A therapist friend of mine referred a couple to me for marital therapy. Recently, they confided in him that they don’t know who I am. They thought they were complaining, but mentally, I gave myself a high-five.
Why? Because that’s how therapy works!
Not really knowing me is the key — something most people don’t catch onto. I take my ego-self out of my therapy sessions with clients. The blank slate I present is the gift I give to them as a therapist.
I call it a gift because it allows the client to be face-to-face… with themselves. It enables them to see and hear their own perfection – their own essence. Themselves devoid of outer social expectations.
The therapist is the dark, faceless audience onto which the client paints their life story. Everything is amplified. Every word matters. And when the person is in their own flow, they can’t even see whether the audience is paying attention. And it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that finally — finally! — they have the microphone firmly in hand, and they get center stage for once in their life.
Panting, breathless, they have a lot of stories to tell. There are so many years of desolate silence to make up for. So few people heard them. And so much time has passed since anyone paid attention to their inner world.
I’m just the listening receptacle. Because, again, that’s how therapy works.
We all want this. We are all starving for clean, clear mirrors to see ourselves in. Everyone! It is part of the trauma of being alive and separate from God. (Or, if you don’t believe in God, it’s part of having a big brain that can understand these things.)
If they really knew me — knew Sally — she would block their view. Because then, they would have to think about me. And that me they were thinking about would interfere with them being able to see themselves.
No one really pays to see me; they pay for a clean space. For a big backyard to frolic in while they discover their beauty and strength and goodness. For the freedom to be able to breathe clean, wholesome air that gives life. For water because they are parched from a long, lonely journey through the desert.
The part of me that interacts with them is just offering sustenance. Feeding them with words that tell them it’s okay — they are okay.
So, essentially, they are paying for love. For hope. For light and healing salve to be sprinkled onto their wounds. To have sunlight on their face and warmth to help them thaw.
There’s no room to know the therapist when there are so many important things happening in their own minds. And that’s the way it should be. Because — say it with me now — that’s how therapy works.