I didn’t do normal kid rebellious stuff. I didn’t sneak out, I wasn’t on the phone late. I didn’t really go out with friends much at all. I was an easy teenager. I made good grades, felt bad when I didn’t. I was a Girl Scout.

But there were warning signs. There had to be. I didn’t get this depressed and anxious overnight. I remember one summer in college I took too many Tylenol on purpose and was up all night vomiting and crying. No one intervened.

No one ever did. I went to therapy once as a kid for me. My mom told the therapist I needed to talk about my dad. The therapist told her I wasn’t ready. It wasn’t my dad I needed to talk about.

I want help. I need help. I ask. I don’t get it. Or I do but it’s not the kind I want. People aren’t proactive enough to not require asking. People aren’t observant enough to notice the need.

Maybe help isn’t want I want. Maybe it’s validation.

I need a coach. Does that exist for adults?

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