Oh Chaotic Dust,
You don’t remember the first therapy session. You probably blurted out a lot about your past and your ex and then left it at that. But you definitely remember the first time you voiced what was really going on in your head. It remains, all these years later, a memory as clear as day.
The room was spacious and full of sofas. You sat on a large, brown one and the Christian counsellor sat adjacent on another. There were windows opposite you, looking out over a busy street. The low ceiling and dark lighting made the room feel safe and secret. You liked the Christian counsellor. He was late fifties or early sixties, spoke softly and listened to what you had to say. Still, the first time you talked about the thoughts in your head was a gamble; maybe the biggest gamble you ever made.
Therapy is all about trust. Did you trust the Christian counsellor? Enough, enough to share a little of the hell in your mind. You didn’t share it all in the first or second sessions. Those sessions are for introductions and tests. Formal tests for you: the therapist asking about your life and what’s wrong, and informal tests for him, as you try to figure out if you can trust the person who claims they can help you.
Satisfied enough by the findings of the first few sessions, you said that there were often horrible thoughts in your mind. Then you shared some (but not all) of them. And then you wept.
Bawling your eyes out in front of someone you barely know is embarrassing, but the relief that came with that particular moment was worth it. After that session you had a little more hope. The intrusive thoughts still plagued every waking moment of your life, but you had taken another step – a big step – the step where you say what the actual problem is. You don’t remember what the Christian counsellor said the first time you properly opened up. Steps where you open up often aren’t about what the other person says. As long as it’s not rejection, you’re just relieved.
That’s what people who open up are looking for: acceptance. Acceptance doesn’t require an answer, and it certainly doesn’t need a solution or a plan, or to raise questions. It needs to be affirmation; a quiet, ‘I’m here’ or ‘I hear you’ or even no words at all; a hand on the shoulder, a gentle nod.
The Christian counsellor accepted you, and that was liberation. Of course, what he went on to say was not helpful. It wasn’t hurtful. It was loving and kind, and he really did have your best interest at heart. But while telling someone and still being accepted may have stopped you from taking your own life, you went on to find that not all therapists and therapies are equal, and that no matter how good a person’s intentions, the ideologies they subscribe to can cause terrible harm.
In short, the Christian counsellor was out of his depth, and you would learn the hard way (years later) that when you are mentally unwell and go to someone for therapy you should always, always go to a proper professional. So much for that first big step.