In this creative nonfiction piece for Literary Hub, one woman shares her story of trauma, depression, and suicidality, and recounts the unconventional approach of the therapist who helped her heal.
“The first time I met my new therapist I did not know she believed in fairies. I did not know she would give me tarot cards as a birthday present. I did not know we would go night swimming together in a lake in upstate New York. I did not know that one evening when I was noodling around near the edge of safety she would text me, ‘I love you so fucking much you have no idea!’ I did not know she would hold me for hours while I cried. I did not know we would set fire to things I hated and grind the ashes into the earth. I did not know she would come to my house and remove all my dead mother’s underwear from my drawer and throw it in the garbage. I did not know I would tell her things I had never told anyone. I did not know she would understand what they meant. When I walked into her office for the first time I saw only that she was smart and tall and unfazed by my apparent condition, and that she had the same jeans on as I did. I saw in her face that she had not always been happy. I saw that she had woken up in the wrong places and bargained with God. These are things crazy people can sometimes spot in each other. I was glad for that at least. It is hard to lay bare one’s hopeless soul to someone who has only ever lost a cat and shops at Lands’ End.”
