When I transitioned to conducting one-on-one talk therapy, I text my therapist:
“My 8pm was a black female college student and I think providing therapy to my younger ‘mirror image’ will be my final stage of healing.
Count your days motherfucker.”
To which he responded with:
“You can’t rush time. No matter how hard you punch a clock in the face, time will never change its pace.” - my therapist or whatever
It causes me great pain to say that since mid-December, he has proved himself to be beyond correct.
Is this another post about healing? And how terribly hard I have it? I mean, kinda, yes. But I suppose it’s a little bit (or a lotta bit) about all of us.
Perhaps it’s because I’ve been writing so much about healing and the word has started to lose its meaning but what does it mean to be “healing”? At the end of this, do I become “healed”? Is there a trophy?
I’m out, screaming music at the bar with my bestie. We do that cute high five where your hands just stay touching the other persons’. And I say, “at my wedding, this is the song we’ll dance to together.” That felt like a moment. Like oh, I’m getting closer to healed. But am I supposed to even imagine a wedding? Shouldn’t I only be picturing a future of things that are within my control? Not planning for my heart and another heart to find each other in this lifetime?
In therapy, there is something called “The Miracle Question”. It’s honestly one of my favorite questions to ask because it helps us (me and the client) figure out what the fuck we are even working towards. Plus it helps me gauge where the person’s thought process even is.
The question is essentially, what if everything was fixed? What is everything was perfect? What would life look like then? What would be different? What would stay the same? If a magic wand came along, where would it sprinkle fairy dust in your life?
Some clients provide short term solutions while other provide answers focused on the long term while others really show me how much they believe in magic and I have to remind them, babe we are not working with Princess Diaries kind of magic - no becoming a princess but still it helps. Becoming princess of Genovia does seem like a carefree lifestyle that is completely different than your every moment of stress and lack of joy.
Why do we work towards healing? Why do we show up to therapy?
Because something has to change. Something has stopped working and we can’t keep going on that path anymore. We’ve changed everything we know how to change. And now, we need to tell an objective stranger intimate details so they can in turn, ask us the hard questions. Or look us in the eyes and address the systematic generational family abuse that we have refused to address. Well, perhaps not quite refused but couldn’t. We couldn’t access it. Because when we are entrenched in something, how are we supposed to look around and see the problem even if our body/soul/being feels it deep within us.
I say “we” on purpose. I try to create as little “authority” as possible within the therapeutic space. Explaining in my intro spiel about my duties to report and also that I can’t wait to collaborate together. I tell a client that “sometimes when we are struggling and going through difficult times, we can have thoughts and feelings of wanting to harm ourselves or others. Those are tough to hold inside and it’s okay to talk about them.” I elaborate that together we’ll make space for what we’re feeling but also duty to report exists, why it exists, and how it’s meant to make sure we get back to each other so we can keep navigating these feelings together. That I am only with them for one hour a week and if I’m concerned for their safety, my biggest concern is always keeping them safe. Making sure that we make it to the next week of processing through these feelings.
In therapy groups and even individual therapy, there is an emphasis on “I” statements. When I worked as a substance abuse counselor, primarily conducting group therapy and psychoeducation classes, my program heavily focused on “I” statements. If a client said, “You might see - “ and were corrected to say “I might see…”
It was so irritating to the clients. And uncomfortable for me, at first. But it worked. It is so easy to create a boundary of someone else lying to other people for their own benefit. But when we say, “I would lie to my family” as opposed to “some people lie to their family,” we are forced to look in the metaphorical mirror of it all. Forced to feel the weight of our actions. And damn it fucking sucks. It sucks to actually address our behaviors.
So I say “we” so I can feel it too. Process it too. As appropriate.
“When we are first diagnosed, it can be very difficult to accept the ways our lives have changed and then once the crisis passes, we enter a more stable phase of life. We look around and feel lost at times.”
“When we are doing everything, we can and still continue to feel unappreciated, that can be very hurtful.”
I’m there in the gunk with them. Because we all feel that way. We do.
Again when I primarily worked in substance abuse but in a different role. I would meet sooooo many individuals who felt ashamed at having to enter substance abuse treatment - “I’m so embarrassed of what my children are thinking of me.” And I would tell them, “you’re showing that that it’s okay to get help. We all go through trials in our life, whether it’s substance abuse or not, and you’re showing them that asking for help is okay.”
Listen, I’m not preaching that I’m a saint. Sometimes I do not want to walk down these scary, treacherous roads with them. But that’s what I’m here to do. I’m here to help them figure out this crazy, unmarked, bumpy, muddy road to healing. A road with no finish line.
As Coach Bennett always says, every finish line is a new starting line.
Which I love love love for running. So motivating.
But for therapy, it’s like ugh. Very ugh. Because how? Why? Who? Me? Where? When? No thank you.
This truly isn’t adding up though.
There has to be a finish line…doesn’t there?