My therapist's office is a quiet, calming little place. The entrance to the building is wide and the lobby is typically full of people, but her office feels nice and removed from the world. She has a large canvas painted to look like a window facing a warm, private beach. It’s easy to stare at that window and feel like a comforting lakeside escape is right on the other side of the wall. She always has her oil diffuser and humidifier running, so the air is fresh and soothing. In the chair where I sit, in the corner of the room, there is a bookshelf to my left, and to my right is a small end table stacked with trinkets and fidget toys. Last week, I found myself playing with a silicone, purple and orange mushroom full of white foam. The sounds were wet and unsettling at first, but rolling it in my hands helped my body stay still as my mind hustled through our conversation.
Looking back on my last counseling appointment, I don’t know if I stopped to take a breath. Clearly, my mind was full and needed a release because I talked at her for the full 60 minutes. I only really paused when she had clarifying questions. But all in all, it felt really good to just have someone on the outside to talk to about all of the things. When I stood up to leave and stepped toward the door, she looked down at my seat and said, “You are forgetting a whole bunch of stuff.”
I had left behind my purse, my keys, and a card that had fallen out of my pocket. So carrying all of that in my brain was a lot, and then spilling it was hard work, and even processing it after has been challenging. My keys and other belongings were innocent victims in an overloaded brain explosion.
I know counseling is good for me, but I don’t exactly enjoy the process. I didn’t want to make the appointment with her. The whole morning, I wasn’t looking forward to sitting through the appointment. Feeling your feelings is difficult enough. The idea of admitting those feelings outloud to another person can be really scary. And that night was followed up with lots of time staring into space considering not only the things I honestly spoke out loud to her, but also some of the thought provoking commentary she added. Therapy can be exhausting mental work, but that’s usually a sign that I’m doing the right thing.
When I don’t want to talk to anyone, when I don’t want to make a therapist listen to me, is when I know that it is time to give her a call. I don’t ever make that call because I am excited to be back. In fact, when I sat down in her office last week she said and I quote, “How’s life? It must not be great because you wouldn’t be back here.” That woman gets me. I need kind affirmation, but more than anything, I need someone who will be real with me. I like her a lot.
I connected with her through a doctor’s recommendation, and we clicked pretty quickly. That has not always been my counseling story. I once had a therapist who clearly didn’t share the same faith as me ask, “Well, what if praying isn’t enough?” She also added other subtle comments and questions that implied the lack of respect and understanding she had of my worldview. Instead of trying to understand and empathize, she made me feel worse than I had when I first walked in, and my friends, I was in a BAD place at that moment.
I had a separate experience with a counselor as a 13-year-old that never sat well. I have always been a big reader and very into musicals. Naturally, before I ever saw Wicked, I had to read the books. If you know anything about those books, you know children shouldn’t read them, but the real problem was that the book I carried into this new therapist’s office had the word, "Wicked” plastered on the cover with a couple of illustrated witches. This man had the audacity to tell me, a barely teenage girl, that he always reads wholesome books that his wife recommends like “My Sister’s Keeper.” He thinks we should read good things because, “We are what we read.”
Excuse me!? What are you implying, sir? I’m reading a fantasy, so clearly I am Wicked!?
If you know anything about that story, you know it’s about deep relationships, overcoming hardship, and sacrificing for those you love. Also, as a young kid, I tried to read, “My Sister’s Keeper,” and it traumatized me. I cried through every part that I read. As a child who was already processing major grief at a young age, why would I subject myself to a story about a sister dying, when I could get lost in a fictional fantasy world of witches and magic!? My word.
That was my first and last visit with that guy.
All that to say, counseling has never been an easy road for me, but is a path that has dramatically changed my life for the better. I have gone through a number of different counselors in my lifetime, but so many of them have been so helpful for different seasons of my life. My middle school guidance counselor was a trusted friend and listening ear, when I had little trust for any adults. The Christian counselor I saw through my church guided me with great wisdom through more than one crisis. My current therapist actually walked with me through some detailed and lengthy PTSD specific therapy that was revolutionary for me. None of those sessions were easy. None of my time unpacking my grief and mess was fun. But it is all WELL worth it.
Maybe not every single session, but after every season of consistent counseling, I emerge a better, healthier, stronger version of myself. It’s hard work that I don’t really enjoy, but I know it’s good for me. It’s good for my loved ones that I'm in therapy. It's good for my coworkers that I'm in therapy. It'sgood for future versions of myself to be in therapy. I do a better job at the things I love to do when I am healthy. I love people better when I am being honest and seeking mental health healing. I am just better when I’m talking to someone about my mess that isn’t inside of it with me.
So this is my encouragement to you: make that phone call. Do the research. See who takes your insurance. Ask your friends, family, and doctor for recommendations. Whatever it takes, start seeing a professional counselor. Do it consistently for at least 6 months, and I promise you will notice changes in yourself. I believe deeply that every single person to ever exist can benefit from talking to a professional whether you need to process trauma, get help setting and achieving goals, you need relationship advice, or literally whatever other thing you might be struggling with! Please do yourself and your loved ones a favor, even though you don’t want to, make the phone call.
You are truly and deeply loved!
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