My best friend and I are constantly playing phone tag. But there’s one person who promises to have my undivided attention once a week, no matter what: Dr. R; my therapist. For the past two and a half years, we have spent 55 minutes every Tuesday evening together, and for that, I’m grateful.
My adventures in therapy began during my sophomore year in college, when I walked into my campus’s mental health center after a close friend suffered a mental breakdown. We were so alike that I knew that if I didn’t do something, my fate would be similar. Now, five years later, I consider that decision the best choice I’ve ever made.
Just as many of us indulge in weekly nail salon trips to keep up our appearance, therapy sessions are essential to my emotional upkeep. But once I started being open with family, friends, and even acquaintances about going to therapy, I started to realize there are more than a few misconceptions out there about it.
Here are some of the dumbest things I’ve heard people say to me about therapy, and the actual truths about whatreally happens behind the white noise machine.