15 May Therapy Was Taboo in My Household. Turns Out, It’s the Magic I Needed

“Growing up in an African American household, therapy wasn’t just discouraged — it was taboo,” writes the author (not pictured). But it helped her “heal and grow beyond the pain and unfortunate circumstances” in her life. (Photo by TopSphere Media on Unsplash)

Editor’s Note: This is part of our coverage for Mental Health Awareness Month, reflecting the theme of this year’s campaign by the National Alliance on Mental Illness: “In every story, there’s strength.”

Commentary, Arionna White

Growing up in an African American household, therapy wasn’t just discouraged — it was taboo. If the topic came up, the response was something like this:

“You don’t go around sharing family business.”

“So you want to just air our dirty laundry like that to anybody?”

“Are you crazy? Cause if you need to talk to someone, you crazy.”

Even the word “therapy” was treated like voodoo. You just don’t do it. Don’t even say it. The very word was talked down until it stopped being talked about. 

It wasn’t until I became an adult that I realized without any changes in my life there will be consequences I may not be ready for. I lacked the skills to process all the pain I had accumulated over the years. My behavior did not reflect how I wanted to be seen as a person, and all I knew was what I’ve seen in life and what I’ve experienced. 

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Knowing that I lacked those basic fundamental tools needed to be the best version of myself made me seek out therapy. The process of therapy was hard. It was embarrassing and uncomfortable to tell someone I did not know well my secrets, to show them what I’ve buried about myself or my past. Not only having to say it out loud to someone but also to face the reality of every situation. At times, I felt like I wanted to give up, but I really wanted to be better not only for myself but my kids as well. I didn’t just want change. I wanted to heal and grow beyond the pain and unfortunate circumstances that occured in my life; I just didn’t know how.

How do you deal with PTSD from domestic violence, when everyone around you just says, “Move on,” but you can still smell, see and feel a person who isn’t there?

How do you deal with trauma — not just the trauma that’s at the forefront of your mind but the childhood trauma that’s stuck to you like oil you can’t scrub away?

How do you deal with abuse — not only with what may have been done to you but what you have done to yourself because of negative beliefs?

And one of the most important questions of all: How do I regulate my emotions, especially when they are at their highest?

That is when I figured out the importance of therapy. It’s finding someone who is a neutral party in your life that you can be comfortable with and pouring out what you hide from the world. You can show them the raw version of yourself: your hurt, your disappointment, your anger, and they give you different tools to see what helps you and what doesn’t. 

The toolbox that you and that therapist develop is full of activities, exercises, mantras, etc. to help whenever you are going through something. With it, you handle difficult situations better than before. You get the space and time to sit and tackle each topic you want and try to break down the situations and emotions involved. They help you seperate yourself from your pain and your old ways of thinking to process things in a healthier light and be able to heal and grow from that knowledge. 

I learned to accept my past and others’ past mistakes because I cannot change the past or dictate things that are out of my control. I was taught how to assertively address conflicts, state what I need and what I am comfortable with in any setting. Without crashing out.

But my favorite tool of all has been establishing and maintaining boundaries that help me keep my peace.

I was taught therapy was voodoo, but truthfully? It’s exactly the kind of magic I needed.