Growing up, I would say that I lived a relatively normal childhood. I didn’t always have the best circumstances but I did the best with what I had. Obviously, this didn’t stop me from growing up to be majorly mentally ill. I got diagnosed with my first mental illness early on- I want to say in the summer before 6th grade. My general doctor had noticed some things and made the diagnosis after further examinations. After that, there was a steady increase in how many things I was getting diagnosed with and so I was recommended to a therapist.
However, I didn’t start therapy until the end of my freshman year in high school. I started pretty late because my mother was always hesitant to send me off, but I never really knew why. Whenever my doctor would ask her why I haven’t gone to therapy yet, my mother would just reply that we were working on it. When I would ask, she would tell me that I’m fine and I don’t need to see anyone talk to about my “problems”. I thought this was weird but I let it go.
After my first session, my therapist called my mother into her office and told her about what was said. I felt sort of betrayed by my therapist because I didn’t think she would tell my mother what I told her. After that day, I started lying and being more reserved toward my therapist out of fear that she would report back to my mother. A few weeks into my therapy sessions, my mother told me that I needed to be careful about what I told my therapist. She suggested that it might be for the best if I stopped going altogether. When I questioned her, she said that if I said something incriminating, I could get myself or her in trouble. I thought this was even weirder because there was nothing genuinely bad that my family did to me that I could get in trouble for. She kept telling me that I was fine and that therapy is for people who really need it, not me- a normal girl who grew up with a big normal family. I eventually got pulled out of therapy and only recently started talking to a counselor on occasion.
Anyways, it was really frustrating and annoying to hear my mother constantly tell me that I’m fine just because she didn’t want to accept that she had a child that has mental disabilities. Just because I was diagnosed with MDD or panic disorder, it didn’t mean that I had the plague or that I was insane. If I had known that my mother had my back, things would’ve been a lot easier to handle.
Unruly Bodies 
Hi, growing up and hearing you’re fine and constantly telling yourself that ‘I’m fine’ can be so frustrating to grow up doing that can lead to unhealthy mental habits. Having a therapist you couldn’t even fully trust is disappointing but is common with therapists sharing information to family that you might not want them to share. I believe everyone could benefit from therapy and it doesn’t have to go on forever or for a long period of time, but until someone tries it out with a therapist that works for them, they may never know the benefits of talking with someone and feeling confirmation in simply feeling.
You are not alone, i don’t know why parents don’t care about their child’s mental state. Because it is the most important thing in their child’s developmental process. I guess they accept the fact that their child isn’t okay but maybe acting like everything is fine makes them think the child will think they’re fine too? But it only make their child feel like their parents don’t care about them.
Hi, I am so sorry this happened to you. I agree with everything you said. I dislike a lot of things about how our medical system treats patient confidentiality, but I think these laws differ from state to state. Sometimes I think that the privileges we have in life aren’t worth it when other’s are always holding it against us…
Having any sort of luxury doesn’t make you immune to mental illnesses.
Hey, I am sorry that this happened. I experienced the “everything is alright” as well. Growing up I found out that my mother had been talking antidepressants for some time. I found that quite ironic as there was a period of time in my life that was quite rough and I was basically going through it alone as I had to be strong for my mother. Multiple family members knew what was going on and in the issue, I was not considered a variable that needed to be worried about. Even to this day no one in my family has really mentioned it, they just expected me to be fine and strong. And with my mother being heavily impacted by the incident, I understand why she does not try to bring it up, but it just feels weird that no one has taken 2 seconds and thought of how it affected me.
im sorry for what happened. My mother never wanted to go through therapy as well even when i begged her to go. she had always thought the theorist would give me medication that would cause more harm then good. I often think that my parents dont know what is best for my metal health they think im fine all the time. So i can kind of relate to your post.