“I know it’s unfortunate, but alcohol does put you in a vulnerable position. When young girls drink, they leave themselves open to assault and rape.”
Seeking therapy isn’t easy for many people. And if you’re one of the 40 million people who live with anxiety, depression, or any number of other mental health issues, it’s even more difficult.
So, it’s upsetting when, after getting in touch with insurance companies (provided you even have insurance), after making calls to the therapist’s office to set up an appointment, after waiting for days or weeks to receive care for problems that have plagued you for months and years, after securing child care and ensuring you can take the time off work, after making the drive 30 minutes across town to make the appointment, and then after filling out paperwork, you find out that your therapist is part of the problem(s) that sent you there to begin with.
I’ve spent much of my life (and all of my adult life) struggling with some form of anxiety or other.
My early teen years were spent experiencing a number of gastrointestinal issues all related to stress, thanks to the cruelty of kids who thought it was OK to frequently (and maliciously) comment on my looks, my musical tastes, and my inability to stand up for myself.
As an adult, I’ve experienced more trauma than I ever knew possible. Between multiple sexual assaults, the unexpected death of my first child, the highly traumatic birth of my second child and his subsequent months spent in the NICU, I am often surprised that I am still standing.