Learning to Show Up for Myself

At the start of 2025, I made a decision that would quietly shift the course of my life: I reached out to a therapist. My anxiety and depression had become overwhelming—panic attacks were constant, and my medication (which I’d been on for over a decade) had stopped working. At first, I tried increasing the dosage. When that didn’t help, my doctor and I decided to switch medications entirely.

The adjustment period was rough. I sank into a deep depression and had intrusive thoughts that scared me. But after consulting with my doctor, we decided to stay on the new medication and increase it to a therapeutic dose. It wasn’t easy, but it felt like a small step toward real change.

Starting therapy, my anxiety became a central topic. I had just moved to a new town, completely alone. While it was a relief to be an hour away from my family and only 20 minutes from work, I didn’t know a single soul. One weekend, my mom came to visit (she’s the extrovert in the family) and helped me meet some people at a local bar. That night cracked open a door—I went out again the next night and met even more people. But instead of feeling empowered, I clung to them like a security blanket. I still wouldn’t go anywhere alone. If they weren’t going out, I wasn’t going out.

In therapy, we talked about my fear of trying new things—something as simple as walking in a park. In my old town, I used to go on walks a few times a week, listen to podcasts, and unwind. But here, the idea of finding a new park stressed me out. “What if I get lost? What if I do something stupid?” I’d ask my therapist. She gently reminded me: “You can’t do anything wrong at a park.” I was letting fear lead the way.

Week after week, I’d talk about the damn park. Until one day, I’d had enough. I told my therapist, “I’m tired of talking about the fucking park. I’m just going to go.” I had done the research, even asked locals about good spots—I was prepared, I was just scared. That week, I finally went to the park. And it was fine. Peaceful, even. I survived. I did it.

But then came the next hurdle. My town didn’t have a Target, and I wanted to go to one in the nearby city. One day I drove to a big Target I found on maps—but it had a parking garage, and that alone freaked me out. I panicked and drove straight home. Later, I told my therapist. We laughed about it and made a new plan. I found a different Target with a regular parking lot and went that very afternoon. Small win. Big growth.

Fast forward a few months—I started talking to a guy I had known in the past, someone I really liked, even though he lived in another state. After a few months of talking, I did something totally unlike me: I booked a flight to visit him. For a whole week. LITERALLY, WHO AM I?!

I planned the trip around my school schedule, booked it a few weeks out, and tried not to overthink it because that would’ve triggered another panic spiral. I had no agenda, no itinerary—just the mindset of “whatever happens, happens.” It was kind of terrifying, but freeing. I was flying across the country to stay with a guy I had never met in person. And I was okay.

Turns out, he had just started a second job and couldn’t take much time off. So, I had most of the week to myself—and surprisingly, I didn’t mind. I laid around, watched Netflix, and didn’t think about work for the first time in over a year. It was the break I didn’t know I desperately needed. I’d been working on setting boundaries and prioritizing rest, but had never followed through—until this trip.

On the last day, he encouraged me to go out and explore the town. It was tiny, but I found a park and some shops. I even sat in the sun for a while, just breathing and soaking it in. I felt peaceful. Recharged. Proud.

By the end of the trip, it felt like the week flew by and maybe I “wasted” too much time doing nothing. But honestly? I needed that nothing. My mind and body were asking for rest, and for once—I listened.

Final Thoughts

This year has been about showing up for myself in small but meaningful ways. Going to therapy. Switching medication. Walking in the park. Driving to Target. Booking the flight. Resting without guilt. Each decision chipped away at the fear that’s held me hostage for so long.

Growth doesn’t always look like grand transformations. Sometimes it’s just doing the thing you’ve talked about in therapy for six weeks. Sometimes it’s letting yourself rest without shame. That’s what breaking the bond looks like to me—cutting ties with fear, self-doubt, and old patterns. One uncomfortable step at a time.