My Experience with Therapy

A glimpse into what it is like to experience depression and how I feel about therapy. Tips and encouragement on seeking help and finding the right therapist.

By Chloe Sivitz

So, for a long time, and still now, I was struggling with disordered eating, depressive moods, and some social anxiety. Most of this started in middle school, and I hated myself for it. It felt like punishment and I went from experiencing some bouts of depression to feeling tired, sad, empty, and lonely every day. I remember one time really distinctly in seventh grade when my dad and I went to a tennis court to play and I was so excited and happy to be outside but after a few minutes, I suddenly felt so sad, hopeless, and tired all of a sudden. I was so confused why my mood just suddenly switched like that and was kind of mad at myself for ruining our time together. During the summer of 2020, with the pandemic and little social interaction, my condition culminated to its worst. I wouldn’t do any of the activities that made me happy anymore like drawing, painting, going outside, and playing sports because I was perpetually too exhausted and uninterested. I even feared leaving my house because I was convinced people were judging how I looked through their windows as I walked by. A little bit absurd now that I think back.

For me, it was customary to bottle up my emotions and thoughts because I was afraid of bothering other people or being a nuisance. I would never feel comfortable talking about deeply emotional subjects or anything serious because I was so scared of judgment from the people around me. Of course, it was completely unreasonable for me to think that my best friends or family were going to think less of me because I wasn’t always the happy and bubbly person that I pretended to be all the time. However, when I began feeling depressed, all I could think about was how much other people would hate me if they knew who I really was, solidifying my fear of opening up to others.

With this came anxiety in social situations, keeping me from speaking up and sometimes even putting myself out there for academic opportunities because I was afraid of working with other people. That’s when I started realizing that this was going to be a bigger issue than I initially thought. I’m very reliant on my academic career, and when I realized that I had been passing up so many opportunities to build up my resume and experience just because the description mentioned: “group discussions” or “presentations”, I knew I needed to try and work through my issues rather than around them.

The most difficult part of my journey with therapy was asking for help. I knew I needed to ask my parents and tell them what was wrong, but it almost felt like there was a physical barrier preventing me from telling them. I’m being serious. When I would open my mouth to try and start a conversation about my problems or ask about therapy, I literally couldn’t get anything out. They would just stare at me while I awkwardly tried to speak but ended up just saying “never mind”. But when they found me crying in a corner every other day they finally kind of gathered that they’d need to pressure me into just telling them, which eventually worked. If this is what is preventing you from getting help, know that you are not a nuisance to your loved ones just because you can’t do everything on your own. I was convinced I could help myself get over it, but after years of flip-flopping between getting better and worse, I knew that maybe I needed outside help, which is NOT A CRIME.

The first day I had therapy was over facetime, which isn’t very conventional but is pretty convenient. My therapist tried asking me why I came but I was so used to keeping things to myself that I just said “nothing”... and then realized that I was already talking to a therapist which obviously meant that it wasn’t nothing and I felt kind of dumb.

The thing that I think movies don’t show is that a therapist is not going to barrage you with questions until you finally burst out the underlying issue that you knew all along but were too afraid to say. I had no specific event I could pinpoint for my problems and to this day I’m still not sure what mix of factors are still affecting me. When I was uncomfortable talking about whether I was having a bad week in terms of eating or if I had managed to talk to any of my friends or go outside, I wasn’t pressed about the topic. Therapy is what you make of it, and for me, it still took me a long time to open up to my doctor. What helped me was associating our conversation with an airtight container. Nothing I ever said to her was going to be heard by anyone else and she was just a stranger who did not have any reason to judge me. So why not just release everything I had bottled up that week in one hour?

So, did therapy actually help me? It’s complicated. In some ways, I’m still just the same person I was before, but I think overall I have changed for the better. Checking in with someone every week about my problems held me accountable to try and work on myself and improve. Whenever I hit milestones in my recovery that I didn’t feel comfortable sharing with people in my life, telling my therapist felt like such a relief and really encouraged me to try harder so I could have that same feeling of pride the next time we met. It never hit me how burdensome keeping everything to myself was until I could tell someone else about it. Sometimes though, I fell back into my old ways a bit and felt like it was the end of the world because I had to start over, but having a person let me know they believed in me and weren’t disappointed that I wasn’t perfect lessened the stress of getting back up again. I still get anxious in social situations, but recognizing that the negative thoughts I have are delusions helps me to sometimes convince myself to do things outside of my comfort zone.

I think that knowing you don’t need to be totally cured for therapy to work would have been comforting to know before I started. I sometimes felt pressured to lie and say I was completely fine when I wasn’t, but it doesn’t help anyone to lie about how you’re doing, especially to the person specifically there to listen to you when you aren’t ok.

I’m not in therapy anymore because I decided to stop after a little more than 7 months. In my case, I take antidepressants to help keep myself from falling back down that hole, so the medication has made living day to day much more bearable. But I know that the medication alone wouldn’t have been enough because it doesn’t address any of the underlying issues to your problems. Therapy was still a crucial part of my journey to better mental and physical health. It’s not a guaranteed road to happiness, but it can be there to support you as you’re making your way there.

One more thing. If you feel like you and your therapist aren’t vibing, they don’t listen to what you say, or they just aren’t really helping you at all, SAY SOMETHING (not to them but maybe to your parents or guardians). Not all therapists are going to be right for you and if you feel like you aren’t making any progress with this person, it might be best to try someone else. Don’t feel pressured to keep going when you know it’s just a waste of time because that isn’t helping anyone, especially yourself.

I hope this helped some people who were looking to know more about therapy! Feel free to send me any questions and I’ll try to respond if I know the answer.