fancy myself an open minded person though, so I'm willing to at least try. My attempts at therapy in the past have not really helped. But part of that is because I've been to some terrible therapists, and I've also tried therapy at times when I wasn't really wanting to be healthy. For over two years now that's all I've been striving for. I want to be one of those people who radiates happiness and light. I want to be inspiring to other people.
What I've realized is that even though I no longer drink or smoke cigarettes, all of those feelings and reasons why I did those things are still in me.
And even though I have nothing to do with my adoptive family, they are still very much a part of my life. I have to let go of this anger. It feels so impossible.
Therapy is hard, and it's scary. Opening up to a stranger is hard enough, but opening up those wounds and getting in there and getting dirty is not easy. But I'm starting to believe it's very necessary in order to move on. At least that's what I'm going with for now.