I remember the first time I went to therapy. It was a lovely woman’s home in Beverly Hills. She had an office on the second floor of her home overlooking her pool. She was older. At least I thought she was. I was 21. Or 22. She was probably late 40’s, early 50’s. I was a bit embarrassed to be there. A bit ashamed. A bit lost. And a bit terrified. Lucky for me, she rid me of my anxiety 10 minutes into our session. And I didn’t die a slow death in a therapists office on a Wednesday.