By this shirt here: Take me to your tacos shirt, hoodie and sweater
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 house, an anxiety that began to manifest itself after her cousin passed away and was only exacerbated by the Take me to your tacos shirt, hoodie and sweater . 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.”
The polarized split was surprising. But what I found more interesting was the willingness of these women, some of whom I’ve never met before, to open up honestly (and urgently) to talk to me, never mind their therapists, about their most private issues. I wanted to find out if the professionals on the other side of the Take me to your tacos shirt, hoodie and sweater were experiencing the same kind of divide. With an almost myopic confidence, I approached my own therapist first, jumping at the opportunity to flip the script and ask her how she’s adjusted to the shift. After she kindly and swiftly declined to comment, I reached out to Jordana Jacobs, Ph.D., a licensed psychologist based in New York.
