I graduated from Stony Brook University with a B.A. in psychology. I then went on to a masters program with a sport psychology concentration. I completed the coursework but dropped out before starting my thesis.

None of this makes me qualified to peddle mental health advice. I am not a therapist. I speak from experience only in the hopes that my own journey can be of some assistance to you.

There’s a possibility that if you’re reading this, you already see a therapist. Here’s my take on whether you do or don’t see one.

If you do, fantastic. The topic of mental health is becoming increasingly acceptable. This said, it’s still hard as hell to admit you need help. Most of us (speaking for myself here) only seek help once things have become so unbearable we’re considering no longer participating in life. I’ve spent most of my life not wanting to live. Despite most people's first reaction, I believe my lack of wanting to live was justified given my life experiences.

Life can get better. And we can learn to see beauty in the world again. But I will not lie and say it just takes time. My inner fire can’t burn in full force if I’m lying to you all about this. I worked my ass off. I fought my way out of a future that included nothing but death and agony with my own will and the help of my brothers and sisters. I’m here because I fought and I got lucky. But I got lucky because I fought. Me fighting created the opportunities for many things to swing my way. And after I got out, it was the same thing. I bumbled around in a dissociative darkness for almost a decade. Everything felt impossible. Nobody seemed to understand a shred of anything I was going through. A litany of diagnoses. A pair of psychiatric hospital stays. Even more drugs. I often belittle the pain I experienced through omission. I just don’t talk about it. I see the twist in people's expressions when I‘m brutally honest. Most often they try and spin it into something positive. 

“Yeah, but look at how far you’ve come!”

I respect their words. They are true. They are encouraging. But the pain I’ve always experienced when I smile in response to their words is a slow death.

The truth is: I want to live. For myself. For my brothers and sisters.

Despite what I wrote earlier, I have always wanted to. I suppressed that will. I let the world beat it so far back, I believed it was gone. I would not have done the things I did— if I wanted to truthfully die.

To be blunt: I wanted the pain to end. I didn’t want my life to end. I just believed the pain would forever continue, and that it would actually get worse and not better. I believed the only way to end the pain was to stop living.

That’s why I sought help. Because I was at the end of my rope.

I thought therapy would save me. And my God was I wrong.

So if you’re already in therapy, that’s amazing. But the hard work isn’t reaching out. Most of us see our therapists once a week. That’s one hour out of 168 every week. Most of the work we all do is outside of that.

Here’s where I say something I would have shot myself down for saying two years ago. “Not everyone needs to see a therapist.”

I’m telling you this: Everyone needs to grow. Growth is our birthright. You can do this without a therapist. There are so many teachers with an infinite number of approaches from just as many backgrounds. I think all of us need a mentor. A therapist can be one. A coach can be one. A spiritual leader. Parents. Siblings. Friend. Whoever.

My closest friends all help me grow in ways I could never manage on my own.

But the takeaway I want you to have is that no one will do it for you. If you see a therapist, get ready for some of the hardest conversations you are ever going to have in your life. The work you do there will prepare you to interact with the world in the way you want. And if you don’t have one, I hope you have or find yourself a mentor.

When I slide my thoughts back to my childhood, I can say with incredible certainty that my brothers and sisters forever changed my fate. Our mentors inspire us, show us how to practice love, show us that we are worthy— that we are enough— that we can create something beautiful in this world, and that our beliefs may be wrong. They allow us to blossom into the beautiful titans that we are.

Mental health is so much more than “Are you seeing a therapist.” My inner fire rebels against this notion. Mental health is our health. And I’m realizing at this moment that my health is beautiful and expansive and can never be reduced to a checklist.

I’m realizing how much I identified with seeing a therapist as checking the box of maintaining my mental health. And I’m realizing how much of a disservice to myself I have done.

Let your health bloom. Let your fires blaze to new heights. Let your mental health reconnect with the rest of yourself. Connect with your therapist and your mentors not to fulfill a societal expectation, but because you decide that you will take care of all that you are.