I'm afraid to go to therapy for the same reasons I'm afraid to enter into any kind of personal relationship. I may fool the random passersby, cashiers, etc. I occasionally meet out there in the world, but those are the most casual of encounters—I don't know them, they don't know me, and neither cares a fig about the other.
In a therapeutic situation, however, just me and one other person (or perhaps a small group) close together in a room too small and too brightly lit, the armor of anonymity falls away. It's a far more intimate atmosphere, and lasts a much longer time, not only the length of a session, but session after session, for weeks and months, even years. In time, it all comes out if one is honest, and there it lies, exposed. I'm terrified that they'll see through my façade, spot the monster behind the mask—figuratively and literally—and be disgusted. As always, in any circumstance, it's the revulsion, shame, and humiliation I fear the most.
That said, I truly believe that I need therapy. I see it as a necessary first step toward becoming the person I would like to be. First conquer (or at least subdue) the fears and sick compulsions that drive me underground, then address the physical issues that feed them. First one side, then the other, then repeat, like a wooden monkey climbing ropes in a child's playroom.
I don't believe therapy will change who I am to the extent of losing my individuality. I'll still have the unique characteristics that make me me—kindness, humor, what creative talents I may possess—but perhaps I'll be able to share them with someone else for a change. I'd like to socialize (though not too much, please), sing in a choir, maybe volunteer someplace, but I can't do any of those things now. I'm stifled by fear, crowded by hopelessness and insecurity. I believe therapy can help with that. I believe it can help me get rid of some of the bad stuff while holding onto the good. It's a lot like cleaning my apartment in a way: once I get rid of all the junk, I'll have a lot more room to breathe.
For now, the fear remains, however, and the question stands: How can I go to a stranger and talk about that which shames me most? Where do I find the courage to pick up the phone and make that call? That's the hurdle I have yet to clear, and I'm not sure how high I can jump.