I’d be lying if I didn’t own the fact that the primary reason I became a therapist is because of the transformative, profound moments that have occurred in my own therapy since I blindly fell into it in 2005. When I interact with other therapists who are hesitant to admit they are currently, or have been, in therapy, I’m like…. “What do you mean?!” I don’t know how to support others in their therapeutic journey without pulling from the nuggets of wisdom I have gained over the years.
I’ve tried on therapists, from time to time. The first therapist I worked with was quite conservative, significantly older than me, had blonde hair, and kept her feet on a footrest while we talked. It struck me as odd, because her feet barely reached the footrest, and the slippers she wore daily kind of hovered right above the tiny piece of furniture. I spent a lot of time watching her feet. I was depressed, highly resistant, and therapy only lasted for about four months. Then, rather than confronting my demons, I moved across the country. Clever, huh?
Denver met me with three different therapists over the course of about twenty years, and they were each delightful in their own way. I had moments of tremendous discovery, moments where I left therapy feeling worse than I came in feeling (and that’s saying something!), moments where I felt so seen and validated I wanted to scream and celebrate. Moments where my therapist most certainly valued me and my wellbeing more than I did…. And moments where that gradually shifted. Moments when we got it wrong, and moments when we got it right. Moments of murkiness and moments of clarity. Moments when I learned to breathe. Moments when I felt my feet. Moments when I didn’t.
Moments when I realized I wanted to play some small role in facilitating these moments in other people’s lives. Moments when I dug deep, found some confidence (fake it till you make it, as they say), and took baby steps toward a counseling career. I wouldn’t have found it without the years of showing up, having faith, and taking a leap. Years of copays, tissues, emotional support beverages, and change that sometimes moved at a snail’s pace.
I haven’t felt overly inspired to write lately. But today as I lounged in my work chair, with my laptop in front of me, searching for inspiration, I thought: “What is the single most important piece of guidance I’ve been given over the years?” People collectively are hurting, terrified, angry, rageful, and a million other things…. So what might be useful?
During my own therapeutic tenure, which continues as we speak, I worked with a truly lovely human. They are lots of things I am not- outspoken, outwardly passionate, courageous in all the ways that really matter, authentic, brilliant, kind, and so damn supportive. They take action where injustice exists, and they are unapologetic in their being. I love that about them… among so many, many other wonderful qualities. We meet each other in a really beautiful, complementary way.
Many years ago- I sat on the couch across from them in a quirky therapy office. I was deep in depression, unable to see through the haze and sludge, but carrying on an existence where I was highly professional, productive, welcoming, accommodating, accepting…. And miserable. I dedicated my time to staying so busy working, partying, socializing, pretending that I wasn’t sad… and it never got better. Week after week, I would arrive at my therapy appointment barely able to make words, the depression was so crippling. And this human would say gently to me: “Amy. What we resist, persists.”
The first time they said it, I wanted to throw something at them. But gradually, it sunk in: Resisting whatever our emotional experience may be…. Grief, anxiety, fear, despair, etc….. doesn’t make it disappear. It doesn’t even reduce it. It leaves us with a big pile of the aforementioned grief, anxiety, etc… and a new layer of resentment that the inauthenticity of pretending hasn’t served us well. Oftentimes that grief in the pit of our stomach simply needs acknowledgement. And a place to be felt and experienced. And to not be minimized or denied. It’s our experience, it’s here, and it’s real. It’s choosing to walk through the sludge instead of choosing an entirely different path, because the sludge is what’s real. It’s dark, slimy, slippery, and real.
This quote- “What we resist, persists”- is framed on my bookshelf directly in front of the chair where I hold therapy sessions today. It’s a constant reminder to me that no matter the horror of what we each may be walking through, it can only be made worsened by denying our experience. Emotions can be down and dirty, but they’re fleeting. They ebb and flow. We can survive really hard, painful things. And the moments of discomfort are so, so worth it along the path to healing and health.
And so I’ll leave you with this (because what good is a blog article without a Call to Action?): What have you been resisting? What is lurking in the background, haunting you day-to-day? What needs your attention- and, as much as your attention, what is begging for some space? And if these questions elicit some fear, or even some spiciness or indignation, in you…. Perhaps that’s where you begin, with a few deep breaths. Breathe into that which you’re resisting, and you might be pleasantly surprised in the outcome. When I breathe and allow space for the emotions in me that feel the scariest, I am consistently in awe of what comes up. I wish the same for you- that feeling of awe, accompanied by enlightenment, wondrous curiosity, and most of all….. relief.
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