Has anyone else ever had this feeling? The feeling that if I decided, right this second, to stop reaching out to my friends and the people I care about most, not a single person would reach out to me? I think about this often. What if I stopped myself and didn’t text my friend ‘Hi how are you? It’s been way too long!’ That person would never think to reach out to me, so why reach out at all? 

For anyone who knows me, I’m the type of person who is constantly checking in with every single person around me, and never checking in with myself. I can’t help but feel constantly let down when no one thinks to check in on me. Maybe it’s the complexity of social media, maybe I present myself ‘to the world’ as completely competent and happy, maybe it’s the fast paced nature of this post college lifestyle, but nonetheless I feel completely alone. I am an extreme extrovert, and now, any day, I would choose a night in, alone in my apartment, over any sort of social interaction. 

What is happening to me? I have never been diagnosed with a mental illness, and yet I feel one ‘coming on’.

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I’ve really been struggling the past few months since I graduated college, and time and time again, people have said ‘you should go see a therapist.’ I used to tell everyone around me that ‘everyone should have a therapist,’ because I heard it once on a mental health panel, but I remained the ultimate hypocrite. When someone throws that sentiment at me, I always respond with ‘yeah - you’re right, you’re so right - I’m going to call someone tomorrow!’ and I never did. I think I was so worried that I would seek out therapy and no change would come. Fast forward six months - I finally decided to get over myself and pursue therapy. I reached a breaking point and wanted to put out the fire.  

I used an online matching service because it eliminated the treacherous cold call, and all of a sudden, I found my ‘match’. Finally, a week later, I’m sitting on a couch in an office in midtown, in front of a total stranger. I had no clue what to expect. 

“So tell me about yourself.” 

It felt like an interview, so I treated it like one. We start talking about my job, my family, my boyfriend, my childhood, and my relationships. I gave her the ‘elevator pitch,’ of my life and she took notes in her notebook. We finally got to the end of the first session and she said, “on our phone call you mentioned something about eating, so tell me about your relationship with food.” All of a sudden, out of nowhere, I started crying. These were the things I had never spoken about before. I decided to go for it, to be vulnerable, and to be completely honest. Once I started unpacking the topic, out of left field, she said, “time’s up!” Nice to meet you and see you next week. 

I quickly got up with tears still streaming down my face, meandering down the hallway, trying to find the exit, feeling flustered, confused, and alone. I looked down at my phone screen and I got a text saying ‘your card has been charged for today’s session’. I just opened up about something I’d never spoken about before, I was quickly ushered out the door, and received an invoice on the way out, instead of a tissue. ‘Is therapy supposed to feel this transactional?’ No, it was probably just the first session. 

Fast forward to the next session, and the session after that. I would say things here and there, like, “I’d really like to dive into my relationships and why I constantly feel let down by everyone around me”, or, “I think I’m starting to choose being alone instead of seeking out human connection. Can we talk about that?” Then we would reach the end of our hour-long sessions, she would make a note in her notebook, escort me to the door, and that was that. God forbid we would sit in her office one minute after the hour was up. I didn’t know what to think - again I’m just a first-timer. 

Then, I canceled one session during the pouring rain, without knowing about any sort of cancellation policy, and before I knew it, I had racked up so many invoices of cancelled sessions. Work had taken over my life, and I didn’t even know what the next day would bring, and yet, if I didn’t communicate 48 hours in advance about not being able to make a session, bam, an invoice would be waiting for me in my inbox. Now therapy became something I dreaded, I felt I wasn’t able to open up, that I would be cut off on the dot of the hour, and I would not be able to cancel if something came up at the last minute. 

“Is therapy supposed to feel so transactional?” I kept telling myself that it was fine and it’s all I knew, so I had to believe that.

Sessions continued to go by, and my walls were still up. “I’m going to keep trying - it’s only been a few weeks,” I told myself and my parents. Things with work were picking up like they had never before, and I stopped making time for meals and water. I could feel myself getting worse and I reached a breaking point. Late at night, the night before I had a career-making deadline at my job, I completely lost it. I was bawling, I was being honest, and I was vulnerable, so I picked up the phone and spoke with my boyfriend. All of a sudden, something clicked for me. I thought to myself, never on earth would I want to talk to my therapist about this. She wouldn’t care, she wouldn’t even know what’s going, and she would charge me. I realized that I felt like I couldn’t cry in front of my therapist, I didn’t feel safe in her office, and I worried that if I started opening up about the things that hurt me, she would escort me out the door. 

I now began to ask myself, “so if I’m going through the hardest time in my life and I wouldn’t even consider talking to my therapist about it - why am I still seeing her? There’s absolutely no follow up, no checking in, and at the end of the day, all I’m left with is an invoice.” 

I am at an extremely challenging time in my life. Work is continuing to push me to the edge, I haven’t had a social interaction beyond a work phone call in weeks, and I am at my lowest of lows. Finally, I decided to speak up to my therapist, and I asked if we could change our sessions, for the next few weeks, to an early morning time slot. So I get over myself, the next week arrives, and it completely slipped my mind that we had a 9am session scheduled. Work had consumed me. I had no reminder email, no calendar invite, and no recollection about this change. I was working away at my computer and at 10:01am, I received an email with an invoice. 

My therapist had not reached out, no phone call, not even a simple: “hey just wanted to see if we’re still on for today,” or send a reminder email. I have been open about how I have been struggling, and still nothing. Again, all I was left with was a bill to pay. 

Ultimately, I reached out to my therapist and opened up about how disappointed I felt and how I feel completely unsupported by the process. I told her how crazy my life has been and how overwhelmed I feel on the daily, and she responded by saying “I agree that for your own sense of balance it's probably best for you to pause on therapy for the moment.” Now, at the most crazy, hectic, dark, place in my career and life, my therapist tells me to pause on therapy. Oh, and she added the National Suicide Hotline number at the bottom of her email. 

So, sadly the story book is still open and there isn’t a happy ending yet.

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I feel like I’m at a standstill in my life and I am trying to consider my friends and loved ones’ advice:  “Therapy is like dating - your first therapist is never your forever therapist,” and “Congrats - you’re on to the next!” or “Oh that’s no big deal just go find another one.” Yet, I can’t seem to “just get back out there!” I can’t help but wonder if it’s just me. 

I know that I’ve only been to one therapist and I might be naive, but I wanted to write this to offer another perspective, as a first-timer. I want to trust the process, but I can’t help but ask myself the following questions: What if a therapist won’t help at all? What if there is no magic cure? How can I take the next step, if I now feel that therapy won’t help?

I really hope I’m wrong. I really hope I can start helping myself. And I really hope that I can get to a place in my life where I am okay with continuing to check in on people in my life, and also be okay with them not checking in on me. I really hope that therapy will become more than just an invoice, I believe it can. I’ve decided to download a therapy app and see where it goes.

To be continued.  

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