I finally worked up the courage to tell my mother I was seeing a therapist. I had been holding it for three months. Her response: "Is this not a white man thing? Are you not a Christian? Take it to God."
I love my mother. I also know she said this from a place of fear, not cruelty. In her world, mental health struggles are either spiritual attacks or signs of weakness. Therapy means something is very wrong and that reflects on the family.
But here's the thing — therapy is literally the reason I haven't collapsed under the pressure of the last year. It's why I can have a conversation with her without crying. It is working. And I cannot tell her that without her assuming I was broken to begin with.
I'm not looking to change her mind overnight. I just want to know how others have navigated this. Did you tell your family? Did you keep it private? Did anyone eventually come around? How do you hold space for both your healing and their fear?