22 YEARS, 6 THERAPISTS, HERE'S WHAT I'VE LEARNED
“Why do you have to tell people you’re going to therapy twice a week?”
My mom busted into my bedroom a few weeks ago demanding why I felt the need to “put my whole life” on the internet. After all these years, she still sees mental health as something to be hush-hush about. Even despite the fact that she put me in therapy for the first time as a kid, she is firmly planted in the ideal if you have a problem, just pray about it— or exercise it out, if you’re my mother. And for a minute, she got me. I started to question why I was so quick to share that I had upped my sessions from one to two times a week.
Are people going to think I have… issues?
But so what if I do? We all have our own problems.
When my personal essay about anxiety first went live on Bazaar.com in 2014, I thought everyone would think I was crazy. It felt like a “coming out” of sorts. A battle that I had struggled with privately for so long would soon be public knowledge. When people Googled my name, they’d see that I had my first panic attack in middle school, and that I was terrified of vomiting, and that I couldn’t get on an airplane for years. But there was still a part of me that pushed through the fear and wanted to share my story. In response, I received an outpouring of love from friends and strangers—it made me realize my story had the power to make others feel less alone in their struggles. That’s why I continue to talk about my mental health, because I know how alone I felt throughout my teenage years, and I would’ve felt so grateful to know anyone who was going through the same. I want people to know that you can have a cool job, or get good grades, have the best friends and family, travel all over the world, and still have anxiety or struggle to keep things together.
You never forget your first—and it’s safe to say I didn’t enjoy it—but what 11-year-old enjoys therapy? After my first panic attack kept me home from school for nearly a week, my parents were advised to get me a psychotherapist and medication. They passed on the meds, and even though neither of my parents believed in therapy, they were concerned enough to get me the help I needed. Pre-teen feelings aside, my first therapy experience was effective. My therapist equipped me with an invaluable foundation for dealing with my anxiety. She helped me develop my own coping mechanisms and techniques for managing panic attacks like meditating and visualizations— strategies I still use to this day.
By the time I got to college, I felt like I had a handle on my panic attacks. But when I look back on who I was then, I can see that my need to have total control over my life was a function of my anxiety. I never allowed myself to be in a position where I could lose control—so I didn’t drink alcohol or do drugs or have sex. But during my junior year, I experienced my first real heartbreak and needed help.
At the start of the school year, my friend with benefits (who I was secretly in love with, of course) started dating a freshman girl—the senior and the freshman, how cliche. I was crushed, not only because our romantic relationship ended—but his new girlfriend was hell-bent on destroying what was left of my friendship with him. I felt helpless, and it was really hard to let go of the relationship that had become a big part of my life. So I asked my best friend, who was already in therapy, to get me a therapist recommendation.
This time, I was way more receptive to therapy—maybe because I was older and it was easier to form a connection. I grew to really like my therapist and genuinely looked forward to our sessions. She steered me back to the light, helped me mourn this failed attempt of a relationship, and introduced me to the concept of “boundaries” (a difficult one for a Pisces).
Once I graduated from university, our relationship naturally came to an end.
I started therapy for the third time right before my 25th birthday as I struggled to get my career off the ground and piled some more boy troubles on top as a twenty-something dating in New York City for the first time. I used psychologytoday.com to search for my new therapist, but after just two sessions, the therapist ghosted me! To this day, I still wonder why. Yes, I cancelled a session last minute, but when I called to reschedule, I just never heard back. It was hurtful, but I didn’t let it stop me from trying again. I went back to the psychologytoday.com database—and I found my next therapist, who was a dead ringer for Hilary Clinton.
In our first session, she asked me why I was starting therapy again. I said it was because “I had a lot of feelings.” She asked me why I thought that. At the time, I didn’t understand that my family always made me feel like I was too sensitive or too emotional. Being brought up by two extremely driven, hard-working Caribbean parents who seemed to only operate from survival mode meant there wasn’t much space for the full spectrum of my emotions as a child. Naturally, I felt it was a problem I needed to solve.
Now, let me be clear, I didn’t love this therapist. She was okay—but I still went in there and said what I needed to say each week because that’s what I was there to do. I wanted to learn, I wanted to understand myself and my often overwhelming emotions. She was pivotal in helping me work through my plane anxiety—and as I started dating more in NYC, I was so grateful for the objective soundboard, especially when I was so inclined to blame things on myself. I think most of us can relate to feeling insecure as we’re navigating new relationships, crowdsourcing from friends, and letting one opinion sway us until the next sways us in the complete opposite direction. Text him, don’t text him, analyzing every text message, and spending hours trying to craft the *perfect* text response. My therapist helped me to stop blaming myself when things didn’t work out with my emotionally unavailable targets—but she didn’t necessarily help me connect the dots concretely to why I was always drawn to the emotionally handicapped in the first place.
