As we approach the futuristic-sounding year of 2025, the pandemic seems like forever ago. A time so bizarre and unsettling, it now feels like a movie we once saw and filed away and forgot. But its legacy -- particularly in the world of therapy -- lives on.

Before we unpack all that, though, a quick download on the history of therapy, for those who didn't take psych 101 in college: Psychotherapy, the practice of working with a professional to address mental-health conditions, has its roots as deep as, at the very least, ancient Greece, according to research in the History of the Human Sciences.

But talk therapy in its most traditional sense really kicked off toward the end of the 19th century with the rise of Sigmund Freud, the Austrian neurologist who founded psychoanalysis and many provocative theories that shed light on the power of unconscious thoughts. (Remember learning about the Oedipus complex, or the idea that we seek partners who mirror our parents? Yep, Freud's the guy.)

From here, the concept of psychodynamic therapy became popular, using the clinician-client relationship to uncover why someone may feel, act, and react the way they do -- often drawing on unresolved, overlooked past conflict, often buried in the unconscious mind -- and helping them outgrow unhelpful patterns through self-reflection and self-awareness. This created a foundation for most branches of therapy offered today.

Carl Jung took the analytical approach a step further in the early 1900s, when he introduced the idea of the collective unconscious, or that humans share universal ideas, experiences, symbols, and archetypes. And in the 1960s and 1970s, Aaron Beck revolutionized treatment with Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT), an approach that focuses on identifying and redirecting a person's automatic thought patterns to ultimately lead to healthier behaviors.

To be clear: At this point, therapy still wasn't sought-after, or even largely a choice. Most occurrences of therapy were forced and happened in asylums, where the U.S. government locked up individuals suffering from mental illness. It wasn't until President John F. Kennedy signed into law legislation that turned asylums into therapeutic centers that mental conditions were then considered medical and not moral in nature. That alone, unsurprisingly, didn't fix the mental health problem as it existed then -- but it certainly marked a significant reframe of therapy's potential.

Another huge moment came in the late 1980s, when the second generation of antidepressants, called SSRIs (selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors), hit the market. The first round of the meds -- which were introduced supposedly by accident in the 1950s (while trying to find a cure for tuberculosis using leftover rocket fuel from World War II...!) -- came with serious risks and weren't well-received. SSRIs, however, had been specifically produced to manage symptoms of depression by increasing levels of serotonin, the "happy chemical," in the brain, and though they had their own side effects, they had more science behind their efficacy.

The rate of antidepressant drug treatment more than quadrupled between the early 1990s and early 2000s, according to an older study in Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics. This increase is likely associated with a rise in therapy itself, as psychiatrists -- who have an M.D. and can write scripts -- did the majority of the prescribing.

For a while, the field was moving and grooving along with theories and studies and steadily rising numbers of both patients and therapists but without much to shake it up.

Then came 2020, the year that shook us all. And in therapy's case, for the better.

"COVID brought therapists and clients together in a whole new way," says Satya Doyle Byock, a psychotherapist in Portland, Oregon, director of The Salome Institute of Jungian Studies, and author of Quarterlife: The Search for Self in Early Adulthood. Previously, many therapists operated according to a strict and traditional code of conduct that often created an intimidatingly divisive air between them and those seeking their services, she says. The ethics behind the code are still entirely in place, but the means of interaction have largely evolved.

"We were all very conscious that we were suffering under the same simultaneous global event," Byock says. "For many clinicians, that meant offering enhanced validation and compassion. And in turn, there's been a gentle loosening of the hierarchy of roles that are inherently present in therapy. While those roles will always be necessary in therapy, for me, and I think for many of us, we relearned how to soften and be deeply present with clients as humans, because that was the level of connection we all needed."

Nedra Tawwab, a licensed therapist in Charlotte, North Carolina, and author of Set Boundaries, Find Peace, adds that with more presence comes more personality. "The pandemic demonstrated that none of us have all the answers. The super-buttoned-up, glasses-wearing, all-knowing, wise-owl therapist has been replaced by approachable, real human beings." (If you've never seen Apple TV+'s Shrinking, consider this your rec.)

There's a growing body of research behind this role reset too. "Studies are finding that one of the greatest factors for success is a strong working alliance between the client and the clinician, meaning that the therapist isn't driving the bus solo," says Greg Lamont, clinical director at Juniper Mountain Counseling in Bend, Oregon. "More and more clinicians are enlisting their clients' intuitive sense of what might work for them and adjusting their approach according to that. It's less, 'I'm the expert; I know what's best for you,' and more, 'Let's figure this out together.'"

And hallelujah for that. With the U.S. dropping out of the World Happiness Report's top 20 of the world's happiest countries for the first time in 12 years -- credited to poor mental health among those under 30 -- it's safe to say we could all use a little more sincere support.

In case you forgot, 2020 also marked a historic call for race relations in the U.S. It was an emotionally-charged election year (also relatable now in 2024!), with incidents of police brutality, and increased COVID impact within marginalized communities, but lots of good -- at least in terms of mental health -- came out of it.

"Public conversations around racism in medicine became more intensified, driving the need for structurally competent, culturally appropriate, and anti-racist approaches to delivering therapy," says Sirry Alang, PhD, the associate dean for equity and justice and an associate professor in the department of health and human development at the University of Pittsburgh. That could explain the push for clinicians to improve skills around racial sensitivities, gender-affirmative care, and sexual-identity nuances.

Last year, in fact, the American Psychological Association (APA) reported that nine states have required psychologists to complete a course in equity, diversity, and inclusion (EDI) to maintain their license, with more likely on the way.

On top of that, "COVID's telehealth explosion provided access to many people who were worried about the stigma of being seen, didn't have quality providers in their area, and/or couldn't afford to take time from work to prioritize their mental health," adds Yasmine Saad, PhD, founder and director of Madison Park Psychological Services.

The pandemic's mental health crisis sped up the implication of the PsychologyInterjurisdictional Compact (PSYPACT), which allows participating psychologists to see patients across state lines without requiring licensure in each state -- possible only through a screen. As of this year, 44 states have enacted or introduced the legislation, including ones that have top-tier providers that wouldn't have been accessible otherwise. That's not to say racism and minority underrepresentation in therapy isn't an ongoing issue, notes Saad, but it's certainly getting better.

So...where does all this leave us today?

"We are on the cusp of a revolution where therapy has become more widely accepted, accessible, and attractive," says Lamont, so much so that more clinicians are entering the field. "COVID changed the landscape of how therapy can look and feel in the moment, while also helping people talk about mental health and going to therapy more freely." Add in pop culture and the growing presence of relationship experts and mental health professionals on social media, he says, and therapy has become...sexy.

"I think some people used to think going to therapy was a red flag, as if something was wrong with you," Lamont says, bringing to mind the Sex and the City episode where Carrie meets a cutie in her therapist's office (Jon Bon Jovi) who ends up ghosting her after sleeping together. "Now, finally, people understand it's an overwhelmingly positive, very healthy form of self-love."

If 2025 becomes the year of real, genuine, deeply rooted self-love guided by introspection and healing (not body image or career growth) and therapists become as non negotiable as, say, your gyno -- well, perhaps we are entering a brighter future for all.

Next Article: How To Find The Right Type of Therapy For You

Illustrations by Lauren Tamaki. Photography by Lauren Coleman. Prop Styling by Jenna Tedesco.