Graduating Therapy Doesn’t Mean I’m ‘Fixed’—It Means I’m Equipped

Today was a really big day for me.

I graduated therapy.

Since January, I’ve been doing weekly DBT—Dialectical Behavioral Therapy.

It’s not my first time trying therapy. I gave it a shot once before, but I quit after just two sessions. It left me feeling worse, not better. It was mostly just talk therapy, and I already had plenty of people in my life I could vent to. Plus—I didn’t vibe with the therapist. And let’s be honest, vibe matters.

Back in January, everything was crashing in.

The custody battle was ramping up.

My anxiety was through the roof.

My emotions were leaking into every part of my life—

Work.

Parenting.

Sleep.

Everything.

I didn’t feel like myself anymore.

Then one day I saw a Facebook post for a nurse practitioner who specialized in DBT. And I decided to try again.

I wasn’t under any illusions.

I knew my problems weren’t going anywhere.

X wasn’t going anywhere.

And he certainly wasn’t going to change.

What I wanted were skills.

I wanted to see his name pop up on my phone and not instantly feel sick.

I wanted to send a message with boundaries—and not hold my breath waiting for the fallout.

I wanted to feel like me again.

To dance in the kitchen with my kids.

To sing in the car without a lump in my throat.

I had lost myself, and I was desperate to get her back.

Enter my therapist.

From our first session, I knew she was the one.

I loved her energy. I loved her no-nonsense approach.

She didn’t care about dissecting my past. She wasn’t there to ask why I was the way I was.

She was there to help me move forward. To regulate. To heal.

I learned about the bubble of control, emotional dysregulation, neural pathways, mindfulness, and—maybe most importantly—how to hold and enforce boundaries.

She had me write daily affirmations I repeated every morning before court.

She gave me homework.

She sent podcast episodes and book recs she knew I’d love.

She made me create a goals list—and this blog?

It was on that list.

Not every week was easy.

Sometimes I didn’t feel like doing therapy.

Sometimes I’d be stuck at work, telling my MAs to slow the patient flow so I could finish my session.

But no matter what—I always felt better afterward.

Grounded. More like myself.

Am I a completely new person?

Nope. Still me.

I still worry.

X still bothers me.

I still wish some things were different.

But now I understand what I can control—and what I can’t.

I know what serves me—and what doesn’t.

And I finally have the ability to recognize when I’m dysregulated—and how to bring myself back.

So today, I graduated.

I’ve learned the tools.

Now I have to keep applying them. Every day. Over and over.

It’s a practice. A process.

A constant work in progress.

But maybe—just maybe—someday it’ll all feel second nature.

And if you’re reading this feeling hopeless, anxious, or like therapy didn’t work for you…

Don’t give up.

Try again.

Find a therapist that fits.

You deserve to feel better.

You deserve to come home to yourself again.

There’s a brighter world out there.

And you deserve to live in it.