So when the book Attached by Amir Levine was recommended to me by a matchmaker I interviewed for work, it felt like I was finally let in on some giant secret my therapist had been hiding from me. Yes, we talked about how my parents' relationship with each other and with me affected how I viewed relationships. But she never told me explicitly I had an attachment wound—which made it more difficult for me to regulate my emotions, made me crave reassurance, and endlessly worry about being abandoned in a relationship. Instead, the book laid everything out and instantly made me realize this therapist was no longer serving me. I didn’t even end things with her before I started playing the field to see what else might be out there. I was excited when I found a woman who specialized in attachment theory, but after an in-person consultation, I couldn’t justify the $250 rate since she wouldn’t accept insurance. Nevertheless, I was over my therapist—so I evoked the same excuse people use when they’re too scared to break up with their significant other. I told her I wanted “a break.” It wasn’t a total lie—after 4 years, I was ready to take off my therapy training wheels and see how I managed my feelings without having her to run to whenever I had a meltdown because a guy wasn’t able to mirror my affection.
During my therapy break, I met my tarot reader Dainichi. He was almost like a therapist, except I didn’t have to work so hard for the answers—but he also became a crutch for whenever I feared the unknown. So fourteen months later, I decided to return to therapy. For the first time, I wasn’t necessarily in crisis, I just knew that it was something that I wanted to do for myself— and I didn’t want to wait until I was feeling low to find someone.
Now, this isn’t a contest, but I have to say I’m in my best therapy relationship yet. I’m not sure if it’s because this is the first time I’ve had a male therapist, or because he laughs at my jokes, or gave me his subscriptions of Psychology Today magazine—but I’ve definitely felt more at peace with him than the rest. I also think I’ve had the most personal growth over these last four years, not just because of our relationship, but because of the work I’ve also done on my own through my pursuit of spirituality, reading Buddhist texts and psychology books. I love that my therapist encourages my curiosity (we swap reading lists all the time), but he also reels me in when I’m in fix-it mode.
Over the years, my anxiety has kept me on my toes by reinventing itself countless times— just when I’ve conquered one fear, another one sprouts its ugly head. As I’ve navigated questions about my value, purpose, leaving my dream job, and being an adult living at home with parents, I wouldn’t have been able to survive it all without his guidance and support. He just always makes me feel like I’m not alone in whatever I’m going through, and that I’m not crazy—which is a relief when I always feel like I am crazy.
At the same time, I’m also aware that our 4-year anniversary is coming up this month. I don’t necessarily have a timeline for how long I’m willing to work with someone, but I do feel that as I constantly evolve as a person, so do my needs for a therapist. Especially after this last year, I’ve thought more and more about how having a Black therapist, as well as one that’s trauma-informed, could provide support in a whole different way I’ve never experienced. So that will be a priority when the time does come—and I know I will feel safe enough to be honest with my therapist that I’m ready to end our work together.
Throughout this journey, I’ve come to realize how much therapy feels like cultivating a romantic relationship. There’s so much pressure to find ‘the one.” When you enter into a relationship, there are moments of hesitation, peace, and familiarity. There are times where you’re scared to say what’s been on your mind. Then there’s that moment when you know it’s over, but you don’t know how to break it off. Most of all, like any relationship, without trust you have nothing. However, much like the perilous dating landscape not every therapist is always going to be the perfect match, not every therapist relationship is for life, but there will always be things to learn about ourselves from the experience.
Instagram therapy isn’t a replacement for real therapy but here are accounts I always learn from
This London-based psychotherapist creates informative content and shareable infographics around attachment, trauma, and healing.
Theboundaries expert will help you recognize your own limits whether in platonic and romantic relationships.
Depression or struggling with your mental health doesn’t always look like what we’ve been told it looks like—this account does an amazing job of educating on what mental health struggles really look like.
While she specializes in trauma and PTSD for the queer and trans community, everyone can learn from her insightful content.
The ultimate go-to Black mental health resources and they have a podcast hosted by a PhD that covers everything from body image to dating to managing trauma.
A great account for the basics to building emotional intelligence.
Educational mental health content never looked so cute.
A community dedicated to supporting women of color in their mental health and wellness journey.