We get a lawyer to do our legal stuff, a mechanic to fix our car, a hairdresser to tame our locks, an accountant to take care of our taxes. Why is there still a stigma around therapy? 

I’m not ashamed to say that I’ve been in therapy four times. And I think it’s awesome. 

The first time, I was 22, unhappy and suffering from anorexia. It might have helped, if I hadn’t soon left Australia for Europe with the idea that I would also be leaving all my problems behind. (Narrator: she did not leave all her problems behind) 

 A decade later, after my burnout, a therapist helped me unpack what was happening and find a way forward. It was essential to my recovery and one of the key reasons I have thrived in the years since.

Then, after enrolling in a yoga teacher training, I decided to get therapy for lingering eating disorder issues. I didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of standing in front of a yoga class if I was also bulimic. Six months of group therapy (yes, group therapy, which had me terrified but was nowhere near as excruciating as I expected – thank all the gods) and I was recovered. 

Today, I’m seeing a therapist about once a month, to deal with the raft of crap, particularly family and childhood-related, that has risen to the surface of late. It’s been super helpful. 

The way I see therapy, I could spend 10 years by myself, trying to untangle my issues and their causes, or I could sort this crap out with a therapist in a matter of months.

And life is too short to waste all that time trying to lead myself through this process. It would be almost as disastrous as me trying to repair my own car, or computer. I.e. totally.

As a life coach I have the tools to do the work myself – but not the objectivity. Same goes for friends and family, who are amazing to talk to and care so much, but don’t have the professional training or requisite objectivity that makes a therapist so valuable.

Therapy empowers me and forms an essential part of my self-care. What’s not to love?