And now for a commercial break...
Not what you're thinking, I'm sure. Not one of my random music posts or rose-related product discoveries (although now that I've said that, I must mention my new favorite masque: Queen Helene's Mud Pack Masque, which is tan-colored and smells of roses and Thayer's Rose Petal Witch Hazel Toner, obviously also rosy. Using both this past week, my skin is soft and glowing and I swear I look younger), no. This post is really all in praise of therapy. Now before you roll your eyes and click away, stay with me for at least a few more lines.
I have tried therapy before. There has been enough crazy stuff in my life--violent abuse, numerous moves, mentally ill mother, multiple deaths and a lot of poverty, among other things--that I felt I was a pretty good candidate at a young age. However, I always felt like I was wasting my time, like the therapist wanted to put me in a little box, medicate me insensible, or treat me like a bug under a magnifying glass. I rarely felt like I could let my guard down enough to really communicate my "issues" let alone get far enough along to be sure what those issues were. And usually (this sounds terrible), I felt smarter than the person analyzing me. Not helpful. I've spent a lot of my life in self-reflection and analysis, it's probably why I'm not homicidal. So I needed to find someone who could see what I could not, who could give me real tools to get through the sad times, the stumbling blocks, the perfectionism, the lack of faith that I can do better than what I knew. And then I found Her (cue angelic choir noises).
Yep, The One! I found the right therapist for me, for my brain and personality, someone who is helping me see my "flaws" as talents, who has handed me REAL tools to help me when I get paralyzed or frightened or cripplingly sad.* Yes, she spends a lot of time "just" listening, but it's that kind of listening that I never had--where there's someone who really, honestly, gives a damn about how you feel and how the hell to change it. And she knows when to break in and stop me, to offer another perspective on the situation, "an idea," as she calls it. She never offers me platitudes or empty reassurance, she never belittles my experience OR lets me get away with lazy thinking. She's there like a friend, like a teacher, but better--she's a healer. The best thing, though? The best and most amazing thing is that it works. I can see it, feel it. I see that I am different, that I can do things for myself, help myself, and be compassionate with myself instead of so damn self-critical all the time. I feel hopeful and strong, even when I have a day when I just have to cry. It's like a muscle that you build up, this healing and helping yourself--after awhile, you do it even if you don't want to! To top it all off, she says that I'm the brave one, that it takes tremendous courage to do this work, to undo the damage and still be this girl who laughs and is tender, who has hope and faith, who loves people and wants to change the world and is interested in a thousand different things a day and maybe actually likes herself. It wasn't a word I used to apply to myself but I kind of like it. I like to think that standing against the dark and not giving in--and then looking to become an even brighter light--is brave. That's my badge of honor, and if it sounds foofy and touchy-feely, well, I'm kind of a foofy and touchy-feely girl. I can wear lots of badges and I'll give you a hug whether you like it or not. So, you know, it's an idea. *grin* Not everyone needs it *cough* but for those who are flailing or struggling, all I can say is I'm so very very glad I found her and that I'm doing this work. It will be the thing that saves me, changes me, and helps me become the woman I'm just now seeing I can be. Do with it what you will.
*I like to tell people that you ought to spend at least as much time picking your therapist as you do your new car...funny how rarely people do.
For those interested, her name is Paula Prober and this is her web site: http://www.rainforestmind.com/
I have tried therapy before. There has been enough crazy stuff in my life--violent abuse, numerous moves, mentally ill mother, multiple deaths and a lot of poverty, among other things--that I felt I was a pretty good candidate at a young age. However, I always felt like I was wasting my time, like the therapist wanted to put me in a little box, medicate me insensible, or treat me like a bug under a magnifying glass. I rarely felt like I could let my guard down enough to really communicate my "issues" let alone get far enough along to be sure what those issues were. And usually (this sounds terrible), I felt smarter than the person analyzing me. Not helpful. I've spent a lot of my life in self-reflection and analysis, it's probably why I'm not homicidal. So I needed to find someone who could see what I could not, who could give me real tools to get through the sad times, the stumbling blocks, the perfectionism, the lack of faith that I can do better than what I knew. And then I found Her (cue angelic choir noises).
Yep, The One! I found the right therapist for me, for my brain and personality, someone who is helping me see my "flaws" as talents, who has handed me REAL tools to help me when I get paralyzed or frightened or cripplingly sad.* Yes, she spends a lot of time "just" listening, but it's that kind of listening that I never had--where there's someone who really, honestly, gives a damn about how you feel and how the hell to change it. And she knows when to break in and stop me, to offer another perspective on the situation, "an idea," as she calls it. She never offers me platitudes or empty reassurance, she never belittles my experience OR lets me get away with lazy thinking. She's there like a friend, like a teacher, but better--she's a healer. The best thing, though? The best and most amazing thing is that it works. I can see it, feel it. I see that I am different, that I can do things for myself, help myself, and be compassionate with myself instead of so damn self-critical all the time. I feel hopeful and strong, even when I have a day when I just have to cry. It's like a muscle that you build up, this healing and helping yourself--after awhile, you do it even if you don't want to! To top it all off, she says that I'm the brave one, that it takes tremendous courage to do this work, to undo the damage and still be this girl who laughs and is tender, who has hope and faith, who loves people and wants to change the world and is interested in a thousand different things a day and maybe actually likes herself. It wasn't a word I used to apply to myself but I kind of like it. I like to think that standing against the dark and not giving in--and then looking to become an even brighter light--is brave. That's my badge of honor, and if it sounds foofy and touchy-feely, well, I'm kind of a foofy and touchy-feely girl. I can wear lots of badges and I'll give you a hug whether you like it or not. So, you know, it's an idea. *grin* Not everyone needs it *cough* but for those who are flailing or struggling, all I can say is I'm so very very glad I found her and that I'm doing this work. It will be the thing that saves me, changes me, and helps me become the woman I'm just now seeing I can be. Do with it what you will.
*I like to tell people that you ought to spend at least as much time picking your therapist as you do your new car...funny how rarely people do.
For those interested, her name is Paula Prober and this is her web site: http://www.rainforestmind.com/