Early on my therapist said I needed help. I refused to believe. I felt fine. My husband wanted me to go get help. So I did. The therapist kept telling me to come back to talk, which I did, but I wouldn't talk. He said I was playing hide and go seek. Then one day the dam burst and I couldn't stop talking...It is now starting five years with the same therapist. There have been stints in day hospitals, which flopped because I started an argument and the group counselor sided with the other girl and I never went back. I always go back to see this therapist even though I hate going to talk to him. Actually, I never talk when I am in the room so he calls me. I can talk freely if no one is looking at me. I know I had a bout of depression which Cymbalta lifted me out. Then there was anxiety which lorazapam halted. Now I feel I am back in high school dealing with issues that plagued me then but never got help for and it deals with schizo like thoughts and feelings and paranoia. I do like to hide socially but then when I am alone I freak out at the thoughts that run through my head. I am afraid I will end up going down that rabbit hole if I lose touch...so I email my therapist constantly. I am wearing him out and so he told me to find outside support which I did by coming here. Still last night I emailed him three times because I couldn't sleep, couldn't get out of bed to get on my computer, so I grabbed my Iphone and started typing everything that was in my head. When I go back to reread it I will be embarrassed I shared some of that with him. Therapists are saints and mine deserves every penny he's paid. Maybe they should lock me up and take away my phone! Oh yes, I cannot open my front door, even to neighbors...am I shizo?