I am on mobile and overall am poor at spelling and English as a whole (it's my first and only language but I'm just garbage at it). As some side information before the whole confession, my parents are divorced and have stuck me directly in the center of their failed marriage. They made it clear for years, since I could remember, that it was somehow my job to deal with the other person in this whole issue, even regarding the legal issues (times I got to spend with one parent, how I had to fight for going into sports when I was 5 because neither of them wanted to see each other, would be screamed at until I cried because one parent told me it one thing was a nono, told I don't have a backbone because my other parent said no to complying with a 5 year old). Since then they have gotten better and I don't hate them anymore, but this does play a pretty serious role in my reasoning for wanting to see a therapist.

I have had symptoms of metal illness for years. Some very classic signs of depression and anxiety since I was 6 (loneliness, insomnia, lack of eating (had a period of time where I was forced to eat when I was 8 for almost 2 months because I was anxious and my family made it about my weight [I wasn't even over weight or close to it]), over eating, overly emotional, self hatred, hitting myself [self harm], faking physical illness to escape school and social interaction and a suicide threat when I was 8) and have vivid memories of my first ever babysitter having her boyfriend over where he would show me porn and his penis. None of which my parents seemed to take into consideration as a sign of being problematic, more as just a sign of weakness and was rather vocal about it with the whole "you're a follower and not a lwader" horse shit that I resent now (only told my mom about the sexual assault thing and she seemed upset for a whole of 10 minutes before carrying on like nothing happened). It only got worse with age and the self harm became more violent, the insomnia is at it's worse, have 2 actual failed suicide attempts I managed to talk myself down from (two attempts at strangulation with a thin scarf, untied myself because I didn't want to fail it and get yelled at), and self medication has been caffeine, cigarettes and alcohol and I've done the best I can for still living at home to reach complete isolation. My eating went from 3 full meals a day to one. No one thought or thinks there's any issue with me still.

I and my dad finally got into a severe argument about how HE doesn't feel loved and how HE is suffering because I'm a selfish daughter. My grandmother got involved and scolded me for not living him enough. I managed to scream over them that there is something wrong with me and I need help. They finally caved in and offered to drive me wherever I needed to go. We went to my incompetent family doctor that made me take a test and on a scale of 1 to 10, tell him how depressed, anxious and suicidal I was. On a piece of paper with a pen. He was the best outlite we had at the time. I was given a prescription for Effexor, told to take it once a day for 8 weeks until I saw a therapist. Took them home and had my grandmother flat out tell me "You know I don't like these/believe in these, right?" (Was one or the other, I'm trying to keep it as close to the actual events as I can).

Trying to get ahold of the therapist office was hell. A cat and mouse game with no actual reason for such a game. They'd call me in school, in a class and after I'd call back and say "I cannot answer right now, please call back at 11:30 when my lunch would start." They'd call back almost an hour after the time given. After the call, they said they'd call me back sometime within the next week. Never a specific time. I told them I have school and a job, but neither of that was taken into consideration by who ever was at the office and they knew for a fact that I was the one making the appointment and wanting to see them. They knew I was doing this by myself and I'll give them some credit, they didn't give up on me until I got there and had my hopes up. This when on for months. So long I was no longer allowed to go into the medication prescribed to me because I needed a therapist to sign off on the next prescription I needed. In that time, it worked so much in improving just little things that snowballed. It was easier to sleep, to deal with people, I did not lose my temper as quickly as I used to, I felt like I could actually forgive some of the shit my parents did to me. I was able to stand up for myself and argue why what someone said was wrong, but I didn't have the support of my family (besides my dad who was actually seeing the results too and actually started treating me like his 17 year old daughter then a teenage asshole that loitered in his house) and my friends seemed only interested in the drama of things then what was happening to me.

Everything finally got sorted and we went to see the therapist where they then gave my dad a form he had to go through asking if he had seen any of these issues with me; a wall of text asking if I had classic signs of depression, anxiety, ADHD, OCD, insomnia, schizophrenia, ect. Very common signs like lack of sleep and irregular eating. Did I forget to mention my dad literally doesn't notice anything different with me if it doesn't affect him directly? He said he notice nothing wrong with me. Instead asking me what I had wrong with me. I filled out half the check boxes and he questioned me on every single box I checked off with just a "alright, if you notice it then I guess." Which was surprisingly wholesome in comparison to 90% of my life.

We give it back, she walks it to the back and asks us to wait. We waited 15 minutes before we were both called in. I thought it was going to be a quick sit down with the three of us so she could go through times and such before actually starting 1 on 1 sit down with just myself. Nope. I was instead peer pressured into telling everything I had done to myself, all my self harm, eating habits, sleeping habits and suicide attempts and sexual assault in front of my dad and this complete stranger. Questions I said no to, she pressed me on until I was almost forced to say it. My dad was 3 feet way from me the whole time, looking uninterested and chiming in how he didn't mean for me to feel in the middle of his failed marriage in the most "not my fault" tone of voice and she was looking at him in aggreance. I felt so anxious and overwhelmed the whole time. For a whole 1 hour and 30 minutes I had to spill my guts to my father and her.

Finally we hit the end of the session and she makes a time for my next solo appointment. It was 3 months away. 3 whole fucking months. I forced a smile and had the worst car ride back. I was so upset. I was so anxious and depressed and sick. For the next few weeks my dad would hear me and my friends talking and butt into the conversation telling me to "not say that because it's not good for me to say that". Thankfully he is very much like my mom in that he very quickly stops caring. It's not necessarily bad and is actually on of the better qualities.

Because of it, I have severe anxiety over talking to anyone about my problems. Period. Before I would talk with my friends about everything. Now it's a burst on a "once a month meltdown". I don't tell my family and have basically forced myself to bottle up my emotions or play off my anxiety or depression as just a bad day.

Tl;dr; spent way too long going to see a therapist that peer pressured me into spilling my guts in front of my dad after I spent the time making sure I was the only one there, then set a second solo meeting 3 months after the damage had been done. Never went to it and never got a call.

I need to see a therapist. It's not a joke or me blowing things out of proportion. I'm suffering severely and my already shitty mental health is getting worse, but I never want another experience like that again. I get anxiety just thinking about it.

Edit: removed the uselessly long vent that didn't contribute.