Let's Talk about Therapy
Therapy can mean a lot of different things to a lot of different people. It can mean a shopping trip (retail therapy), or a trip to your cabin Up North (lake therapy), or exercise therapy to work of energy and clear your mind when your thoughts are jumbled.
I'm here to talk about therapy, therapy.
The kind where people imagine the person laying on a chaise-like couch and talking to a bearded man in a sweater vest who is taking copious private notes.
To be clear, that has not been my experience, but now you know the gist.
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Maybe you are considering finding a therapist, but don't know where to start. Maybe you feel like therapy could be a good idea, but are afraid of the unknowns - of disclosing very personal things to a stranger, or maybe afraid of what you'd uncover.
Maybe you have been going to a therapist for awhile but don't feel like you're getting a lot out of it.
Or maybe you have been in it for the long haul and feel like a well-rounded conscious human being comfortable with your life and the direction that you're moving in (Yay! You have arrived!)
My Personal Therapy Journey
My journey with therapy started when my parents were divorcing. We went as a whole family, so my dad could explain to our therapist how he was an excellent father and she could reiterate his sentiments to us in the clinical hour that he paid for.
Our family-divorce-navigator-therapist-lady was approximately 110 years old (Yes, I do know that is agist - I am recounting a memory of my 15 year old self and she was not as woke) and I don't remember a single thing she said.
I do remember hating being there, because it was another painful instance of my dad subjecting us to his narrative that our actual lived experience said was a garbage heap of lies BUT - one night when we were leaving, divorce-navigator-therapist-lady opened the door to let us the heck out, and I passed a girl I knew from high school going in behind me.
We locked eyes and I immediately looked down, then back up at her.
I spoke a universe of words to her with my eyes, and she returned it.
After that, I understood that I was going through some ishhhh right now, and she was too. And we were both working hard to shed the problems assigned to us as we walked through the door into the most vulnerable spaces of our lives. (She may feel differently, but I hardcore projected and then I executed my plan to kick ass in therapy).
I left divorce-healer-lady-therapist-on-death's-door (Again, I know. I'm sorry) and found newly-licensed-blonde-lady. We overlapped for maybe 4 sessions.
She wasn't the one to give me true direction and again I left.
I went months with no therapist and worsening panic attacks, but it is hard to know that the only way to get a new therapist is to recount your entire backstory again in the first session (Think, "hello my name is Emily and blah blah blah").
This first session is called the "intake" and it is completely and wholly draining. But, it's the only way to court a new therapist and find out if you jive with them enough to spill your guts.
My next therapist, I call her KK, had a gourd painted like a penguin on her top shelf and she said the F-word. That was enough for me.
I sat there on her pleather futon with my green notebook in my lap and took my own notes (she also took notes about me because that's like, her job, but I did my homework).
She used a wall of gentle silence when I cried, and waited, then she laid down the truth.
One day, she asked me, "Have you ever thought of establishing some boundaries?"
I was simultaneously mad, confused, and hopeful.
I was 16 - what in heck could I do about anything? The custody agreement said I had to legally see him - so that seemed pretty much like I was SOL.
She told me that I could not answer the phone every time he called - I had never thought of that.
I could drive my car over to his apartment instead of letting him pick me up - I had never thought of that.
I had never before thought that I could have my own comfort and space to live.
And that is therapy. It is laying bare your fears, desperation, and negative patterns of behavior that you don't know you can change.
It is risking your blissful ignorance to know and evaluate the ugly and dysfunctional, so that you can change it.
Going to therapy was the catalyst, over years of work sitting on futons and in armchairs, that allowed me to be a whole person.
My therapist in grad school was another powerhouse. And she had a fish tank.
I highly recommend getting a therapist with a fish tank.
There were two others I saw for a few sessions here and there in college and grad school while I was searching for my person, but again they didn't fit.
And that is exactly how I would recommend approaching it - you are interviewing your life coach here, people!!
It's okay to say, "I'm taking my problems to South Beach," and then peace the heck out!
How Fast Can I Fix My Problems?
One thing I can tell you, is that it is not a short road. And I know this is hard, because we you're hurting you want the quickest solution right now to not feel the hurting.
Finding a therapist you jive with and "fixing your problems" is a long journey.
Like, bring a Camelbak.
Sometimes it's a journey in a hot car with no AC and the windows rolled up and you want to claw your way out and just lay down on the side of the road.
And sometimes it's a mai-tai on the beach with your gal pals laughing about your deepest darkest idiot secrets.
But either way, I have found it to be the most formative process in my life. I am truly and deeply only the person that I am because I did my work - and do my work - and I had the unwavering help of steadfast professionals who had done their work and were whole people themselves.
It can certainly be scary and hard to begin, and then begin again. You're not alone in that.
Some therapists really do wear sweater vests and speak only in vague phrases.
And some have penguin gourds and fish tanks, and will cuss and cry along with you.
If you'd like to share your experience, or reach out with a question, feel free to add your comment below!
I have 12+ years of experience couch surfing in therapists' offices (I'm so cool!) and would love to help point you in a positive direction.
Yours in healing,
Miss Magnolia