I remember the week I tried to get a therapist. I’d been on antidepressants for three years, and was still struggling with how to function on an everyday level. That week, I was exhausted and panicked, and turned to the internet to find potential therapists to help me cope.
In hindsight, the first phone call wasn’t as disastrous as it seemed at the time. But I still recall the immediate warmth rising to my cheeks with the therapist’s impatience. She charged USD 150 per session, and immediately asked if I could afford that. My voice stammered. She continued, “What would be a good price for you?”
I do not barter a lot, much less with therapists, so as my mouth opened to respond, my voice betrayed me and let out only a small whimper. “Right. I can cut down to 100 a week,” she responded.