How the ‘do I become a therapist?’ era. journey unfolded.

It all started in when it was panic attack central and I’m there trying to work out what the hell was going on with me. I read something from a therapist off topic but very important. It was about how beliefs are formed, how our environments in childhood play a part.

And it hit me like a lightning bolt.

Suddenly, so many things made sense.

The way I saw myself. The things I thought I deserved. The things I had accepted.

And I just remember thinking…

Oh.

This really does explain a lot.

That was one of the first moments I realised that the sense of injustice I felt every time the problem was put onto me when in fact I wasn’t actually the problem, made sense.

There was a reason.

And if I hadn’t known that, how many other people didn’t know it either?

That was the moment something really shifted. It sparked such a deep desire to find a way to help other people understand this too, knowing the consequences of what those beliefs can do to you.

That was the beginning of the fire.

Hello Purpose? Is that you?…

So naturally, after this lightning bolt moment, I thought right then, I should probably do something useful with this.

Lovely. Inspiring. Very noble.

Tiny problem.

I had absolutely no idea how.

Also, the bigger issue is I’m still completely wrecked and greatly needing support.

At the time, the expectation around me was that I should somehow get magically better and become independent again, and quickly.

There was also a therapist at the time very much in the “right Laura, time to get a job now” camp.

So, no pressure.

The traditional route into psychology or therapy felt out of reach.

So I started looking at alternatives.

And this, my friends, was my unwelcome introduction to just how unregulated some of that world really is.

I found a training course. Expensive, of course. Promising, of course. Sounding very convincing, of course.

And at first I thought maybe this is it. Maybe this is the route. Maybe I can learn something helpful, heal myself, get some answers, and use it to help other people too.

Then I got in there and thought…

Absolutely not.

Now, I’m not saying every single thing in that world is useless. Some of it has a place. Some of it can be helpful in the right hands, in the right context.

But the fact that somebody can do a couple of weeks of training and then be encouraged to go and work with trauma, anxiety, or PTSD, while also discrediting proper evidence-based treatment like CBT, genuinely boggles the mind.

In fact it makes me very angry, and here’s where I say grrrrr.

People being given very serious responsibility with nowhere near enough depth, safeguarding, or understanding is terrifying.

So I walked away.

A lot poorer, a lot less impressed, and with a much stronger sense of what I definitely did not want to be.

Deflated as now I had started to feel like I’d found my purpose and it just didn’t seem possible, and I sure as hell did not want to go back to a 9 to 5 marketing job. I had done my time.

What does one do in such a situation?

I already had a camera from the content I was originally meant create, so I thought fine, I’ll do photography instead.

Seems reasonable.

So the next chapter began, which mostly involved me asking Google things like, how do you use a camera, and what is the exposure triangle???

In my Photography era, "Yeah, baby, yeah!", "Smashing!", "Groovy!", "Do I make you…. Never mind

Anyway while I was trying to make photography work, things got worse. A lot worse.

By that point my window of tolerance was not just a bit off.

It was basically in another postcode.

But nobody seemed especially interested in that.

As mentioned previously, nobody was properly looking at my history, my body, the severity of what had happened, how prolonged and sustained it had been, or the fact that my body had never really had the chance to heal.

I was told I didn’t have PTSD I was told my trauma had never really had an impact. I was told all my symptoms were basically anxiety.

So that’s what I believed, and sadly it made me label all my past experiences from the abuse and injuries as just anxiety.

Here’s the thing.

When you’ve got multiple professionals all telling you the same thing, mixed with my personality, my ambition, and my tendency to go at advice like a bunker prepper who’s just been told the sirens have started, you’ve got a beautiful recipe for absolute disaster.

I was doing exactly what I was being told to do.

And it made me worse. Much worse.

It wasn’t intentional, and I get that, I do.

There were many factors that contributed to making it hard to spot.

Yes there are some bad apples in that world, but the vast majority of therapists and healthcare professionals want the same thing. To help people with the correct help.

Gaps in training or awareness, plus the way the system is set up, can make that tricky.

I think when these things are addressed with compassion, education, and accountability, it can make a big difference to the clients being treating.

Where does all of this leave me? I explain more in part 7.

I kept trying to think of ways to balance my recovery, future plans, finances, and staying true to what I felt my purpose was, along with a lot of uncertainty.