I was indoctrinated from childhood to think psychiatry was quackery. It wasn't simply a tactic of the family secret keeping and isolation, though it served that goal. Before marriage, my mother worked for a VA psychiatrist who displayed "eccentricities" in the office, and I grew up on her stories. So much for the idea that therapy would ever be a good idea. It kept me away from any thought of telling anyone anything until my 30's--and then I was driven by pain with no other ideas of what I could do.

And I do credit therapy as embodied in my T for my healthy life. I can't say therapy in general because I didn't experience therapy except as practiced by my T, and I was in relationship with my T, not therapy. My therapy wasn't about learning techniques to survive; it was about experiencing a bond that had been denied me in my life. And that bond was infused with the wisdom, expertise, compassion and caring of my T. It wasn't a quick fix, nor an easy process--much like life.