I never wanted to go into medicine. “Too much responsibility,” I told myself. I am passionate about helping people, especially people who suffer from mental illness. Somehow that seemed less messy – less scary – than doing something like performing surgery. And so I convinced myself that it was less legitimate, too.
A decade of practice, however, has taught me that what I do is just as vital for a human being. Therapy can be magical.
There are two reasons why I have a difficult time saying, “You’re welcome,” to my clients.
Their “Thank you” is frequently met with my, “thank you.” For starters, I have a difficult time accepting compliments. (Therapists are human too.)
I always feel honored to be a part of my client's lives.
As a therapist, I get to bear witness to their most authentic selves. I get to see their growth. I don’t feel the kind of vulnerability I get from my clients in my personal relationships – not because my friends are fake or shallow, but because slowing down to have really difficult conversations doesn’t happen every day in a “normal” life.
There are many times when I become emotional in the room; fewer when I cannot hide it. When a client is making choices for themselves that they used to struggle with, my eyes well up. In session, I hear them repeatedly go through their “dance” or pattern. Changing that pattern is bravery. My eyes well up.
Recently, one of my clients shared with me after taking herself to an eating disorder assessment. I’ve been seeing her for several years, and she’s expressed feeling blamed and shamed by medical professionals in the past. She didn’t want to get more help when she began struggling with her eating disorder again. As an adult, nobody could make her go this time. This is what she said to me after working this out in therapy:
“It actually went really well!” she told me. “The people are really supportive and really understanding and I am definitely happy I went.”
She utilized her resources, made calls, keeping appointments, and showed up…even when she was very afraid.
After six months of therapy, another client made strides with her obsessive-compulsive disorder. She struggled for too many years before starting treatment.
“I could not have imagined feeling like this in October. I don’t have constant physical anxiety. It definitely feels more manageable. I can do laundry and it doesn’t take all day. I’m not stressed weaving in and out of weird places when I go on walks. I just feel so much better.”
This session was her last. She did the work: learned what she needed to do in order to continue having power over her OCD. She had been performing compulsions for the fear that something bad would happen if she didn’t.
I don’t just feel my clients’ bravery when a change happens. I feel it every time they feel safe enough to share their shame. Life can be icky. It has thrown many distressing things at my clients, and it’s gut-punching when I hear them conflate their identities with their experiences. They can’t see that who they are is different from what they have been through.
When they share these thoughts with me, I see an opportunity for them to challenge their beliefs and come to a place where they no longer see themselves in this way.
The hope is right there. When someone feels it and feels motivated, I feel it too. It’s contagious.
Therapy can be magical. It often begins when someone wants help and is ready to accept support and face the unknown. And while it’s definitely less bloody than a trip to the surgeon, it can be lifesaving.
Sincerely,
Jackie Shapin, LMFT
Location: Los Angeles, CA
Comments