I’m all in.
Grew up in a family where therapy/mental health care was joked about as un-manly, sissy, ******, weak, etc.
That had deep roots, and prevented me from seeking necessary care when I was in my teens/twenties. To be fair, nothing in terms of bipolar or mania or things on a large scale that would indicate a serious mental health crisis. But there were always signs of clinical depression that neither I nor my fam recognized.
When I was in my late 20s, in grad school, a confluence of events (death of my stepdad, simultaneous break-up with a girlfriend, a very serious health scare, and unwarranted feelings of inadequacy in grad school) led me to drop out and led to a years-long depression.
Because I dropped out of a PhD program, (never actually received the MA—completed all coursework but the thesis, since I thought I’d return for the whole boat), I spiraled deeper.
That spiral lasted for ~7 years.
It wasn’t till I moved to NC several years later and began dating a woman who worked in public health/mental health advocacy—and upon her urging—that I sought out a therapist.
Best move I’ve ever made.