Why I Now Celebrate Going to Therapy Instead of Hiding That I Need It - Article Health

When I was in college, I often felt too depressed to even get out of bed. I visited a few different counselors-in-training at my campus’s student health center, but I failed miserably to connect with any counselor in the way I craved. I gave up the hope of ever finding a therapist who could possibly understand my feelings of isolation and sadness.

Then, in 2010, I was fresh out of college and more than a little lost. I was teaching in an after-school program at an elementary school where I spent my days in a chilly cinder block office at the back of the cafeteria. I felt depressed during work hours, and when I’d leave for the day, I’d hold my car keys in a death grip and frantically lock my car doors as soon as they shut behind me. I thought to myself, maybe I have anxiety.

During one of those anxious evenings in my car after work, it was as if my body went into auto pilot, doing what it needed to do to save my life before I could even understand what was happening. I suddenly opened up a browser window on my phone, typed in PsychologyToday.com, and did a quick search using their “Find a Therapist” function. It led me to the profile of a kind looking woman with an office a couple of towns over. She used words like “body-centered” and “high sensitivity” and “intuitive.” She was certified in yoga and specialized in depression and anxiety. But honestly, I don’t even remember reading any of that before my gut just kicked in; I made an appointment.

And, gosh, was it a heaven-sent match. I’d soon learn that my intuition was right; I’d been struggling with anxiety and depression for the past ten years, since the age of twelve.

Two years ago, I was reminded of just how important a role my therapist has in my life.
I had landed in Vietnam, where I’d decided to move for a year to teach English. I knew nobody in that country, had no knowledge of the Vietnamese language, and had never been anywhere in Asia. When my plane landed, a man holding a sign with my name whisked me into his car as he expertly wove us through the massive crowds of motorbikes, magically avoiding collisions before he dropped me off in front of my hotel in a tiny back alley of Hanoi.

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