How Therapists (Mis)Diagnose Part II: Finding Gold in Skid Row

I first learned therapy in Skid Row. There was no training, no standards, no oversight, no supervision. They only existed in theory. It was misery that existed in practice. My first day, an extremely stoned woman entered the building alongside me. I told myself not to judge — that I had apparently become a social worker to help those who wake and bake. To my surprise, she followed me through the waiting room and into the employee level of the mental health clinic, sitting at the desk next to mine. Here we were, addiction counselors. And my colleague was high at 9AM. <a href="https://medium.com/@myartman/how-therapists-mis-diagnose-part-ii-finding-gold-in-skid-row-7f84fc9bc88a">Read More</a>