Long story ahead. Until a year ago, I regularly went to see a therapist. She diagnosed me with a severe anxiety disorder, but told me that she had to play up my diagnosis for the insurance coverage, because I'm actually "not ill at all. Not really". And that I "don't need help."For context, when I was 16 and didn't know anything about going to therapy, all my former teachers practically begged me to see a therapist. It took me some time to accept that and to trust that it is something which can actually help me, because the media and people in my social environment always thaught me to not trust therapist.I had to spent two years convincing my family to please let me see one, despite the fact that everyone knew that my behavior harmful. At this point, the school psychologist had given up on me. One after the other, the teachers gave up on me, after they weren't able to fix my behavior after the first year. Some tried to give me the worst grades they could get away with - to force me to fix my attitude. Some very few tried to kindly encourage me a lot (thank you, Mr. B., you really tried to help me). Some of my peers grew to resent me and started the most ridiculous rumors about me. I developed heartburn at 16, probably as a result of my high stress level caused by my anxiety. I felt desperate, because I had tried to "fix" myself for years, as my anxiety started early, but I wasn't able to.There were other issues. At 17, I was often still crying uncontrollably, several times a week, which was very embarrassing and made me a target for bullying.I didn't feel like I could function in this society. I didn't think that I would be able to change myself in time to keep a job. I was to emotional and sensitive. Too easily hurt.People started to think, rightly so, that if I remained unable to be verbal in school and to deliver the necessary performance, then I wouldn't make it far or I would have to drop out. I almost couldn't graduate, because I refused to move in gym class and you can't pass in my nation's educational system if you fail one class, even if you are doing good or average in others.The problem was that my therapist didn't see me in these situations which caused my severe anxiety. She saw how I was a shy, socially awkward person and basically told me that I didn't really need therapy. When I told her about my situation, it seemed like she didn't believe me. I specifically told her, after many sessions which didn't seem to lead anywhere (yes, there was a little progress, which is why I didn't dare to complain. When asked, I always told everyone how much I appreciated her help. I knew that I could be glad to go to therapy), I asked her for advice on how to deal with publically bursting into tears. It was the first and last time I asked her for specific advice or that I actively tried to set the agenda of the session - because she completely ignored it. It was as if I didn't say anything.At this point, I was 19 and set to enter the labor market at some point in the future and people expected me to behave like an adult. Extremely regular public fits or crying and being non-verbal - how can someone survive a professional setting if this still happens every third day? At 19, I already started to worry that I would be bullied or unable to be employed for my whole life. I'm not trying to be overly dramatic, but my crying had already stayed with me for the last 15 years, and I knew exactly that nothing I tried by myself was able to help me. Can you imagine having an important meeting, an important person says something to no one in particular which you don't agree with and you have to suddenly flee the meeting, because you were unable to not start crying? That's not an hypothetical situation for me, because that actually happened when I was 21. My supervisor sure wasn't happy with me.Have you ever tried to google "How to not cry" or "Why am I crying?". I have, countless times. But I never found anything that helped me. Back to the therapist. I wanted her to focus on this specific problem, because I felt like time was running out. And she ignored this issue completely.I understood that there were underlying issues. But... Wasn't there anything a psychologist can do? Just some advice on how to calm down or emotionally process the crying and public shaming? Wasn't it possible to at least tell me what could cause my behavior? Maybe offer some possible explanations?After two years in therapy, I had to accept that not much had improved. And things kept piling up. My therapist kept focusing on my appearance, the plain, unfeminine clothes I wore, the long lenght of my hair ("How nice that there are still some women who don't cut them short"). She questioned me constantly about a human's biology, despite knowing that my education didn't offer me any knowledge about it. She often made me feel like a teacher roasting a student in class. After two years of therapy, she suddenly revealed that she always assumed that I hated men ...which I don't (I asked my friends and my family to check, because what else was I supposed to do after being told something like this?). She apparently thought this was the case, because I don't have a high opinion of my father. etc.Shortly before I stopped going to therapy, she invited my mother to accompany me to a session. And my mother and I prepared a plan, because I knew my therapist well at this point. I knew my therapist would ask my mother "What do you think is your daugther's biggest issue to work on?" and I knew that she didn't expect a very professional response, just something a mother might say.And I was right. My therapist did ask this my mother. And, as planned, my mother said "I think it's what we call her cry-issue. It always caused her the most distress and negatively affects how people see her".And, voilà, the very next session, the crying became the topic for her to talk about. It was the first time she told me about breathing excersises and she told me about an article she found which might offer some insight. All in all, not very helpful. But it was finally something. It took me only three years of therapy and my mother's input to get to this point.I stopped going to therapy soon after. It might just have been the wrong therapist or maybe I wasn't ready yet. Maybe I'm bad at going to therapy. I'm still struggling with public fits of crying. So, yay?