I'm gonna be straight with you guys - six months ago, if you told me I'd be writing about therapy, I would've laughed in your face. Not because I thought I was too cool for it, but because I genuinely believed it was just expensive complaining to a stranger who nods and says "how does that make you feel?"
But here I am at 20, and honestly? Therapy might be the most real thing I've done for myself.
My therapist, Dr. Martinez, does something weird - we walk. Like, actual walking outside instead of sitting in some sterile office. First session, I thought she was just trying to be the "cool therapist," but now I get it. Something about moving makes it easier to talk without feeling like I'm under a microscope.
During one of our walks through the park near her office, she asked me why I always assume my friends are annoyed with me when they don't text back immediately. I started to give my usual "I don't know, I just do" response, but then she asked me to think about the first time I remember feeling that way.
Suddenly I'm remembering being 12, texting my older brother about some video game, and him not responding for hours. When he finally did, he said he was "busy with his real friends." That hit different as a kid. Dr. Martinez helped me see how that one moment created this whole pattern where silence = rejection in my brain.
The depression I've been dealing with isn't the dramatic, can't-get-out-of-bed kind you see in movies. It's more like this constant low-level static that makes everything feel harder than it should be. Getting to class feels like walking through sludge. Hanging out with friends exhausts me even when I have fun. I just thought I was lazy or broken.
But Dr. Martinez started pointing out patterns I never noticed:
The Sunday Spiral: Every Sunday around 6 PM, I'd get this crushing anxiety about the week ahead. We traced it back to how my parents used to fight every Sunday night about money when I was in middle school. My brain learned that Sunday evening = stress incoming, even though my current life is nothing like that.
The Success Sabotage: Whenever something good happened - good grade, girl I liked texted me back, whatever - I'd immediately start waiting for the other shoe to drop. Like, actively looking for reasons why it wouldn't last. Turns out this started in high school when my parents got divorced right after I made varsity soccer. Young me connected "good things happening" with "life falling apart."
The Comparison Trap: I'd scroll through Instagram and TikTok feeling like everyone else had figured out this whole "being 20" thing while I was just pretending. Dr. Martinez asked me to pay attention to what I was actually seeing vs. what I was assuming. Spoiler alert: 30-second highlight reels aren't real life documentation.
One day we were walking past this group of college kids having what looked like the perfect picnic - laughing, looking effortlessly cool, probably planning their amazing weekend plans. I made some comment about how I never feel that carefree.
Dr. Martinez asked, "What if one of them just failed a midterm? What if another one is worried about their parents' marriage? What if the guy who seems most confident just got rejected by someone he really liked?"
It sounds simple, but it genuinely never occurred to me that other people might be performing happiness the same way I do. That maybe my assumption that everyone else has it figured out is just... wrong.
She also got me thinking about this thing I do where I replay embarrassing moments from like three years ago at 2 AM. Apparently, this is called rumination, and it's not actually productive problem-solving like I thought. It's more like mental self-harm. Learning that it had a name and that it was a thing people do made me feel less like a weirdo.
Look, I was worried about the stigma too. I worried people would think I was "crazy" or weak. I worried about it affecting future relationships or jobs somehow. But you know what's actually weak? Staying stuck in the same patterns that make you miserable because you're scared of what people might think.
Most of my friends have been cool about it. A few even said they'd been thinking about trying therapy themselves. Turns out, a lot of us are dealing with similar stuff - we just don't talk about it because we're all trying to look like we have our shit together.
The ones who made jokes or seemed uncomfortable? That says more about their own stuff than mine.
I'm not "cured" or whatever. I still have bad days. I still sometimes spend too long on social media comparing myself to people. I still get that Sunday anxiety sometimes.
But now I notice these things happening instead of just being trapped in them. I have actual tools instead of just "tough it out" or "try to think positive." And honestly, understanding why my brain does certain things has made me way less angry at myself.
Dr. Martinez helped me see that my depression isn't some character flaw - it's my brain trying to protect me based on old information. Learning to update that information is work, but it's work that actually leads somewhere.
For anyone on the fence, if you're reading this and thinking about therapy but aren't sure, here's what I wish someone had told me: it's not about being broken. It's about understanding how you work so you can work better.
Yeah, it costs money (though my school's counseling center has affordable options). Yeah, it takes time. Yeah, it can be uncomfortable talking about your stuff.
But staying stuck costs more in the long run. And honestly? Walking around understanding yourself is pretty powerful.
You don't have to wait until you're in crisis. You don't have to earn the right to get help. You just have to be tired enough of your own patterns to try something different.
Max P., a 20-year-old college student.