When I studied Counseling Psychology, one of the most frequent topics of discussion was how to get over that initial hump: getting society to understand that therapy is a GOOD thing and not just for “the crazies” of the world.

Still, I come across the stigma.  When you hear that someone is in therapy, it’s as if you can see a small glimpse of their soul and – gasp! – there’s a really difficult issue the person is struggling through.  Welcome to life, I say, home to frequently unsolvable problems and deep pain that requires coping skills that may need to be learned through relationships and community.

What’s ironic about the stigma of therapy is that it’s something only REALLY disturbed people do — like people who are fascinated by fire and like to play with matches a little too much, or addicts, or folks who struggle with OCD, or bereavement, or grief/loss, severe forms of bipolar or schizophrenia, or other mental disorders that general society tries to keep in a closet away from us “normal” folk.

Here’s the kicker: there’s no normal.  There’s only a continuum of mental wellness and we all are planted somewhere along the spectrum.  And we also shift.  ‘Cause last time I checked, life is a moving, breathable thing that moves us from one place to another with different experiences, responsibilities, and realities.  We’re never the same for too long.  Hence, our abilities to cope and find our way through fluctuate with what we’re dealing with.  That’s assuming, of course, you are trying to deal.  There’s also a segment of the population, *cough* (men), who are socialized to NOT feel, not cry, and smooth out feelings even before they have prickled to the surface our conscious or heart.  We all go through times of intense joy and dark sadness.  We all move through days, weeks, and sometimes months of overwhelming feelings which are confusing and leave us restless, or unlike our normal selves.

I’m trying to normalize the path for those who think therapy is for “those” people over there.  The crazies.

This little illustration may help…

When I was learning the difference between clinical psychology and counseling psychology, I was lost.  I didn’t know which one was for me.  Clinical psych, in my own words, is for severe cases of mental illness.  I’d work with individuals whose lives were interrupted and limited by their illness.  Counseling psych took a more holistic view of issues that occur throughout one’s lifespan.  That’s a super general way to put it, and there’s a lot more than that, but that’s it in a nutshell.

I’ve been in and out of therapy since 2001 — once I left college and was proverbially on my own.  I was navigating uncertain waters of an unconventional relationship and as newly minted college student, tackling severe cases of trauma as a sexual assault advocate.  It was through exposure to my clients that I slowly began taking on more of their pain than I should have and the lines between advocate and friend were blurring.  A co-worker suggested for me to talk it out.  “Talk about what?  I’m affected by my work — does that warrant a therapist?”

No.

But the feelings I carried inside me after I met with clients – unresolved anger from closed cases from lack of evidence, chronic helplessness when I worked with abused children – caught up with me until I started looking at every stranger and wondered if s/he was a pedophile, or a sick, twisted lunatic with dark, unconfessable secrets.

Now THAT warrants a therapist.

It was soon after meeting with Bob, a hippy looking kind of guy with a doctorate in social work, that I realized it wasn’t about talking.  It wasn’t the chit chat model that I thought it was going to be.  It was structured analysis of feelings and behavior through verbal disclosures that started giving me my sense of peace again.  I began believing that it was normal and ok for me to take in pain that wasn’t mine, but I must find ways to flush out the toxic and be healthy, be free.

It didn’t come right away.  But I came a little closer each week I sat down in front of that massive fish tank and stared at Bob’s beard.  He normalized my feelings and affirmed my humanity.  Excellent therapist, to say the least.

Even after studying counseling psychology, working in a hospital, doing crisis work, running groups, and conducting and receiving therapy, I still hesitate to disclose that I’ve been in therapy.  I’m not ashamed of it – quite the contrary! – but there’s so much stigma, still, attached to the idea of old school therapy that I don’t feel comfortable sharing the latest brilliant insight I had with Counselor_________ .

My therapist friends understand it best.  We laugh all the time and talk about our former or current therapist as everyday characters in our lives, like we talk about our partners and family members.  “Well, Diane, reminded me that it might be too soon to think about moving in with Dave.  I mean, I don’t want to make the same mistakes again..”

And I can’t help but think how amazing that is — how wonderful the world would be and how healthier we ALL would be if people chose to enter into relationships with the objective of reframing their negativity into something constructive and purposeful, evaluating the progress and meaning of their lives and vocations, and strategized ways to deepen their connection to self, God (or whatever one believes in)…and family.

There’s a whole lot of cultural boundaries as well and, believe me, I know firsthand how quick someone is to say, “For WHAT?!” when you share you go to therapy.

What most people don’t know is that their lives, thoughts, and choices can be done with much more freedom and intention when their self-awareness is tightened by the spindle of reflective therapy.

In this world of same old, same old, who DOESN’T need a new way to think and re-invent themselves?