Therapy envy: when people want help, know they can get it, and still won't go.

Here is a picture of someone who looks like
she found the right therapist the first time.

I want to talk about therapists  again, and not just because I talked with three people last week who need one (in their opinion, not mine).  

When I was in my mid-twenties and bad at "life," I wondered what it would be like to see a therapist instead of pretending to be other people all the time.

You readers who need a therapist right now know what I'm talking about. 

It was at a time when pretty much everyone was recovering from eating disorders in college, binge-drinking in college, bad relationships in college, grades that disappointed their parents in college, and perfectionism that they brought with them to college like little portable jails of "not good enough."

It was not unusual in those years to hear someone offhandedly refer to what "my therapist says." It was confusing though, because it always came from people who seemed to have their act together; like they were mental health-slumming, probably-okay people with issues of conflict-envy, as opposed to others of us who wanted to be okay but weren't, and had therapy-envy.

You readers who have ever had the question rolling around in your head,  Do I want to see a therapist?, if you find yourself envying other people who are in therapy, the answer is yes, you do.

I've seen therapists at different points in my life over mostly transitional issues, from becoming an adult to becoming a mother to becoming somebody else that I didn't know yet. Some had issues that rivaled my own. But the first and last ones changed my life.

I found the first one in the phone book, left a message and a number and lost twenty pounds while I waited for a return call.

I'm not kidding when I say that taking that call when it came was one of the bravest things I've ever done.

I answered mercifully few questions over the phone ("Um, Susan...um, Cook...um, C-O-O-K")  and made an appointment. I didn't tell anyone, because as soon as I made the appointment, the other side of my brain stepped forward to remind me that only messed up people who can't handle life seek therapy.

"Actually, only strong people who know they deserve to be happier seek therapy," said my therapist about that.

He was about ten years older than I was. He was energetic, like runners are when they aren't running, with an overtly positive attitude, cheerful eyes and an easy smile. It took seconds to trust him. 

At the end of the visit, when I was already elated over this find, he said, "And by the way? You're not messed up. Not by a long shot."

I got into my car and cried.

I saw him once a month until I moved away. Not once during that time did I say to someone, "my therapist says," because, to me, the work of learning to live as just me all the time was sacred. 

Here are some things to expect if you've made the decision to try therapy and have moved to the next step of shopping for one.

First, you may meet the wrong one first.

I was lucky. But here are some examples of therapists who are the reason people say, "Nah. I tried that, not for me."

One suffered chronic health issues and injuries and showed up each week splinted, bandaged, or in the grip of some allergy crisis. He was more miserable than I was. "So," he'd sniff and say. "How was your week?"  Once, he blew his nose when I answered.

One struggled with hot flashes. "God. Hold on, I've got another one," she'd say, waving her hand back and forth in front of her face.

One constantly interrupted to paraphrase. "Okay, so what you're saying is..." and constantly missed the point.

One kept losing  track of her own comparisons of  people to countries. "Okay. So he's Germany and let's say you're...Spain! Okay? So. You're Spain and you don't speak German....so...okay..."  

Second, you may fear being changed, or forced to reveal something, or judged.

Know that therapy isn't about being changed. It's about being heard. Change may result from the experience of talking without filters, and being heard without judgment, but it will be your idea to change your life, or accept it as you gain clarity. It won't be forced on you.

Third, you may feel inarticulate, torn between issues. 

When big problems can't be fixed easily, some of us make small problems bigger so that we can at least solve something. I stopped writing the year my brother was dying. My job was making me unhappy, my husband was away all the time,  my fourteen-year-old cat had passed away in the night and in a few months, my last two kids would be leaving home. I decided to give therapy a last shot.  She was my age, smart, and to the point. She listened to my laundry list of woe and said, "You said you used to be a writer. Aren't you still one?"  Bingo.

A good therapist won't fix your problems, but they will help you pull them out and put them in order.

Fourth, people who need therapy, but don't think it will help, sometimes just need to be miserable for a little while longer. Frustration and disappointment and anxiety aren't happy states, but as powerful as these forces are apart, when they meet and make a braid, they can fire the will to change. That change can start in a therapist's office where you no longer doubt it will help, but expect it to. 

I want to make this point more than any other:

People who think therapy is for crybabies or navel-gazers or spoiled people who don't know how good they have it, need to think about the last time they sat with a good friend who listened, didn't interrupt, and didn't judge while they described a problem, trauma, dilemma, or massive life change. They need to know that the good feeling that came from the experience, maybe one that made them cry in the car,  is also known as "healing."