Good girl
Bless me Father, for I have doomscrolled.
I used to have a hunting dog. She was a very good girl.
Even-tempered, affectionate while still being athletic and “birdy,” Abby loved people, the outdoors, other dogs, and even cats. She was headstrong, in the kind of way that only a dog that’s both smart and determined can be. She could be hard to train for that reason; it’s not that she didn’t understand commands, it’s that she didn’t always want to follow them. She was very clear in her own mind what she did and did not want to do.
She did not like baths, but she did like being clean. Abby was generally fastidious in her habits, keeping her things just so, being visibly annoyed at any sort of mess left by people or other animals.
She did like rolling in things, though, and the stinkier the better. Being a dog who liked cleanliness, she would then be sad and consent to a bath. But she couldn’t really help herself when she saw and smelled a dead fish or a cow patty. She was just compelled to stop, drop, and roll, even though she would regret the effects later.
Once, when Abby was hunting quail with us, she came across an especially rank-smelling animal corpse by the side of a stream. Abby being Abby, she of course was going to roll in it, and we’d have to bathe her later. It wasn’t until she rolled once and yelped in pain that we saw what kind of dead animal she was rolling in.
It was a porcupine. The hunting trip was brought to an abrupt end, and Abby was taken as fast as we could travel with her to the vet.
I was thinking of Abby, my very good girl who has now been dead for nearly as long as the 17 years (!) that she lived, the other day when Facebook pitched me what I had posted to it “on this day.” I didn’t post very many photos of pets to social media back then, but there was a picture of an elderly Abby lolling about in the yard. It brought back so many lovely memories.
Then, I scrolled further, through strangers’ photos of their adorable pets, advertisements for Meta AI, uncanny bot-generated videos of heartwarming events that never happened, horrific accounts of things that did.
It was of course this last that I clicked on, once again falling to a haunted compulsion to gaze into others’ pain and fear, knowing it would make me feel worse about the world, and myself, to no end but increase the chances I’ll be pitched something similar in the future. I knew it would hurt me, and it did.
Is this what Abby felt, unable to stop herself from rolling on a rotting corpse, even when its spines pierced her skin? Why couldn’t she stop? Why can’t I?
Since joining the Church last year, I have fielded a lot of questions from my secular friends about the Catholic faith and why I would choose it. One popular topic is that of confession. Why, I am asked, must one seek absolution from a priest? Why aren’t your sins between you and God?
The sacrament of penance and reconciliation is not a popular one. Among American Catholics, almost half report never attending confession, and only 23% go at least once a year, the Pew Research Center reported in 2025. In the Philippines, one of the most Catholic countries in the world, just over half of professing Catholics report attending confession at least once a year.
And that’s among the self-described Catholics. Since Catholics comprise about 20% of American adults, that’s less than 5% of US adults who would consider seeking penance and reconciliation.
“I just don’t see why anyone would feel the need to tell a priest all your private business,” commented a friend of mine. “Who is he to judge you?”
In the United States, the percentage of adults who have sought mental health care in the previous year was 24%, the Centers for Disease Control reported in 2024. This percentage is almost identical to that of American Catholics going to confession in the past year. This number of Americans in therapy includes my friend who did not understand why anyone would go to confession, who herself sees a therapist on at least a monthly basis.
Despite the growing popularity of mental health care in the United States, the prevalence of depression is at historic highs, with 18% of Americans currently in treatment for depression.1 More than two-thirds of Americans reported receiving less emotional support than they needed in the past year.2 The mental health crisis is especially acute among young adults, a trend that applies both to the United States and other countries. In the Netherlands, about one in five teens and young adults are deemed “mentally unhealthy,” according to Statistics Netherlands. As in the United States, rates of depression and suicidal ideation continue to increase among young adults in the Netherlands. There’s data on this, as mental health care is easily accessible in the European Netherlands; a study by Dutch public health agency RIVM showed increasing numbers of doctors’ visits wherein young people reported contemplating suicide in the past year.
In contrast, there is very little access to mental health care here in the Caribbean Netherlands. The young adults here are quite a lot happier than their European counterparts, though. Among teenagers, life satisfaction has increased across the Caribbean Netherlands in the past few years, at the same time it’s declined in Europe.
Not that happiness is everything. While noting that “Life satisfaction is high on all three [Caribbean Netherlands] islands, and also significantly higher than in the European Netherlands,” Statistics Netherlands’ 2025 Caribbean Netherlands in Numbers3 report explains:
The monitor shows that in the Caribbean Netherlands there are differences between the results on the objective indicators and people’s subjective perceptions. For example, the Caribbean Netherlands has relatively low material well-being, with relatively low disposable household income and a high level of poverty compared to the European Netherlands.
Supermajorities of Saba teenagers report having multiple adult role models whom they feel they can confide in and seek advice from, Statistics Netherlands reports. Still, since professional mental health care is so much less available here, telemedicine has been proposed as a solution, so that Sabans could talk with virtual therapists instead.
