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Informationen zum Autor Rinny Perkins Klappentext A debut illustrated manifesto by Rinny Perkins about what she's learned as a queer Black woman through the art of self-validation. Leseprobe Relax, Relate, Release The first time I went to therapy, I was around the age of six or seven. My parents divorced when I was a year old, and my dad didn’t even live in the same city as me. I didn’t think going to therapy was a big deal then, because let’s face it, I was a kid who got to sit around and play with toys for an hour while a therapist tried to coax me into talking about my feelings. Spoiler alert: I was only there for the toys. To this day, I’m not clear on why my mom thought I needed to see a therapist then. I never had any trouble in school outside of talking too much. It wasn’t until I was about eleven or twelve that I went to therapy again. Naturally, by this time, the stigma associated with going to see a mental health professional rubbed off on me. I was convinced it wasn’t for people like me. It was for kids with “real problems,” the ones who would get in-school suspension for setting off stink bombs in the hallways or talking back to teachers. It wasn’t for me! I was a cheerleader! I was on the honor roll! I got the role of Aunt in the school’s production of Cinderella (when I should’ve been cast as the lead, but that’s another story). I wasn’t a problem child, so I didn’t need therapy.The lie detector determined that was a lie. I’d ask my mom why she was sending me to therapy. “Do you think there’s something wrong with me?” Shejust dropped me off and picked me up as if it was a piano lesson that she was never involved in. Because of this, I was admittedly resentful and defiant throughout those sessions in my adolescence. Which brings me to my point: Just because you think you’re one of the “regular girls” who listened to Ashanti and Panic! at the Disco and enjoyed eating pizza and maintained perfect attendance in school doesn’t mean you can’t benefit from therapy. Regular girls go to therapy, sis. I first went to therapy of my own accord around 2011 after a breakup that brought on my first dance with depression. Naturally, I thought I couldjust get through it on my own, but it had been months and I still hadn’t gotten through it. I had zero appetite. I couldn’t sleep, and I woke up every night at 3 am. I needed help. I was lucky enough to have health insurance at the time, so I began researching online and I found a Black psychologist that was near my school who I could see. Fourth Time’s a Charm In 2016, I quit a job that gave me so much anxiety, I couldn’t even sleep at night. I was constantly worried I would lose everything since everything depended on my boss’s mood, which tended to fluctuate a lot (I was fired and hired twice in one month). But what about money? This time, I was no longer on my parent’s insurance, but fortunately there are counseling centers that offer low-cost and sliding scale sessions. I found a local counseling center in LA that offered a sliding scale program. Because of the income-based fee schedule, I was able to see a therapist weekly for a couple years for no more than $13 a session. The downside was the waiting list was about six weeks long, and I didn’t get to choose my therapist. However, I lucked out and got one that worked for me until I found someone new with the insurance I eventually secured. Therapy has given me the tools to establish boundaries and unpack the traumas that I would’ve otherwise overlooked on my personaljourney to self-healing. I Mean Fifth Time’s a Charm Today, I regularly go to therapy. I’m blessed to have insurance provided through my union. I started sessions when I was stuck in a cycle of a toxic relationship and roommate situation that drained almost every bit of my being. I am now in a place where I feel more assertive in myself. I’m prioritizing my goals. I’m not proc...
