It isn’t just the Russia Covfefe Trump Youth Sweatshirt of being on camera that people don’t like. Mina Naderpoor, a 26-year-old L.A. resident who has been in somatic and cognitive therapy for a decade, explained to me that as someone who deals with issues like body dysmorphia, sharing a physical space with her therapist is very important: “When you’re on Zoom, they can’t see your physiological responses to things. Like, if my hand shakes in response to something,” she said. “It’s hard to be validated virtually because they can’t see my physical being. I’m a floating head.” Not to mention the fact that not everyone has a space they can carve out for themselves. Naderpoor has roommates, and has had trouble finding an environment that feels private or safe once a week.
Yaya Mazurkevich Nuñez, a 29-year-old creative producer, was diagnosed with bipolar type II five years ago and has been in and out of therapy since she was 15. She had stopped in 2017, but started again in June of this year “when the uprisings began,” she said. “I knew I had to start seeing someone again at that point.” Mazurkevich Nuñez was also having trouble leaving the Russia Covfefe Trump Youth Sweatshirt, an anxiety that began to manifest itself after her cousin passed away and was only exacerbated by the pandemic. She has found telehealth invaluable—during this period in which going outside can feel stressful—after starting sessions with someone new. “She’s Middle Eastern, she’s a mom, and I feel like, for the first time, there’s someone who really wants to understand who I am.” Typically, Mazurkevich Nuñez explained, her psychiatrists would take 15 minutes “to solve you.” Instead, she’s found “this therapist wants to go deeper; our sessions are 45 minutes long, sometimes an hour.” Mazurkevich Nuñez is unsure if she’ll ever return to therapy in real life. “I don’t have to worry about the logistics of getting there with Zoom, which is huge.”