The Invisible Black Woman

Therapy is often portrayed as the ultimate safe space—a place where clarity, growth, and healing bloom under the steady guidance of a wise professional. But for many, it’s more trial and error than epiphany after epiphany. It’s sitting through a mix of silence, breakthroughs, and (sometimes) sheer frustration. And sometimes, therapy sessions go so far off track that they leave you questioning the entire process.

Take the story shared in group, for example. It wasn’t mine to tell, but the ripples of its truth hit me square in the chest.

The participant, let’s call her Dana, spoke about a therapy session that went so far left, she wondered if her therapist had skipped all the lessons on empathy. It began with her sharing the chaos of her life: long work hours, constant pressure to outperform in a toxic environment, and a home life that left no room to breathe.

Dana painted a vivid picture of her day-to-day grind: her inbox exploding with emails by 7:00 a.m., her boss micromanaging every task, and coworkers undermining her with a smile. She explained how work stress bled into every corner of her life. Meals were rushed, sleep was rare, and moments of peace were nonexistent. Dana’s breaking point came when she missed her child’s school play for the third time in a row because a ‘mandatory’ meeting ran late. “I could see the disappointment in their face over FaceTime,” she said. “And all I could think was, for what? To impress a company that wouldn’t care if I dropped dead tomorrow?”

So, Dana sought therapy, hoping for a lifeline. She wanted someone to help her process her guilt, manage her anxiety, and figure out a way to survive—not just in her job, but in her life.

Instead, her therapist offered her a list of generic, one-size-fits-all solutions: mindfulness, deep breathing, and a gratitude journal.

“I told him,” Dana said, “I’m trying to be grateful, but it’s hard to journal when you’re drowning.”

The therapist didn’t seem to get it. When Dana tried to explain the layers of stress—how the demands of work weren’t just unreasonable but borderline inhumane—he dismissed her feelings. “It sounds like you’re resistant to change,” he said. “Maybe you’re not ready to do the work.”

Resistant to change? The audacity of it made Dana laugh, though it was the kind of laugh that teetered on the edge of tears. She’d uprooted her entire life for this job. Change wasn’t the problem—she’d been doing it her whole life. What she needed was support.

“I asked him,” Dana continued, “if he’d ever worked in a toxic environment. You know what he said? ‘No, but I read about it in grad school.’”

The room erupted in laughter, the shared frustration palpable.

“I told him,” Dana said, “reading about something and living it are two different things. That’s like saying you’ve read about climbing Mount Everest but never left your couch. How does that qualify you to guide me?”

But the therapist didn’t back down. Instead, he doubled down, suggesting that Dana’s stress was self-inflicted. “You need to learn to prioritize,” he said, as if the solution were as simple as rearranging her calendar.

Dana’s breaking point came when he added, “Have you tried meal prepping? That could free up some of your time.”

“Meal prepping?” Dana repeated, incredulous. “I’m barely making it through the day, and you want me to carve out hours to chop vegetables?”

At that moment, she realized the therapist wasn’t equipped to help her. And so, she did what many of us have fantasized about doing at least once: she hit the red ‘Leave Meeting’ button and walked away.

“That was my mic drop,” she said, a triumphant grin spreading across her face.

But as the laughter in the group subsided, the conversation shifted.

One participant said, “Therapy is supposed to help you unpack your struggles, not dismiss them. But finding the right therapist is like dating—you’ve got to kiss a few frogs to find your prince.”

Another added, “It’s hard, though. When you’re at your lowest, the last thing you want to do is shop around for someone who gets it. But if the connection isn’t there, it’s not going to work.”

And that was the heart of it: therapy is deeply personal. It’s not just about credentials or techniques; it’s about connection. A therapist who dismisses your lived experiences—or worse, blames you for them—can do more harm than good.

For those of us navigating toxic workplaces, therapy isn’t a luxury; it’s a necessity. It’s the place where you can unpack the microaggressions, the impossible standards, and the quiet violence of being overlooked, undervalued, and underestimated.

It’s where you can talk about the coworker who takes credit for your ideas or the boss who expects you to be available 24/7 without acknowledging the toll it takes. But therapy only works if the therapist understands the complexities of what you’re dealing with. If they see your struggles as a failure of character rather than a symptom of a broken system, they’re not the right fit.

Dana’s story reminded me of that. It reminded me that advocating for yourself in therapy is just as important as advocating for yourself at work. If the therapist isn’t helping, it’s okay to walk away.

“You don’t owe them anything,” Dana said as the session wrapped up. “They’re there to serve you, not the other way around.”

Her words stuck with me long after the group ended. In the workplace, we often feel like we have to endure—bad bosses, toxic cultures, unrealistic expectations—because leaving feels like failing. But therapy isn’t like that. Therapy is supposed to help you heal, not hurt. And if it’s not doing that, it’s okay to move on. Truth be told, leaving a trash job isn’t failing either, but I digress…

As I thought about Dana’s story, I realized how much it paralleled my own experiences. I’ve sat in meetings where I was talked over, dismissed, or ignored. I’ve taken on extra work to prove my worth, only to have it go unnoticed. And I stayed at a job that drained me, convincing myself that things would get better if I just tried harder.

But here’s the thing: sometimes, the problem isn’t you. Sometimes, the problem is the system you’re in—or the person you’ve trusted to guide you.

Dana’s mic drop to her therapist was her way of saying, “I deserve better,” and meaning it.

We all deserve better—better workplaces, better support systems, and better therapists. And when we don’t get it, we have every right to walk away.

If therapy isn’t working for you, press the red button. Figuratively or literally. Your mental health deserves someone who truly sees you, hears you, and values you.

Until next time, I wish you nothing but sunshine, rainbows, and unicorns, which are no less fictitious than the powerful you are.