Member-only story
I should have treated my therapist like any other relationship.
As most people who grow up poor and with trauma, I learned to manage things pretty much okay on my end. And by managing, I mean pushing everything so far down into my mind that it shaped everything that I am today.
Of course, I realized that I needed to talk to someone-anyone- but I hadn’t gotten to that point yet. I knew deep down that I needed to talk to a therapist but there’s still a bit of stigma in going to therapy. Like being able to talk about your problems with someone means you’re not fit for society. Or something.
It took me until I was thirty years old to finally give into the idea that I needed to go to therapy. I did my homework, called around and finally settled on a place. I signed up on their website and on the sign-up page, I filled out what I wanted to talk about and some other basic information.
They give you the option to pick your therapist from a list of people who work for their company and it listed what their expertise was in.
Since I wasn’t sure what to expect, I chose “Surprise me!” (it was really just ‘no preference’) and waited for my confirmation and who I would be paired with. Once I got the email, I also received a phone call from my selected therapist and we chatted a little, mainly about availability.
