What I Know So Far About Therapy

I knew I wanted to become a counselor when I became convinced of its power and efficacy in my own life. I still remember how I felt when I began counseling for the first time in my early twenties. I remember the deep pain that I was in and the feeling of profound hopelessness I felt. I was a trauma survivor without then knowing I was. I had little to no education or understanding on emotion identification, expression, or regulation. All I knew was that I felt bad—really bad—and I didn’t know how to deal. It was the first time I would begin to learn about and deal with my traumas up to that point.

I went in thinking that whoever this person was that would be helping me would surely be embarrassed by me and my problems and would likely struggle with helping me since I was so disturbed. I was sure she would look at me with horror, pity, and shame and it would mirror the way I already felt about myself. Still, something in me had always been drawn to the counseling profession and I wanted to know how it worked. I came in with a problem I felt sure was the “problem”. I left in disbelief and shock that the problem I thought was the problem really wasn’t the problem at all. Also, that my situation wasn’t hopeless like I believed it was. I wasn’t hopeless. And for the first time, I heard someone tell me and affirm for me that I had been deeply wounded in my life. She helped me understand all of the ways that my body mind and spirit had been impacted. It was then that I discovered my unhealthy ways of coping and that the people I had around me were not safe for me and in fact were hurting me.

To this day I still feel such awe about that experience. The feelings that come up for me when I recall it are deep gratitude, relief, and passion to help others who suffer in this way. That first counseling experience was the first of many to come. Some years it has been more than others. Often it has been “as needed.” But without a doubt, I am better and stronger because of it. I can’t imagine who I would be without it. We can all think of that person who helped us through a horrendously difficult life situation or season. We can reflect on them and feel incredibly thankful for the role their support and tender care played in our life. In many cases they helped us recover, heal and even transform. This is how I think of counseling.

In our society it is often touted as admirable to be self-sufficient and to be able to “pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps” (who thought of this phrase anyhow?). We value not being needy. My view is that this is a tragic disservice to what it means to be human. From a young age I sensed that I needed other people—that we all needed each other. It was always the lens from which I saw the world. As I got older, I intrinsically knew to look beyond myself when seeking answers I simply didn’t know or have the wisdom or maturity to know yet. I was one who sought out other people. I called them. I asked them to meet with me. I asked the questions I needed answered (people also were drawn to me for this). This practice was something that served me well despite the difficulties life would present. I think back to that young girl with honor and love. I recognize her good instincts and courage.

As humans, we have an innate and deep need for intimate connection and attachment even if we have developed and honed our self-survival and management skills well. I believe that we long to dwell in safe places where we can bring our truest selves—where we can tell the truth about our lives without fear of judgement, shame or retaliation.

What a beautiful thing to have someone sit with us in our bareness. To see us and hear us and at times challenge our deeply held beliefs and practices that may no longer be serving us.

I have a bias that the best counselors are those that have done the inward gritty work themselves. They have taken the time to dwell in the sea of vulnerability, discomfort and fear. They have radically accepted their reality instead of denying or avoiding it. They have felt the feelings, shed the tears, faced the terrors, and received the feedback. They have pressed in rather than turned away. It is difficult work—the work of individual therapy. It explores. It discovers. It invites. It challenges. But it is also astonishingly beautiful— the healing, transformation and empowerment that waits on the other side.