Why I Became a Therapist - Noah

by Noah Laracy

In my mid-thirties, I hit a low point in my life. I had an excellent education and supportive friends and family, but the previous five years were a blur spent lost inside my own head. While I suffered from anxiety and depression, the overriding feeling that I remember from that time was that of being “stuck”. I spent countless hours trying to think my way out of my problems, the gears inside my head churning away, but never producing anything close to a solution. I started to think that I was doomed, that a curse had been laid upon me, and that this was my fate. During this time, never once did the thought enter my head that I needed or was capable to receiving help. I got very good at pushing people away and would snap at anger like a wounded animal when anyone got too close.

My desire to be free from my head eventually led me to a treatment center.

Smart and caring people there looked after me without judgment. They were tough but loving, advocating a program for living that required radical personal responsibility on my part, and a ton of support on theirs. It started with small things. I began by helping the cook with breakfast in the morning. It doesn’t sound like much, but the completion of a round of French toast felt like a triumph. I began to piece my life back together. In time, I began to believe in myself again.

I decided to put my newfound sense of purpose to the test. I had read an article about an agency that engaged the homeless people in the community. I told them I wanted to volunteer, and they agreed to put me to work as an outreach worker on Skid Row. While I couldn’t stand waiting in line at the DMV for myself, I somehow found it enjoyable when doing it for someone else. It provided a lot of time to really get to know my clients. I found that I loved them. They had been screwed over and disappointed so many times, they no longer believed that things could change. I tried to instill a belief that things could happen for them.

When I focused on others, something amazing happened - I was no longer stuck.  My therapist at the time suggested that I should investigate becoming one. He saw something in me that I didn’t recognize at the time, and I decided to take the leap. I remember my first full day of seeing clients – it was a Friday. As I drove home that day, I knew I had found my place in the world. While I now work in Beverly Hills rather than Skid Row, the mission is the same: to help people believe in themselves and in the world again.