I Found My Therapist In The Walmart Bathroom
Mental health help arrived in the unlikeliest of places.
javi_indy | Shutterstock, Masuti | Canva It. Was. Her.
I hadn’t planned on finding her. Not there. Certainly not when I’d left to pick up some groceries and other items at Walmart. Not even a few minutes before, when the very urgent need presented itself.
But, well, here we are. Or, there we were. There she was. I just. I knew. The welcoming smile sealed the deal. I was in.
Just, well, I needed to send this email.
About 10 minutes into a routine trip to Walmart, I felt it. I walked away from my cart, already packed with grocery items. I walked back to my cart. I walked down an aisle and back up. I stopped.
I didn’t want to do this here. I thought about just leaving. A long walk away. Or, just sitting in my car until it went away.
That feeling. Something was wrong. Very wrong. Let's be honest: Something had been very wrong for a few years by this point.
If I walked away, I’d end up coming back. The shopping had to get done. Eating wasn’t optional. So, I parked my cart next to the men’s room.
I sat down and got as comfortable as I could in a men’s public restroom. A locked door. Closed eyes. An idea.
Tiko Aramyan / Shutterstock
I found my therapist in the Walmart bathroom.
There she was. Right in front of my face. Smiling. It just felt ... like a good fit.
Her bio told me she’d been a serious student and had done other, important work before this. Before ending up on my phone in the men’s room of a suburban discount retailer.
And I sent the email. And later, still in the store, my phone rang.
Before I returned home from my shopping trip, I had an appointment to meet my therapist.
Who would become “my” therapist? Someone who would, it turns out, help me sort out some of the things that had happened in my life. This was the first time I’d seriously asked for any kind of help in dealing with the depression darkness that had subtly but viciously encompassed my life.
While my journey ultimately included some misadventures after this time in therapy, it was this call that started in a bathroom, that began to change my life.
The number one lesson I learned: ask for help when you think you need it.
The retrospective lesson: accept all the help sooner rather than later.
I found help in a Walmart bathroom and I’m glad I made that call.
Andy Spears is a Nashville-based writer, public affairs professional, and college professor. His work has been published in The Progressive, Our Future, The Knoxville News-Sentinel, Medium, The Education Report, and more.