My Summer at Brain Camp

by Parker Molloy

Late in the spring, I stood at the entrance of an unremarkable office building, my hand trembling slightly on the door handle. The air around me was thick with the promise of summer warmth and sweetness, but I could feel only numbness and dislocation. I felt transported back in time. Suddenly, I was five years old again, clutching my lunchbox on the first day of kindergarten, a rush of fear and uncertainty threatening to overwhelm me.

Weeks earlier, I had sat across from a psychologist as she gently explained the results of my neuropsychological evaluation. My years-long struggles with severe depression and anxiety had hit a boiling point. I needed intensive help.

Once through this glass door, I would step into a partial hospitalization program (PHP). The woman staring back at me in the door’s reflection was a stranger—lost, broken, hollow-eyed, held together by little more than sheer will and desperation. As terrifying as it was, I dared to hope that maybe this could be the beginning of something transformative.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ A lifeline.

I took a deep breath and stepped into the unknown.  

Despite its severe-sounding name, a PHP doesn’t actually take place in a traditional medical setting. Instead, it consisted of group therapy sessions in a classroom-like environment. There I would learn an alphabet soup of therapy approaches that would serve as the foundation for my treatment: dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT), cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT), acceptance and commitment therapy (ACT), and cognitive processing therapy (CPT) skills.

I had regular one-on-one sessions with both an individual therapist and a psychiatrist. After the first three weeks in the PHP, I transitioned to an intensive outpatient program—that meant fewer hours spent in therapy each week, though the work remained the same.