I have seen a therapist off and on since my first panic attack at age 14. Talk therapy (and the delightful mood-soothing properties of 20 mg of Lexapro) are the reason I can put on pants and leave my house in the morning. With their help, I’ve learned how to self-soothe anger and disappointment, combat the negative self-talk that leads to depression, and create boundaries with my loved ones. My current therapist is this rad little old Italian lady who not only gets me but champions my very Jessica-ness. My life is infinitely more manageable for me under her care and as such I am the world’s biggest proponent of talk therapy. [Nuh-uh, I am! -- Editor]
But all of that doesn’t change a separate fact: sometimes what really makes me feel good is retail therapy. Keep reading »






