There are a few different types of it. Therapy that is. Some people associate therapy with a big leather chair and a pair of spectacles assessing the subjects on a brown leather couch. They associate therapy with white washed walls, a window with the sun peering through and a white vase of bright flowers (a sign of positivity). For some, therapy is meditating. Time away from time. Time away from people and things and places and responsibility. Therapeutic.
Therapy also takes the form of hobbies; cooking, art, yoga, reading, travel.
I was told I need therapy. I should see someone and ‘talk’ to someone. I had a small war raging inside of me thinking about the positives and negatives of Therapy. Should I see someone? Why do I need to see someone? Do I have a problem? I don’t really think I have one that I can’t identify. I was too posh, too perfect, too intact (delusional) to go to therapy. Little miss fancy. But the truth is, I was terrified of what therapy might bring. I don’t need someone to talk to ‘figure me out’. Or so I thought. I know I may be stereotypical about the whole idea and it does help a lot of people. People who can’t talk to themselves or to people. Maybe commutation difficulties. Point being, I didn’t think therapy was right for me and I was too scared to give it a shot. What if they made me do what I didn’t want to? Make me forget what I didn’t need to?
Today I discovered the kind of therapy I need. I’m not a white walls and bright flower pot kind of person. And you know what, I think I could even do the white walls if I had to now. I could stare back at the spectacles and run with it. I am now okay with the idea of the walls, the spectacles, the leather couch, the intent gaze. Because my dear person, you’ve made me realize that just a little bit of attention goes a long way. It is the therapy that works the best. Love and attention.
Therapy to me, my friend, is you. A listening ear, a comforting hug, a cup of coffee, a silly comment, a cheeky grin, good music, the wind sneakily blowing through a small window crevasse, the first morning sunshine. That’s real therapy. Good conversation, in any setting, and knowing that someone cares, can heal wounds that haven’t even been born yet. That’s the kind of therapy that touches not just the mind, but the heart and soul.
So my person, I’d like to thank you for being my person. For being the comforting touch, the healing hug, the smile on my face and for picking me up everytime I fall. I’d like to thank you for being the therapy and the therapist and everything in between. I can ‘see someone’ but I’ve realized that there is nothing one can’t tell another who they are comfortable with and there are very slim chances that, that route may not work. Sometimes all you need is someone who cares. You maybe my downfall but you are my pick-me-up. There is so much power in a strong gaze, a stare right into the eyes, a mirror into the soul. I believe you now. But not a person you pay to listen to you, but a person who stares into your eyes and tells you how much their life would be incomplete with you and your sanity. There is so much power in commitment, in trust, in faith. There is so much that the two together can rebuild. I’ve been wandering around to find the meaning of a soulmate. A true soulmate who’s souls reflect each other’s. Therapy to me is having found that soulmate and allowing them to heal you. Therapy is counting stars under the night sky. Listening to the rain. A puppy dog with lots of fur. A healing of the soul that no number of countless hours in sessions can bring. They may reach your brain but can they heal your heart? They can tell you and teach you and ‘talk you out’ of your crazies but belief- only another who really wants your crazies yet needs to you keep your sanity, can teach you.
I never had a doubt on who you were but I always doubted the flaws of society, the flaws of reality that push and pull us and tear us down. People need therapy because we are bruised by words, trends and lack of faith. I too didn’t have it. I didn’t have faith. On no one, on no thing or place. I sometimes didn’t know if I could trust myself. The world is a stage after all and you’re just an act. I thought we were merely playing our parts. That is not entirely false, we are playing our part but that very stage helps create our own little story too. I now have faith in my little story.
Therapy to me is having found that story. Therapy to me is having found the people who will play their roles. To me, therapy is knowing and having discovered what I want my story to be and who I want in it. Therapy to me is having someone to build my story with me, fix the plot as we go, fill it with creativity, help me make the best story there ever can be.
So thank you my person, for making me realize what I was throwing away. For gazing into my eyes and making me believe that not all hope is lost. For touching my soul and saying that mine mirrors yours and it would be incomplete if I tore it up. For telling me, even if the second, the third, the fourth chances are gone, the fifth will be created and you’ll help fix. For planting a seed today that will be a tree tomorrow. A very healthy, strong tree. A tree that can’t be uprooted.
– T x