Session Confessions
I'm back in therapy. I had been on a hiatus for more than four months, mostly because of financial issues. Now that the monetary concerns have been resolved, at least for now, I am free to resume my long-running quest for self-improvement. Yesterday I had my first session of 2005. It felt good to be back. Recently my mental health has needed a little, well, tweaking--no major crises to navigate, just a few little wrinkles in need of some gentle but purposeful ironing.
My therapist, whom I'll just call "C," is terrific. I've worked my way through four other therapists in my lifetime, but C has helped me more than those other four combined (granted, she has known me much longer than any of them did, but still...). The best thing I can say about C is that she seems to be a genuinely nice person. But if you've had any experience with therapy, then you'll understand when I tell you that it's not enough for a therapist to be nice. And C is not merely nice. She's smart, compassionate, and nonjudgmental (qualities I value highly among people in general, not just therapists). She also does a heck of a lot more than just sit there, nod her head, and mutter, "That's interesting. Tell me more about that." C has a broad repertoire of questions that probe far beyond the realm of "So how does that make you feel?" (Now there's a question that has been used so much that it has become a cliche among therapy patients like me.) Asking the appropriate questions is important. After all, a therapist who never challenges her patient, never attempts to dig below the surface, never risks incurring her patient's wrath, is what I call a useless therapist. Sometimes the most therapeutic approach is to nudge (or, if necessary, knock) the patient off-balance a bit. But as crucial as it is for a therapist to know what to say and what to ask, it is equally vital to know how--and when--to listen.
C is a seasoned pro. She seldom makes the mistake of commenting or questioning during those moments when it would be more worthwhile for her to just listen to me. Sometimes we even sit in her office in utter silence, while I take a brief time-out to sort through my thoughts and compose my next statement. Amazingly, those silences rarely feel awkward. Instead, I find peace in the stillness, peace that comes from knowing that no matter what I say next, my words won't be met with disapproval, disgust, or (worst of all) condemnation. You see, C and I have been nurturing our "therapeutic alliance" for the better part of a decade, and she has established a safe haven for me. Her office is what I like to call a "sacred space"--a sanctuary for my soul, a protected refuge from the judgments and threats of the outside world.
I realize that there are many self-described "educated" members of society who view therapy with a certain measure of skepticism, scorn, or even contempt. That's fine with me. I don't need the approval or understanding of any outsider to keep me motivated to continue on this mysterious mind-trip that began so many years ago (September 2005 will mark the 10-year anniversary of my first session with C). And hey, I know that therapy does not help everyone who tries it, so I won't waste my time attempting to "convert" you. The bottom line for me is, I know that my therapy works. Frankly, if it weren't for the hundreds of hours I've spent "in session," I probably would be dead. At best, I would be a much more miserable version of me. So here's a heartfelt thanks, C, for helping me save myself from myself and, in the process, figure out that I really do love myself.
My therapist, whom I'll just call "C," is terrific. I've worked my way through four other therapists in my lifetime, but C has helped me more than those other four combined (granted, she has known me much longer than any of them did, but still...). The best thing I can say about C is that she seems to be a genuinely nice person. But if you've had any experience with therapy, then you'll understand when I tell you that it's not enough for a therapist to be nice. And C is not merely nice. She's smart, compassionate, and nonjudgmental (qualities I value highly among people in general, not just therapists). She also does a heck of a lot more than just sit there, nod her head, and mutter, "That's interesting. Tell me more about that." C has a broad repertoire of questions that probe far beyond the realm of "So how does that make you feel?" (Now there's a question that has been used so much that it has become a cliche among therapy patients like me.) Asking the appropriate questions is important. After all, a therapist who never challenges her patient, never attempts to dig below the surface, never risks incurring her patient's wrath, is what I call a useless therapist. Sometimes the most therapeutic approach is to nudge (or, if necessary, knock) the patient off-balance a bit. But as crucial as it is for a therapist to know what to say and what to ask, it is equally vital to know how--and when--to listen.
C is a seasoned pro. She seldom makes the mistake of commenting or questioning during those moments when it would be more worthwhile for her to just listen to me. Sometimes we even sit in her office in utter silence, while I take a brief time-out to sort through my thoughts and compose my next statement. Amazingly, those silences rarely feel awkward. Instead, I find peace in the stillness, peace that comes from knowing that no matter what I say next, my words won't be met with disapproval, disgust, or (worst of all) condemnation. You see, C and I have been nurturing our "therapeutic alliance" for the better part of a decade, and she has established a safe haven for me. Her office is what I like to call a "sacred space"--a sanctuary for my soul, a protected refuge from the judgments and threats of the outside world.
I realize that there are many self-described "educated" members of society who view therapy with a certain measure of skepticism, scorn, or even contempt. That's fine with me. I don't need the approval or understanding of any outsider to keep me motivated to continue on this mysterious mind-trip that began so many years ago (September 2005 will mark the 10-year anniversary of my first session with C). And hey, I know that therapy does not help everyone who tries it, so I won't waste my time attempting to "convert" you. The bottom line for me is, I know that my therapy works. Frankly, if it weren't for the hundreds of hours I've spent "in session," I probably would be dead. At best, I would be a much more miserable version of me. So here's a heartfelt thanks, C, for helping me save myself from myself and, in the process, figure out that I really do love myself.
1 Comments:
Great apologia for therapy! Keep on doing this good work for yourself.
Bless you in your future!
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