When I talked to my Columbia-approved therapist about my seasonal depression, I was expecting to get some sort of validation, information, medication, or even sedation—instead, nothing. No “Well……….. what do you think that means?” No “You can’t control the situation but you can control your reaction.” No sagging green couch or blaming my father. I would’ve even appreciated a nice long “Mmmmmmhmmmmmm.”
Instead, my therapist simply told me to walk off my seasonal depression. She even wrote a prescription! Apparently, because it’s “sunny out” and “not even that cold,” and I “kind of look like I need a kick in the pants anyways,” I have no choice but to trudge through Riverside Park every morning. No SSRIs or SNRIs here—just WALKs.
At this point, I have no other option than my Columbia-approved therapist. If you see me walking around campus, just give me a pat on the back and maybe an edible.
