Why I Believe in the Transformative Magic of Therapy
I accidentally found myself in therapy in elementary school. I recall telling my teachers that it was a fellow student, my family member, that needed therapy for all their problems — not mine, of course. My problems "just weren't as bad."
I found myself getting pulled out of class weekly to meet with this nice young lady, Karina, I believe was her name. Every week, she'd pick me up from class and lead me to a private room where she'd have a new (and fun) art activity — just for me. I got to paint, draw, make shrinky dinks, write fun poems that I thought rhymed (they didn't). I was always excited to see Karina and anticipate what activity she'd have waiting for me. It was a time dedicated just for me, and as a child, I fully embraced it. How often did you have the full attention of an adult who only cared about you and your experience?
The safe space that Karina provided was one of my first experiences where an adult intentionally took the time — a whole 30 to 50 minutes! — to value my experience of the world. I didn't realize this was therapy at the time, but boy did my nervous system remember what it was like to be unconditionally valued, celebrated, and beloved for simply being myself.
Our bodies and beings don't forget what it's like to feel authentically ourselves without shame. This was (probably) the catalyst for why I was open to therapy later in my teenage years, and eventually why I would go on to becoming a therapist and appreciating working with young people, or people who were new to therapy. My experience with Karina — and the many other compassionate adults that I encountered — continues to inspire and influence my values and the way in which I work.
I don't just value talking about the hard things. That's important — but I know it's not all there is to therapy. I appreciate this quote from Jessica Semaan, author of child of the moon:
Childhood trauma #4:
Danger is safe.
Joy is dangerous.
She reminds us that so often, children who experience trauma go on to become adults who don't know what it's like to stop being vigilant, to let go and simply be without worry or fear of ridicule and embarrassment. I think of older immigrant aunties and seemingly apathetic dads who choose to watch others play and be silly in the living room and say "I don't want to participate — but you go enjoy," when nudged to partake. They would have so much fun participating, if only their nervous systems had the capacity to give themselves a chance.
In my work with clients, I keep in mind the importance of unpacking trauma, and the importance of gently creating space for the younger parts of ourselves — our inner child, or inner children, some might say — the chance to come alive and take up space in ways that couldn't have been possible before. These younger parts are loud, silly, angry, sobbing, squealing at the top of their lungs with delight — and unconditionally deserving of another's presence and witnessing of their full and authentic selves.
Years later, in my own therapy (as a client), I read a written piece I had reflecting on my growth outloud to my new therapist, M, a “baby therapist” who was still in graduate school. After I shared, we had a brief moment of pause before I decided to share the following:
“Y’know part of me doesnt know how this is landing for you. I wonder if you talk about me to your boss. I wonder this just feels like an easy session. I wonder if I’ll end up being a client you present about when you're in your last semester of grad school. I know I’ve mentioned wondering about your experience of me a couple weeks ago as well, and I know I might not get the answers to any of this, but I just want to put this out there so that you know.”
My therapist then asked for permission to share their experience of me. They went on to say:
“When you read your writing to me, it felt like, you were a little girl, and you drew me this picture, and now I'm going to go hang this picture on my fridge.”
I was taken aback as I felt myself melting into my six year old self, who drew and gifted my teachers with my art. As a child who’d rarely experienced the full recognition and celebration from the my adult family figures in my life, this healed a wound I didn’t know still needed patching. Having happened at the end of my session, my therapist and I took a moment to be present with the shared tears welling up between us, then wiped our respective tears said our goodbyes. I went to the office bathroom and allowed myself to sob to the point where I couldn’t see.
How proud I was of my growth — how magical it felt to be seen and held in such a way in return.
I do my best to create transformative experience of growth as such for my clients. The work is slow, and the work is tiring. There are days where we have breakthroughs. There are days where I miss the mark. Above all else, I strive to always circle back to make sure I hear what my clients' experiences of those moments were, to make sure that they know that I see them — or see when I missed seeing them — so that we can work together to repair and reinvigorate our nervous systems to have the capacity to feel beautifully, complexly, fully alive and connected in our human experience. By doing so, clients — and even my younger fifth grade self — go out into the world embodying the feeling of authenticity and enoughness, empowered knowing they have the capacity to create this experience for themselves in all aspects of their life. This is the transformative experience of therapy I hope to share.
