Rebel without a shrink

 

My client has a very recalcitrant 17-year-old daughter who, among other rebellions, refuses to consider therapy. I offered to write a letter whose purpose would be to assuage the young lady’s fear and hatred of the process, of the mere idea of therapy. When I later learned that she refused to read my product, in fact “took the print-out and tore it up defiantly,” I received mom’s permission to reprint it here.

Dear Unnamed Sally –

This is TPS, your mother’s counselor. (That’s my professional designation, but I actually prefer the title “therapist.” When people ask me what kind – physical therapist, massage thera­pist, etc. – I say “the psycho kind.”) It was entirely my idea, not your mother’s, to write to you with a beautiful and lovely description of psychotherapy. This is my favorite subject because I have a one-track mind. (See my “purple prose” at –

https://pessimisticshrink.blogspot.com/2020/12/a-rough-diatribe-on-yousick.html)

I don’t remember if your mother told me (a) you dislike therapy or (b) you dislike male thera­pists or (c) you don’t like your mother even talking to you about therapy or (d) other. I can understand this, at least from my own perspective. When I was 17, I would rather have jumped naked off the Empire State Building into a bucket of pee than go to therapy. I guarantee you that had I sat before a therapist, I would have spaced out beyond belief. My brain would have turned into used toilet paper, my nerves to oatmeal. Nevertheless . . . I do want to put you on the spot by pointing out that in general, females have more balls to face their real feelings than males do.

And you are not a male.

There are many arcane terms and complex concepts in psychology and therapy. Try this one: “Withdrawing Object Relations Part Unit,” otherwise known as WORU. That has to do with Borderline Personality Disorder. But the fact is that therapy is a totally natural process. What does a child need (and seldom get) when she is emotionally hurt (sad, afraid, rageful, bewildered, etc.)? Someone who (a) listens deeply without shoving their own agenda down her throat; (b) who believes her; (c) who respects her feelings and thoughts whatever they are, because they are no less meaningful and important than an adult’s; and (d) who really values her personhood and cares about her. (I tell clients that if most parents were great listeners, without smearing their own crap on the child, then I wouldn’t have any clients!)

This is what (good) therapy does – just usually years after the hurt got imprinted in the person. It is great listening turned into a profession.

When someone is heard with full acceptance and no judgment, they often are even­tually able and willing to share everything, to be totally real, to feel as terrible or lost or pitiful or childish as they do and be completely accepted and respected. I am absolutely serious. Virginia Axline, one of the legendary child therapists of the early-mid part of the 20^th century, made it clear that children as young as four or five deserve to be treated with “dignity and respect.” Why should it be otherwise? (I’ll tell you why: Because adults use the defense mechanism of liking to feel superior to younger people.)

So the hardest part of therapy is not providing it, but receiving it and sticking with it. People don’t want to face their worst feelings and beliefs about themselves. (For example, many late-teenagers don’t feel ready to grow up, don’t know who they are, don’t know what they want to do after high school. I could point you to some of my thick-as-cream blog articles about that.) Pain hurts! I get a little “Zen” sometimes and tell people that therapy requires “the strength to be weak and the courage to be afraid” (and I wish I had made that saying up but it’s out there on the Internet). We have to deal with where we hurt. Arthur Janov, PhD said ‘you have to go to where you’re wounded. If you break your arm, you don’t bandage your leg.’ So it takes real quality, courage and sometimes desperation to delve into the darker places in one’s history and psyche.

I’ve just discovered that this letter is long enough. Please feel invited to ask questions or say anything (text-message: I don’t pick up the phone). I like to talk to clients, past clients, non-clients. They all get my smartphone number – (xyz.123.me-oh-my). If you do write, I wouldn’t tell anyone, including B.M.

-- TPS