I will never forget the feeling of being 12 years old in a corner of the middle school library, tearing through pages that met a need I didn’t even know I had. While I don’t remember how I ended up with the book, Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul was the first real mirror I had for my internal world. The collection of real-life stories lived up to its title, giving me the warm, overflowing sense of recognition that I would become familiar with over years of reading personal growth and self-help books.

Given how strongly that first book resonated with me, it’s kind of surprising that I didn’t see then the therapist I would grow up to be. But at that point, my foray into the less-talked-about aspects of the human experience wasn’t about me supporting other people. It was about me getting the support that I so desperately needed. It was about…