For the past few years or so, I have been struggling to find a good therapist in my neighborhood. There are plenty of highly qualified, well-trained ones out there, but so far none that I have met with completed a series of successful sessions to my satisfaction.

Despite having consulted several so-called counselors and mental health professionals in my lifetime, almost all have invalidated the hell out of my feelings, and sometimes even left me leaving unhappier and more miserable than I did going in.

A couple of weeks ago, I finally went back to therapy, because after all this time, I still believe in getting help when you need it. So despite how difficult it has been for me to find good help, I am still proud of myself for reaching out.

Our first session was fine: the ordinary procedure. I filled out some paperwork, introduced myself and managed to sift through as many of my depressive tendencies as possible in 45 minutes without crying.

However, upon the second week, I started to open up more about my obsessive-compulsive tendencies and was completely discredited on the spot. I sat there with a blank, uncomfortable expression on my face every time I was being mocked for them and told I was just being “poked fun at” or had to hear a self-deprecating remark I had made about myself being agreed with.

There is so much wrong with that image. I should not be sitting in a therapist’s office – a place that is meant to be a safe and open space – entirely more anxious and disconcerted than I already am most of the time.

Firstly, if I am confiding in a “professional” about something I am deeply ashamed about and scared to come forward with, there is absolutely 100 percent no room and no reason for laughter.

None whatsoever.

I don’t care if I am making jokes and puns in which I am criticizing and making fun of myself, just because I am doing it does not mean that gives anyone else the right to do the same or join in and make some of their own or even concur with me.

No.

A “professional” would recognize that jokes of that nature, even if they are about the self, are unhealthy and would instead try to teach me how to unlearn that which I have taught myself as a survival tactic and resorted to as a coping mechanism in my dreary world, not invite themselves into the conversation of the battleground of the demons in my mind.

Never, ever should I be laughed at or even with, or feel like I am being scorned at and ridiculed.

I don’t care how irrational or uncommon it seems. I can say so. I can acknowledge that.

I can call myself “crazy”, “weird”, “unstable”; a professional cannot.

As a “professional,” nothing should be unheard of anyway – and even if it is – a “professional” would know how to approach and handle such a situation.

The therapist also irrefutably tried to make me feel bad when I clearly felt extremely excited and had been looking forward to something coming up in my life. When I showed obvious interest and a newfound sense of purpose in it, they hastily swept my enthusiasm under the rug and said something else in its place that she knew would both scare and trigger me, as though they were trying to shut me down.

I don’t know what kind of place I’m going to or what kind of person I’m paying to see every single week to instill mindless fear tactics and have my every self-effacing comment have its own annoying echo.

As a disclaimer, I just want to mention that it isn’t necessarily the fault of the service of its workers per se, as I knew from researching their online profile prior to going in that they didn’t specialize in or cover the particular thing that I was looking for and need help with. I knew beforehand that they didn’t do that kind of work, but I’m guessing that you knew better going into social work or psychology no matter what particular field or area of expertise or what have you then to make people feel badly--that one way or another your job would eventually be to help them, not hurt them.

I’m just guessing.

I mean, what school did you have to go to in order to get a degree in making people feel like crap about themselves? So much for a “professional"…

Then, again, what do I know?

It’s not like my feelings or opinions are valid.

Not even just as a social worker or a shrink, I thought it was just common sense to have some common human decency towards others and their problems. I am learning every day that I am very naive for ever having thought that, and even sometimes still catching myself thinking that--that sometimes even the people that are supposed to protect you will inflict the most damage.

But I don’t think that’s even the worst part.

I think the worst of it is the fact that I couldn’t even get myself to say anything useful all the while I was enduring this shameful treatment coming from a therapist. I – someone who has always been so strong, usually defensive and so capable of protecting themselves – for the first time in seemingly forever--was at a loss for words.

And I know I am strong, no one can tell me otherwise. But, being there, with no words coming out of my mouth, I couldn’t help but feel totally helpless and powerless.

Speechless is an understatement, also a thing I shouldn’t have been. I just didn’t know what to say. All I could do was nervously laugh along and look as unsettled as I did, and for that I feel so guilty because I didn’t do or say anything when I know damn well I ­– of all people – could have stood up for myself like I always have.

Still, not only is it a challenge in and of itself to conjure up something off the top of your head to fire back at someone who is taunting you, but I was just in utter disbelief and in shock of the realization that I was in the presence of someone I was told I should “trust” who totally shredded to pieces any probability of that.

I felt like I was in the fourth grade all over again facing my bully, a nine-year-old me with the words caressing the tip of her tongue but unable to meet the lips.

Later, you think of all the things you could have and should have said and ask yourself, ah… why didn’t I say this?! and why I didn’t I say that?!

But, in the moment, it’s all too overwhelming and your mind just goes blank. Sure, there are a million witty things you could have shot back, but when it’s all just coming at you as fast as it was for me, there is nothing to say to someone so insincere.

Therapist.

Insincere.

Those are two words that should never be paired together, but unfortunately they are paired together a lot of the time because a vast majority of them fail to see what they should really, truly be doing to help their clients.

My therapist should be lifting me up, not shutting me down.

I shouldn’t feel threatened by my therapist or be terrified to blurt out what’s on my mind.

I shouldn’t even have to be in a situation where I have to think of talking back or think of what to say as a means of self-defense.

I shouldn’t be careful and wary of how I voice my concerns in a space where I am literally paying to express myself freely and talk about how I’m feeling as in depth as I want.

I shouldn’t be afraid or feel intimidated to talk to my therapist about my feelings and issues and things that are bothering me or exciting me or upsetting me.

And I certainly shouldn’t be laughed at or teased.

I shouldn’t experience any of these things, ever.

I probably won’t be seeing them again, but who knows how long it will take until I finally find “good” help?

This is the latter portion of the worst of it, how much people seeking help must undergo before they can settle.

It just isn’t cutting it anymore.

We need to do better. I can write article after article after article about just how crucial mental health truly is, but somehow it still doesn’t seem like it gets emphasized enough.

I don’t want anyone having any therapist-related experiences similar to my own, especially not as many as I have had. And I want to do as much as I can to ensure that, even if it means just writing about those experiences.

If you want to help make a difference and help make this change, it needs to start now. I’m going to school to do my part; I want my story to inspire everyone else to do the same.

I want everyone to know that their tales are important and to have their stories heard and their thoughts and feelings validated.

Once we can do that for each other and guarantee everyone’s emotions are being welcomed and accepted, we are just that much closer to healing ourselves and one another and fulfilling the therapy we all really need.