God and Wine

A lot of people have read my earlier post ( For Colored Girls Who Aren't Afraid to Acknowledge Their Therapist, Pt. 1 ) about being a strong black woman who unashamedly has a therapist. I've gotten a few comments like: "Mia! You've always seemed like you had it all together! I'm surprised." "Mia, this is my life! I've had/I'm having trouble finding a therapist too!" "I had no idea therapy costs that much! Why won't insurance cover mental health care like they cover everything else?" 1. So, let me say this: I'm grateful to know that I am not alone in this process--that there are friends and colleagues who are doing or want to do work on themselves so that they, too, can be healthy. My generation might be deemed selfish or self-absorbed by older onlookers, but many of us are outchea tryna to cultivate the best version of ourselves--the version our families and communities expect from us. We ain't jus

I'm a strong, black woman. And I have a therapist. I don't just have a therapist. I need her these days. In the height of summer, I sought much needed help in the midst of a bout of depression. She was hard to find. Having been in therapy before and not being completely satisfied or comfortable, I decided to be intentional this time about who and what I was looking for. In 2015, I sought therapy and got a recommendation from a colleague. My only qualification at the time was that she be a woman of faith and preferably, a woman of color. I ended up with a middle aged Asian woman who lived in Westchester and loosely practice Christianity. It was cool at first. And expensive! My insurance wouldn't cover up front costs, so I paid out of pocket--$190 a session-- with the hopes that Blue Cross Blue Shield would reimburse ya girl 80%. They did...after a month of submitting paperwork. I was poor and unemployed but I needed help. The therapy didn't last. I