Social media algorithms are designed to pitch you what you have a history of finding the most worthwhile to interact with, and I confess that the image reflected back in that mirror that’s been held up to me has not been pretty. It’s not all charming photos of very good girls like my Abby was. A lot of it is horror and degradation.
For instance, I learned via an Atlantic article4 pitched to me by the demons of doomscrolling that in the Netherlands, physically healthy children as young as 16 have been legally killed by doctors because of diagnoses of depression. In 2024, a bit over 3% of total deaths among those aged 15 - 29 in the Netherlands were physician-induced in patients with mental health diagnoses, not physical ones.
In 2027, Canada is expected to extend its physician-assisted suicide program, “Medical Assistance in Dying,” to include mental health conditions. Last month, a 25-year old woman with depression was killed by doctors over the objections of her family members in Spain, which legalized euthanasia for psychiatric conditions in 2021. Across the Western world, the idea that death is an appropriate treatment for illness—including depression—continues to spread.
Perhaps, in my brokenness, I would be better off seeing a priest.
I went to my first confession about a year ago, just before being confirmed into the Church. I was anxious. I’m the sort of person who has always striven to be seen as a good girl, who follows rules and gets good grades. Also, I knew I had sinned. I had badly hurt others, and I had hurt myself—in ways intentional and unintentional. I would have to tell someone about all that. I was afraid of being judged, and judged justly.
But what I experienced was not judgment, but liberation. The weight of my failings was lifted. I was still, of course, conscious of the things I’ve done wrong; but I was no longer burdened by them. I felt like skipping.
I cannot explain what goes on with the sacrament of penance and reconciliation. Perhaps it is similar to therapy. Or perhaps the dramatic rise in both mental illness and the demand for therapy are the result of a society-wide rejection of faith and community, of our willful ignorance that we are spiritual as well as physical creatures.
“Heal us from our wounds,” our priest says at the beginning of the confiteor, a prayer at the beginning of Mass, “especially those caused by our sins.”
Sin is a wound, even if it’s self-inflicted, even if it’s unavoidable. Like any injury, it will get better if it’s treated and worse if it’s ignored. The Western world has largely lost its understanding of this injury, committed as it is to a purely materialistic model of humanity that cannot accurately diagnose or cure.
Confession is a recognition of this fact.
When the veterinarian removed the porcupine quills from Abby’s flesh, my dog did not understand what was going on. But she was grateful. When it was over, I told her what a good girl she was.
Later, after she had healed, Abby and I would go on more outdoor adventures. She would again roll in horrible decaying things. And after that I would wash her.
Later, I would see a picture of her and be happy, before succumbing to a temptation to stare at horrible things that would make me sad. Like Abby, I cannot fully stop myself5, and I cannot wash myself clean.
But I do not need to. I can seek absolution from my sins. I just need to ask.
I cannot be perfect. I can, however, be a good girl.
See Gallup (September, 2025), “U.S. Depression Rate Remains Historically High”.
American Psychological Association (November 2025), “APA poll reveals a nation suffering from stress of societal division, loneliness.”
Statistics Netherlands (2025). “Caribbean Netherlands in Numbers 2025.”
Lane, Charles. March 16, 2026. “When Mentally Ill Teenagers Ask To Be Put To Death,” The Atlantic. Link unlocked as a gift article so it’s not paywalled, and I am sorry? Or you are welcome? It is a fascinating, well-researched, and well-written article and I recommend reading the whole thing, despite the grim subject matter.
Although I will note that going to confession has helped me reduce my rate of sinful and self-destructive behavior, if not eliminate it. Cognizance of harmful things one is inclined to do helps one avoid them. Reflection before and after confession increases this cognizance.
I'm glad I'm not the only one who noticed the parallels between the confessional booth and the therapist's couch. You did a better job articulating it than I could have, though. Your description of the liberation one feels post-confession is particularly spot-on.
I have a lot of thoughts about this. First, we had the same dog. Same name, same disposition, same habits. Weird quantum canine reality. Second, although I’m not a fan of organized religion, I accept God as a possibility. I don’t pretend to understand what God is, but my connection to God (who has no pronouns) comes through my soul, whose health is affected by my actions. My soul is different from my consciousness, and doesn’t think or feel, but can be affected by thoughts and feelings. So, my wrongs can be righted through the making of amends, and the resentments I feel toward those who wronged me can be ameliorated by my forgiving. My spiritual life feels real to me because it’s shared with those I’ve decided to trust. Which is all to say religion is proprietary and the spirit is not, but religion in its best form offers an awareness of the spirit that is more conveniently packaged. Therapy is useful but conventionally doesn’t involve the spirit and so can’t bring about sustainable spiritual healing. Thanks so much for your post and the opportunity to clarify my thoughts about this part of material existence.