5 life lessons I’ve picked up from doing therapy.
Being a therapist rocks.
People tell you the wildest things you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes, right in front of you, they discover parts of themselves they never knew existed as they ramble unfettered.
And tears. Lots of tears. At least if you’re doing it right.
Once you’ve seen enough people (it doesn’t have to be that many), you start to see patterns. These patterns grant wisdom for those who bother to reflect on them, since while everyone’s experience is their own, life is still life and humans are still humans, and there’s more overlap than not to our journeys.
1. Silence Is Golden.
In our day of constant stimulation, it’s easier than ever to avoid negative emotions or difficult truths.
But what happens when you’re faced with silence? When you don’t have the phone on, you’re not watching TV, and the person across from you isn’t forcing themselves to talk just to fill the air?
When you’re left with just you and your body, you might finally hear it screaming.
Maybe, if you listen, your body will tell you that things aren’t alright. Maybe, finally, you’ll have to take it seriously and do more than distract yourself. And maybe as a result you’ll finally face the demons and, with some help, time, truth, and grace, you’ll slay them.
On the other hand, maybe you’ll finally be able to relax and take it all in. Everything is fine; it’s about time you enjoyed and savoured it.
Just. Chill.
I’ve had numerous occasions where someone was sharing something pretty deep or intense. The temptation is to jump right in after they’re done and offer a life lesson or some kind of support. Maybe there’s a time for that. But I’ve found that often the best response is a “wow” or some other kind of validation, followed by silence.
Sometimes they look at you funny, as if to say, “Aren’t you supposed to say something now?”
At first, it was hard not to say something when I got that look. But I’ve worked at just smiling or staring back at them and leaving space for what comes after.
Sometimes they ask, “what?” with a laugh. I’ll return to what they shared, or simply say, “Just leaving space for you.” No sense in hiding my intentions. Therapy is not manipulation. At least not dishonest manipulation.
Silence is golden, and a good therapist uses silence to bring safety, empathy, relaxation, and awareness to a person and their situation.
2. Interruptions Can Be powerful.
Blah, blah, blah, blah, then I almost killed myself, blah, blah, blah–
Hold up. One of these things does not belong.
Like in point #1, we remind ourselves that people love to avoid their crap. They skim the surface and race to the finish and avoid feeling and processing.
Perhaps they fear you’ll just invalidate them like everyone else does. Perhaps they know they did something wrong and feel shame. Maybe they’re just chatty or oblivious.
But opportunities lay in those conversational nooks and crannies, and it is the job of the therapist (and perhaps of a good friend or family member in the right circumstance) to notice those rough spots on the surface and bring pause to them. Maybe we smooth them over with validation; perhaps we start to peel back the surface and encourage some digging.
This isn’t a prodding or probing, at least not a strong one. It’s a creation of space and awareness, perhaps a gentle guiding. The therapist is the Rabbit, and the client is Alice. Down the rabbit hole we go.
While silence is a powerful tool, so too is an aptly timed interruption.
PRO TIP: Good reasons to interrupt: clarification, validation, highlighting.
3. It’s True: Childhood Really Does Shape Us.
I’m not a father yet, though I’m excited to be one day. One thing that always makes me sad is seeing parents yell at their kids for their incompetence. Admittedly, I’m worried I’ll do the same.
It’s not just sad because it can be mean. It’s sad because our lack of patience with children shows that we do not understand childhood (or at least that we do not understand how to best help a child develop).
It’s almost a stereotype of therapy that you go there to think about your childhood and how it messed you up. It’s a false stereotype, but there’s some truth to it. It’s easy to understand why: from a developmental standpoint, it’s simply inevitable that what happens to you as a child affects you for the rest of your life.
After all, the point of childhood is moving from incompetence to competence. It is to prepare you for the world. This is how we often misunderstand children. They are incompetent by definition and design. Most animals are born knowing to flee from predators and get their survival needs met. Humans are born so young and useless so that their brains can form and mold while interacting with the world, and so be the rulers of it.
That said, being so moldable has its drawbacks.
If your childhood teaches you, “people aren’t safe,” then you’ll have trust issues to work on. If it teaches you that, “trying just means I’ll fail,” then you probably won’t bother trying at much.
If you have an issue you’re having trouble understanding, it may pay to reflect on your childhood to find the answers. Reflection is key because most of what we learned so young becomes subconscious – we aren’t aware of it. Reflection can develop a conscious awareness of that framework. What you are aware of, you can work on and even change.
PRO TIP: Try asking your parents/guardians about your childhood. What were you like? Did anything significant, traumatic, or difficult happen? They might not have even considered how much some events could have impacted you.
4. People Can Endure Just About Anything.
I’ve heard stories I honestly still have trouble believing. Childhoods that appalled me, with trauma horror stories that put horror movies to shame.
Yet before me is a competent, surviving, sometimes thriving human being.
However they got there, they got there, and it’s worth celebrating.
I’ll keep this one short. Consider that whatever you’ve been through, someone else has been through something tougher. So get the hell back on that horse.
5. Honesty and Authenticity Soothe the Soul
When our internal and external worlds don’t match, we burn or we wither. Sometimes, we intentionally hide or repress our internal world, whether it’s urges, interests, or even personality.
Thanks to Sigmund Freud, a lot of people think the world of psychology or therapy is all about urges we have repressed. You’re an animal who wants to have sex, and because religion has forced you to do otherwise, you want to kill yourself.
Like the word implies, repression is re-pressing. It is the pressing down on something that is pressing to get out of you. Unfortunately, like shaken carbonated beverages, the thing inside you keeps on pressing, and you feel it.
Fortunately, the easiest way to relieve pressure is to talk about whatever the repressed thing is. I’ve watched clients depressurize right in front of me just by talking. The result is immediate and pronounced relief.
They had been holding on to something, and it wore on their soul like acid. Their bodies paid the price in stress. They didn’t need to beat up a pillow; they didn’t need to carry out some fetish. They just needed to tell somebody what was going on internally; they needed someone to listen without judging them. They wanted to know that they weren’t crazy for thinking or feeling something, or they just needed space to talk about something they felt like they couldn’t talk about.
Talking about whatever it was helped them put things in order. No longer was the internal world blurry, confusing, or shameful. It simply was. It could be talked about, understood, and integrated with their understanding of their life and the external world.
Me, Myself & I
It’s not always an inner urge or a past event. Sometimes we press against our own personality, and we pay for that too. Forcing yourself as a square peg into a round hole yields the same result.
I’ve had numerous clients realize their hidden artist. They grew up drawing or making music but somewhere along the way lost that part of themselves to the busyness of life or a discouraging word. Rediscovering their creative side brought relief, not like the popping of a champagne bottle but like the snug fitting of a puzzle piece.
Who they were underneath matched who they were being.
I’m sure being a therapist is gonna help me fill books with helpful lessons. I’m excited to share them with you one day.
