Wellness rituals are great but they're not necessarily a replacement for therapy.
So, I wrote in my gratitude journal while soaking in Epsom salts after SoulCycle. I religiously followed wellness gurus with their sculpted abs and permanent smiles, praying their “10 Steps to Love the Skin You’re In!” listicles would exorcise me.
I thought I could remedy trauma and shame through healing rituals problematically disembodied from their native cultures and repackaged as mental health solutions. I venerated an industry that sold me the promise of physical and mental perfection. With just one more session, reading, ride or mantra I would be shiny and new.In my relentless search for wholeness, I found that New Age wellness rituals can relieve temporary discomfort . But gorging myself on green juice didn’t bring me one step closer to self-love. It left me desperate, financially drained and beholden to a fluffy culture that causes more harm than healing. After years of drowning in consumerist self-care, alone in my apartment cluttered with crystals, succulents and a well-worn yoga mat, I found myself paralyzed in bed. Fully clothed, beneath a mountain of blankets, shaking uncontrollably. I’d hit my breaking point. The week before, I’d left a crumbling relationship with a man I still loved. Sadly, he was still in a volatile relationship with another love: cocaine. In the days that followed, my dormant depression ensnared my mind. I clung to my meditation practice, my journal, my palo santo, but my tricks were futile this time. Defeated, I shut my phone off, silently surrendering to the disease., I had mapped out the experiences and accomplishments that would validate me in this lifetime. Bare necessities included a healthy relationship, a fulfilling career and overwhelming self-love. But as I put the finishing touches on my 20s, all I’d attracted were men with substance-induced tempers,My Himalayan salt lamp couldn’t heal my suppressed trauma. My yoga teacher couldn’t fix my eating disorder. I couldn’t smudge away toxic exes, no matter how much sage I burned. Self-care practices are great when you already love yourself. They help healthy, whole people savor life. Despite what I saw on Instagram or read in women’s magazines, my depression could not be healed with ceremony. Ultimately, I needed clinical therapy for that.required stitches. A trained professional had to pierce the wound with a needle, sewing it shut, one dripping segment at a time. My prognosis required being completely taken apart and pieced back together. But therapy didn’t just close my wound ― it healed the infection beneath the surface. My earliest days of therapy were my darkest. Every week I left slumped over in a cab ― my body couldn’t walk me 10 blocks home. I was tormented by nightmares. I cried to the point of vomiting. My hair fell out in clumps. I lived in this pattern for months, resenting myself for not leaving my demons alone. I could have been dancing on East Village tables, getting high on attention, instead of undergoing what felt like an ongoing lobotomy. Therapy sliced right through my #nofilter bullshit. Stripped of my self-care crash diets, all I had left was the painful truth. It’s. Hard. Ass. Work. I confessed my psychosis to a stranger. I committed to the most vulnerable relationship of my life, when I’d never truly committed to anything, or anyone. I didn’t break focus for a year — no dating, no distractions. My therapist, Susan, trained me to confront the past, destroy enmeshment, and kill trauma inflicted by the lack of self-respect and invisible boundaries I’d known since childhood. I experienced new sensations, like a foreign emotion called anger. I observed that when I speak, people actually hear my voice, and they listen.I liberated my imperfections and let them breathe for the first time.and I’m forever grateful. Our work, combined with a daily dose of serotonin peacekeepers, gave way to an excruciating, beautiful process. I now understand the paramount love that exists between my own head and heart, not at the SoulCycle on Lafayette or the Full Moon Party in Thailand. Wellness rituals, mindfulness and other forms of intervention are the antidote for many. But in my case, therapy and medication were the only way to excavate my purpose and honor my pain, finally uncaging the real me. Today, there are still emotional scars that hurt faintly when touched, but I remain committed to recovery. Just as there are no quick fixes, there are no permanent ones either.Sometimes I still enjoy green juice on hot afternoons, and I inch closer to mastering crow pose each week. I meditate before bed and occasionally glance at the Sagittarius horoscope . After all, these are gratifying practices for a quick boost. But they are blatantly dangerous when substituted for professional help. Do you have a compelling personal story you’d like to see published on HuffPost? Find out what we’re looking for
United States Latest News, United States Headlines
Similar News:You can also read news stories similar to this one that we have collected from other news sources.
Former SoulCycle Executive Files Pregnancy Discrimination LawsuitFormer SoulCycle executive Jordan Kafenbaum filed a pregnancy discrimination complaint against the company by ElanaLyn
Read more »
I Thought I Could Cure My Depression With Green Juice And SoulCycleWellness rituals are no replacement for therapy.
Read more »
Brian Austin Green Thinks Megan Fox ‘Moved on So Quickly’ With MGK & He’s Upset About It.BrianAustinGreen thinks meganfox ‘moved on so quickly’ with machinegunkelly & he’s upset about it.
Read more »
Amy Schumer Is Holding Off on More Kids: 'I Can't Be Pregnant Ever Again'Amy Schumer didn't have an easy journey to motherhood with son Gene, who is now 15 months old, so it's understandable that — despite resuming in vitro
Read more »