The Unwanted Money Anxiety From Therapy Only Made My Mental Health Worse
Feeling depressed? See a therapist. Struggling with traumas? See a therapist. Everybody knows to advise someone who’s struggling with mental health issues to see a professional. Yet, nobody ever considered about the cost.
“I think you should see a therapist.”
I’ve heard this sentence countless times. I admit I’m not at the pink of mental health. I’ve been living a rather (what I like to describe) hellish life ever since a heartbreak a year ago. Ya ya, a heartbreak is no big deal, but I’m not here for you to invalidate my pain and feelings. I’ve had a fair share of heartbreaks in life but this last one hit hard. Hard, as in, I-couldn’t-live-a-normal-life-anymore hard. Difficult, as in, I-had-to-change-my-name-because-I-was-traumatised-by-my-own-name difficult.
So I really don’t give a damn if you roll your eyes and think, “What a weakling. It’s just a heartbreak.”
For a year, I lived without an identity. I was simply in pain, mentally. I wasn’t myself; I didn’t know who I was. I cried almost every morning because I was awake, because I was not dead. When I was told by the doctor that I might have cancer, my first thought wasn’t “This is impossible. I still want to live”. It was “I wish he was here”. I fell asleep from the anaesthetic of my cancer surgery praying I’ll die. And unsurprisingly, I had a mental breakdown when I woke up from my cancer surgery and realised I’d survived.
For a year, I did the bare minimum to live. I felt like I’d spend almost all my energy simply breathing and picking myself up to complete basic human needs. I was worried about myself but I didn’t know what to do. So when my friend suggested me to see a therapist, I thought there’s no harm trying.
At that time, I was earning peanuts. My pay was (and still is, despite the new job) disgustingly low that I really contemplated to just kill myself when 5 different mental clinics quoted me at least $200 for a therapy session. $200 for ONE session. That’s half of my salary for 4 session a month. I ended up going for a trainee psychologist that cost $60 per session. Even with that fee, I felt that going for therapy simply contributed to even more unnecessary anxiety and stress. Day and night, I’d think about what I could do with those $240 if I didn’t choose to go for therapy. I could’ve saved more, or easily paid off my bills, or eat better instead of the occasional one meal a day.
10 sessions later, I decided to stop going for therapy. The stress and anxiety from the fees were simply way too overwhelming. I couldn’t sleep at night, I became so obsessed with checking my bank account every day, and I felt that my therapist was not helpful at all. Immediately after I’d stopped the sessions, my mind felt lighter. I was still absolutely broken from the heartbreak, but not having to worry about squeezing out $240 every month (not inclusive of petrol & parking fees) removed a huge burden in my life.
I spent the next 11 months barely hanging off a thin thread trying to stay alive. The irony about quitting therapy is that I was then bombarded with all the “what ifs” of my decision. “What if therapy would’ve worked for me if I’d stayed on for 11 months?”, “What if what I need really is therapy?”, “I think I need therapy”.
Money anxiety resolved.
Emotional anxiety heightened.
What. The. Crap.
In December 2020, 11 months after I’d stopped my therapy session with the trainee therapist, I visited my GP for a physical health issue. He immediately noticed my ghostly appearance and probed into my mental health. He then instructed me to complete the Zung Self-Rating Depression Scale questionnaire (which returned with a very alarming result) and referred me to a psychiatrist.
I put off scheduling an appointment with the psychiatrist as I thought I was getting better. Then, I had a depressive episode that plunged my body weight down by 2kg in 24 hours. I didn’t eat for 4 days and when I did, I’d throw up. It was a year after the heartbreak happened and I realised I was still mentally ill like the day it happened. So I rang the psychiatrist and 3 weeks later, I met him in a high-class-looking clinic that sent chills down my spine (and wallet).
I spent 1.5 hours filling in the psychiatrist with the full story of the heartbreak and my traumas, only for him to say, “You seem to have Borderline Personality Disorder. I want to put you on meds to help relieve the symptoms. You’ll see me once a week and after 6 months, I’m confident you’ll be good to go.”
Wow, 6 months on meds and I’d be healed? Sounds like a huge scam! I walked out of his office feeling like crap. Borderline Personality Disorder? No way.
Just when I was trying to tidy up my feelings, the receptionist handed me the bill for $300. I made the payment, walked out of the clinic, and had an anxiety attack so bad that I crouched by the roadside trying to calm myself before have to pay $4 parking fees and drive 45 mins home. The whole experience was simply overwhelming.
Money or mental health?
That’s a question that really killed me countless times. I spent the next 2 weeks deciding if I should seek professional help for my mental health. I spoke with all my close friends and all of them strongly recommended me to either: stick with the psychiatrist and try out meds; or opt for a therapist for psychotherapy. I then shared my financial concerns and while they all empathised with it, they felt that the professional therapist would be greatly beneficial for me.
I weighed the pros and cons for a long time and decided to give therapy another try. This time, I went for a professional therapist (not some trainee/master’s student) specialising in transference-focused psychotherapy. The first thing I told my therapist was my financial issue and he kindly offered me a lower price of $200 per session. FML.
I decided to stick to it before my mental health really takes a toll on my whole life. However, $200 per session ($800 a month) is simply KILLING ME. A quarter of my salary goes to therapy, and just imagine how much I could have saved in a year if that $800 is put into my savings instead! After 6 sessions later, I’m here feeling extremely overwhelmed once again by the money anxiety. I’ve started tracking my finances very closely, counting all my pennies because every little matters. I avoid going out and had deleted all the shopping apps on my phone so that I don’t spend on anything. Heck, I even contemplated selling feet pics online to earn some extra bucks.
Money anxiety from therapy is a real thing. Almost everybody automatically recommends therapy when someone portrays mental health illness/struggles but nobody ever mentions about the added stress from the fees. Yes, you can argue that there are lots of cheaper options online such as TalkSpace and Better Help but just because they’re more “convenient” and “affordable”, doesn’t mean they’re suitable for everyone seeking help. Not to mention, the cost for these online therapy aren’t cheap for those living in countries where their currency is weaker.
If therapy is the only time you can let loose and share your darkest secrets, how do you tell your therapist that their fees are killing you? Trust me, I’ve tried Googling for ways to communicate this issue with my therapist (and i’m sure some of you have done this too) but the results were horrible. I’ve tried telling my therapist about my concerns (again, you may have tried this too) only to pay the same amount and having an increasing guilt within me for trying to request for a lower fee.
Having a healthy mental health is a wish I’ve grown to beg the universe for. When I was young, I used to tell myself I’ll never be a materialistic person who chases branded goods and luxurious experiences. Now that I’m an adult, I realise that chasing for healthy mental and physical health is even scarier than being superficial.
