When I was seven and in second grade, I was having a lot of trouble in school. I had to sit off by myself, away from the class. I cried about almost everything. The teacher and the principal said I had "emotional problems," and the school asked me to see a psychiatrist. They thought I was depressed and that seeing the psychiatrist would help me get better and act more like the other kids.
But I didn't like going to the psychiatrist because it made me feel like there was something wrong with me. Also, I always felt like my visits with her brought out the worst parts of me. And they didn't seem to be helping.
The psychiatrist told my mom that I was suffering from depression and that I needed medication. But my mom and I thought I could actually be healed, instead of taking medication with the idea that I would still be depressed. So, when I was in third grade, we decided to call a Christian Science practitioner to pray with me. I'd already been praying by myself a little, usually before I went to bed at night. And so I really liked having the practitioner help me. I also went to her office regularly and talked for a whole hour each time. I always felt good about those visits.
