Photo by Yulia Matvienko on Unsplash
Why should I see a therapist?
I have never been in therapy, except for attending couples therapy some years ago, which, to be honest, didn’t help much—if at all—beyond confirming the inescapable truth that we were not compatible. However, through that process, I might have shed some of the shame and guilt of losing my marriage. It allowed me to open up and share more about myself—my mistakes, feelings, and desires.
Recently, I was reminded of what seems to be an untouched early childhood wound. This surfaced as an intense response of anxiety and fear at the thought of losing a connection with a friend. Now, I find myself contemplating therapy. But I’m not entirely convinced. So far, my greatest learning and healing have come from friends who have listened to me, witnessed my vulnerability, mirrored me by sharing their perceptions, and sometimes challenged me by calling me out or questioning me. Their love has been profoundly validating.
My core wounds tend to surface in connections and relationships, which is why I believe they can only be addressed in connection, not in isolation or through intellectual exercises. Of course, I don’t expect a loving and committed partner to be my therapist—nor do I want them to be. But the idea of being seen, accepted, loved, and witnessed for who I am while growing and evolving together is most nourishing and healing.
So, what am I to do with a therapist?
A therapist will undoubtedly witness me, but will they truly accept me—or even love me—for who I am? If not, what is the purpose of therapy? Are therapists merely substitutes for honest friends? And doesn’t writing poetry already help me create a different reality for myself? Doesn’t it allow me to process and understand what’s happening within me? Would my time and money not be better spent on changing my patterns, focusing on staying present, and recognizing when my anxiety takes over?
Am I misleading myself by thinking I can—or should—wish away my emotional responses to disconnection? These responses might be unbidden, unasked for, unwanted, and uncomfortable, but do they require therapy? Am I seeking to become stoic and unfeeling just to avoid making others uncomfortable? Do I want to hide who I am, including how I feel about the people I care for?
For me, the answer is no. I don’t want to suppress or “doctor” my feelings. At most, I want to fine-tune their expression and have the ability to choose how and when to share them.
If you’re wondering what triggered this reflection, it was an experience with a dear friend. I had shared my feelings of attraction with her because I wanted to be heard, to unburden myself, and to be transparent. I also wanted her “no,” given the uncomfortable reality of our significant age gap.
Her response—and her request for space—felt overwhelming. The prospect of losing our friendship and working relationship sent me into a state of intense anxiety and fear, compelling me to try to fix the situation quickly rather than allowing her the space she needed to process. Her projections and request for space struck directly at the heart of my core wound.
I own my feelings. But does that make them wrong?
After enjoying my own space, much processing and sharing with friends, I am much calmer and balanced again, but it saddens me to lose a friend because of my drive to be transparent and honest.
Here is how it is reflected in my writing: