In part one of this series, I started us out with some basics about thoughts by focusing on the power of words. For this second part, I want to shine a light on negative self-talk. As a therapist, there are a few different themes that I come back to often due to their relevance to a wide variety of presenting issues and goals clients bring to my office. Self-talk is one of my top five most-visited topics in therapy. I’ve found that the subject usually isn’t treated with the deference it deserves. Its impact on our mental health and general wellness is significant and, in my opinion, well worth exploring.

When I use the term self-talk, I’m referencing the voice in our heads- all the thoughts in our minds that sound like one or both sides of a conversation. The unmistakable reality is that we’re constantly talking to ourselves, whether or not we realize it. Much has been written on the topic using a variety of terminology. One of my favorite terms used is “inner critic.” I appreciate this wording due to its intent to externalize our negative self-talk to help keep us from making the mistake of over-identifying with it. Regardless of the label used to describe our negative self-talk, key themes emerge in our understanding of its origins, impact, and proposed remedies.

There are many different views concerning the origins of the nature of our internal dialogue. Peggy O’Mara, an author and editor whose work centers around children and motherhood, simply states, “The way we talk to our children becomes their inner voice.” Other authors and researchers, like Geneen Roth, also claim that our self-talk mirrors the way we were spoken to and dealt with as children. Roth (2011) explains that as children we learn to internalize the messages our parents sent us, for better or for worse, as a survival strategy. For example, as children it’s best that we internalize messages such as “Don’t run out into the street,” but those that sound more like “You’re only worthy of love and acceptance when you accomplish something” don’t do us any favors as children or later as adults.

When I delve into this topic with a counseling client, I usually tell the following story of an experience that forever shifted my view of the importance and impact of negative self-talk and served as the beginning of the end of my, then, thriving inner critic. While in graduate school, I was given the amazing opportunity to intern at an addiction treatment center where one evening I was invited to observe an eating disorders group. During my first visit to that group, the group therapy agenda was set to include the reading of a letter assigned to one of the members the previous week. After discovering the extreme nature of her self-talk and it’s connection to her disordered eating, her therapist asked her to write a letter to herself from her inner critic as she experiences it inside her head on a daily basis. During this group therapy session, she was asked to pick the person in the group whose voice sounded most like her inner critic (the one male in the group who she chose appeared to be a good friend). The friend was a champ, following through on what he was asked- to read the letter to her knee-to-knee in the tone in which it was clearly written. The scene was heartbreaking. Not only in watching the emotional reaction of the woman who was being read to or hearing the awful things written in that letter but also the friend who was tearfully reading those words of which he didn’t believe a single word. Though years have passed since witnessing this scene, I still can’t tell this story without tearing up. It was an incredibly powerful object lesson about what our unchecked negative self-talk can turn into and just how toxic it can be for us and for our relationships. I think, on some level, most of us can relate to this with a look in the mirror. I encourage you to take a second and imagine yourself in this young woman’s shoes. If others could see and hear your inner critic, how would that change the way you talk to yourself?

Let’s take it a step further then. Not only does this inner critic mirror something we likely have no desire or intention of reflecting but it is also self-sustaining. Imagine that you have the most healthy, robust self-esteem of anyone you’ve ever known, then you hire an assistant who is with you continuously and who never ceases to criticize you. Even with your world-class self-esteem, your assistant’s constant monologue about your work and your worth will eventually wear you down. Without anyone else there to defend you (which is the case when this is all playing out only in our heads), you’ll likely slowly move toward believing it, regardless of whether or not it’s true. Like a slow and steady gas leak, it will bring its toxicity into the way you think, slowly poisoning your view of yourself and the world around you likely without you even realizing it’s happening. In many respects, your self-talk is no different than this hypothetical third-person. Whether the messages are true or not, if you listen to it for long enough, you’ll eventually come to believe them. The more deeply we believe something, the more likely we are to see the world through that lens of self-fulfilling prophecy. Brené Brown (2017) illustrated this beautifully in her book Braving the Wilderness:

“Stop walking through the world looking for confirmation that you don’t belong. You will always find it because you’ve made that your mission. Stop scouring people’s faces for evidence that you’re not enough. You will always find it because you’ve made that your goal. True belonging and self-worth are not goods; we don’t negotiate their value with the world.”

Don Miguel Ruiz (2008) in his book The Four Agreements posits that our acceptance of someone else’s abuse is contingent on the severity of our abuse of ourselves. He claims that we will only leave an abusive situation when the abuser treats us worse than we treat ourselves. In regards to a solution to this pattern, Ruiz (2008) goes on to say, “…we need a great deal of courage to challenge our own beliefs. Because even if we know we didn’t choose all these beliefs, it is also true that we agreed to all of them. The agreement is so strong that even if we understand the concept of it as not being true, we feel the blame, the guilt, and the shame that occurs if we go against these rules.” The process of seeing, challenging, and replacing these rules is often a core element of therapy. We can’t go back and un-send the messages we’ve received. However, as Ruiz alluded to, we can make the choice to face the blame, guilt, and shame that solidify our loyalty to these imprisoning messages. If we never make ourselves aware of these internal beliefs, we will likely continue to shoulder their burden unknowingly and to our great detriment.

So then what’s the solution? As with many truths, it’s simple but not necessarily easy. Roth (2011) in her excellent book Women, Food and God: An Unexpected Path to Almost Everything explains it this way: “Freedom is hearing The Voice ramble and posture and lecture and not believing a word of it…Listening to and engaging in the antics of The Voice keeps you outside yourself. It keeps you bound. Keeps you ashamed, anxious, and panicked. No real or long-lasting change will occur as long as you are kneeling at the altar of The Voice.” Roth sites “living as if” as the solution for silencing our inner critic- living as if we don’t believe a word of it. When helping a client move toward healthier self-talk, I take a similar approach: (1) name the lies that our inner critic is known to speak to us (we can usually boil it down to a few major themes), (2) label them as lies (some form of “Is this standard true for me but no one else?” or “Can I imagine speaking this ‘truth’ to a child?” usually does the trick), and (3) then treat them as a lie regardless of how we feel in the moment. Every time we act out of the truth rather than a lie we’ve been led to believe, that voice becomes a bit quieter until eventually, it fades into the background. Sure, it takes practice but starting down the path to a healthier internal world really can be that simple. We will, also, take this a step further in the next part of this series. Stay tuned.
Brown, B. (2017). Braving the Wilderness: The Quest for True Belonging and the Courage to Stand Alone. New York: Random House.

Roth, G. (2011). Women, Food and God: An Unexpected Path to Almost Everything. New York: Scribner.

Ruiz, D. (2008). The Four Agreements. Thorndike, Me.: Center Point Pub.

Thoughts. The ever-present voice in our head that we often only pay much attention to when there’s a problem. Even then, we often hand the bulk of the blame to our emotions and don’t give much thought to our thoughts- the litany of words constantly running through our minds. In this series of articles, I want to highlight a few key points and observations I’ve made about our thoughts from my personal life and my work as a therapist.

First, let’s talk thoughts “versus” emotions to clear a little air here. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way thoughts and emotions, to some extent, have been philosophically pitted against one other- as if they’re enemies or on different sides and we have to pick one. This simply isn’t realistic. If that were true, we’d all have to choose to be either emotionless robots or puddles. We can easily look at people on either extreme- of over-identifying with thoughts (more on that in a later article) or with emotions- and clearly see that they aren’t interacting with the world around them in a balanced, healthy way. But, even so, often when I ask someone about their emotions, I hear claims about preferring to be a “more rational person.” To me, that seems a bit like your physical therapist asking you how your legs are feeling and you tell her you prefer to concentrate on your arms. Both thoughts and emotions are on the same team. We need them both and they work best together, assuming we can separate them at all. As I wrote about in another article- “The Truth About Pain”– we can no more separate thoughts and emotions than we can fully separate emotional and physical pain. I bring this up to clarify that in this series when I’m writing about thoughts I’m doing so under the assumption and understanding that thoughts and emotions are not completely separate entities.

The next part in this series will focus on the topic of self-talk so here I want to only touch on this idea as it relates to the power of our words. It is hard to argue with the fact that words have power. Words play a part in much of what inspires us. Speeches by charismatic leaders have started revolutions (think Hitler, for example) and have converted people to religions or ideas they never considered (think brilliant authors like C.S. Lewis). They’ve convinced people to change entire perspectives. We see this on both the positive and negative ends of the spectrum. Either way, it’s difficult to deny that words have power.

I see this present itself in a few different, very significant ways in my work as a therapist. First, there have been countless articles, books, and research studies since the dawn of the field of counseling about the effects of our thoughts and internal beliefs on our mental health. In fact, there is an entire model of counseling called “Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy” (CBT) that posits that our thoughts directly impact our behavior. To put it simply, you can significantly change behaviors by changing the thoughts that drive them. Without getting into a theoretical debate regarding Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy, I believe most of us in the field of mental health counseling would agree that our thoughts (the beliefs we’re rehearsing and justifying in our heads) have a significant impact on our behaviors and our general well-being.

The second and probably most compelling way I see the power of words work in my counseling office is when they are spoken, often for the first time, by my clients. Sometimes I even feel a bit guilty about how much this continues to amaze me. As a therapist, I know that so much of the power of therapy lies in the clients’ courage to talk about and through things in a way they haven’t done before. I say I feel guilty at times because, deep down, I know this to be true- that there is something nearly magical about talking through something difficult and vulnerable in the presence of a non-judgmental witness (whether this is a therapist or a friend), especially for the first time. However, I’m still amazed each time I hear a client say, “Wow, I feel so much better/lighter/freer.” when I’ve essentially only sat as an actively-listening, empathetic witness. It’s such a beautiful part of how we are foundationally social creatures who, at our cores, are ready-built for relationships. Peter Levine (1997), the originator of Somatic Experiencing, speaks to this profound truth by stating, “Trauma is not what happens to us, but what we hold inside in the absence of an empathetic witness.” The opposite of this, then, also holds true. Hurt that happens in relationship can be healed in relationship.

Third, on a personal level, working as a counselor has changed my view regarding the impact of the spoken word. Before, honestly, I don’t know that I’d given a lot of thought to the topic. Yes, I was a sensitive kid so I was keenly aware of how others words could affect me but had never considered this on a more global level. I had given little thought to how my words affect others and, then even more so, how words have such power to heal, to harm, to stick to the insides of our heads, and to even lay the groundwork for lifelong beliefs about ourselves and the world around us. John Eldredge, author of Wild at Heart, speaks to the power of words by calling the detrimental words spoken over us, especially as children, as “wounds of the heart.”  He goes on to explain that if we hear a “message” enough times, we’ll eventually start to believe it to the extent that I believe my eyes are green (they are, by the way). We can come to believe it so wholeheartedly or so unquestionably that we accept it as fact. Once we then accept something as fact, the tint of our worldview lens tends to confirm rather than deny this “truth.” My colleague Allan spoke to this beautifully in his recent article about how these messages can play a part in our parenting. Some of the most powerful moments I’ve been a part of in my therapy office have been those in which I have had the opportunity to speak truth to obvious lies. Sometimes it’s the first time that person has heard (or better yet allowed) someone else to speak against their wounds masquerading as “facts.” From time-to-time, I think about that original moment(s) when the wound was first inflicted. I wonder whether or not the speaker had any clue the impact they were having on that person (often a child) and whether they would have said what they did if they had known. In his wonderful little book The Four Agreements, Don Miguel Ruiz (2008) writes, “The human mind is like a fertile ground where seeds are continually being planted. The seeds are opinions, ideas, and concepts. You plant a seed, a thought, and it grows. The word is like a seed, and the human mind is so fertile!” This is true whether the words spoken are harmful or affirming. I believe it is best for us to remain aware of just how fertile this soil is in ourselves and each other.

Words are powerful. As I said at the beginning, our thoughts are essentially the words we’re constantly speaking to ourselves. While I won’t argue that spoken and written words may differ in some ways than our thoughts, I think the backbone of the matter is the same. Words are powerful, even if no one but us hears them. In part two of this series, we’ll delve into the huge impact these specific types of words can have on our overall well-being.

 

Eldredge, J. (2011). Wild at Heart: Discovering the Secret of a Man’s Soul. Harpercollins Christian Pub.

Levine, P. A. (1997). Waking the Tiger. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books.

Ruiz, D. (2008). The Four Agreements. Thorndike, Me.: Center Point Pub.

Our intention creates our reality

Wayne Dyer

New Years. A time to reflect on the past year and to set forth resolutions for the future. There is something beautiful and inspiring when we think about a chance for new beginnings. This is the time of year where we are inundated by commercials for weight loss and fitness. You can’t walk into a store without being bombarded by the latest workout gear, fitness trends, and the latest diet crazes. We are all set on making improvements as we face a new year. What is it about the idea of a new beginning that is so inspiring? We have a drive to start again, to set goals, and to believe that the upcoming year can be better than the last. For many, the past year was full of uncertainty and fear. We live in an ever-changing world where so much is inherently out of our control. Yet, we can decide and choose to make changes. We do have the power to set intention into the upcoming year. The idea of New Year’s resolutions is full of hope. Despite what is out of our control, despite the pain, we see in the world and in our lives, there is still potential. There is still hope that we can start again and make a change. Perhaps that is why year after year we set out on this ritual even if we won’t follow through. It is the idea of the fresh start and trying again which appeals to us. We desire to improve our lives and ourselves. This is why we see the same themes year after year in our resolutions. We commit to exercise more, lose weight and eat healthier. We want to spend more time with family and friends, travel, or even pick up a new hobby. We commit to these new healthier habits while cutting down on the less healthy ones like drinking or smoking. 

Central to each of these is a drive for self-improvement. Despite what we went through over the past year, as we ring in the New Year we still set goals and look at making a fresh start. We believe that we can make a difference and be a better version of ourselves. We decide once again to focus on what really matters, reprioritize, and focus once more on that wonderful fresh start. It is a time for reflection and for resolution. As we ring in 2018, here are some ways that we can help ourselves as we set out with these resolutions. Many have studied the process of change and perhaps that is the best place to start, understanding that change is a process. As we all know from experience, lasting change requires long-term effort and intention. We may be able to stick with a fad diet for 30 days but to really impact our lifestyle and life choices we begin the process of implementing that change into our lives over time. Change takes time. Change takes intention. Change takes continual effort and the willingness to start over many times.

William Miller, the developer of Motivational Interviewing, stated, “Ambivalence is simultaneously wanting and not wanting something, or wanting both of two incompatible things. It has been human nature since the dawn of time.” The exploration of our ambivalence towards change is a critical part of the change process. Many times resolutions fail simply because we are not ready for change. We have not fully discovered why we want to change and just as significantly, why we do not want to change. There are reasons we hold on to those negative habits even though we know on some level that they are not good for us. Why do we eat what is not good for us? Why is it so hard to lose weight and change our lives? Why do we struggle so much to let go of the people, places, and things that are not adding to or bringing fulfillment to our lives? These are all important questions to examine when we are in the process of setting our resolutions and intentions for the New Year. Perhaps we need to explore these within ourselves or with a close friend. Perhaps it is time to seek out professional help to uncover the roots of the patterns that keep us stuck. Whichever path we decide, it is an important part of the change process. We need to consider these elements:

  1. Our readiness for change 
  2. What the barriers to change are 
  3. The reality of setbacks 

For all of us who have attempted to make a significant change, we know these to be important realities. We need to be ready to change. We need to assess what barriers there are to making that change and then we need to prepare for setbacks and accept that they are just part of the process. There will be many ups and downs over the course of the upcoming year. Who knows what curveballs life will throw at us. When we are hit with the unknown or high stress, it is easy to revert back to our old habits. That is why we have to be prepared for the missteps and the days that we get off track. However, if we go in expecting this then we will also know the way back. We can find our way back to our original goal and intent. Write about it, talk to a friend about it, and make it known so that when you do have days where it is foggy and you feel a little lost you will have a reminder and people who can support you in your journey. 

Take advantage of the New Year. Set the goal and make the resolution. Be bold about the intent you have for yourself for the next year. It is a wonderful and beautiful process to allow the idea of a new beginning to give you hope and prospects. Just remember it is a process and a journey. You will have setbacks. This is part of the change process. Ask for help if needed and be kind to yourself along the way. Reflect on the journey and lessons from 2017 and welcome 2018 with open arms and for what you will find and discover about yourself along the way. T.S. Eliot said, “What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from.” This is a perfect way to think about the end of one year and the beginning of another. We can always start again. So here’s to a beautiful start for all of us. Happy New Year!  

“You hate me”, my five-year-old says through angry tears. I’m caught off guard by his accusation. My heart knows it isn’t true; nothing matters more to me than he does. But a different message is written across my scowling face. I’m mad and any stranger in the world who walked up right now would see plainly that, in this moment, we are against each other. I’ve made an enemy of a five-year-old child.

This is not the parenthood that I wanted. I wanted to be a safe, calm, and secure father for my kids. On days like this one, however, that vision gets away from me. My son has misbehaved and all he needs is loving and confident correction. But often I’m surprised to find that, apart from actually having anything to do with my kids, there is something in their misbehavior which is deeply threatening to me.

More than just about anything else, parenting has a way of dragging your stuff to the surface. This is because to be a parent is to be out of control. When I’m alone, I can arrange my world in such a way that I don’t have to hear the hurtful messages that, for one reason or another, I’ve been running from (and carrying with me) my whole life. Those messages are different from person to person and depend on our stories, but for most of us they essentially boil down to “you don’t matter, don’t count, and don’t deserve to be loved.”

Parenting precludes the stagnating luxury of hiding from these messages. Some days more than others, something in my kids’ (or wife’s or friends’ or coworkers’) behaviors blasts those messages on the surround-sound system of my internal world and I see now that those are the days that I don’t really believe in love at all. They are the days that I see life and all of its endeavors as proving ground for my validity and worthiness. I get sucked into the struggle of trying to get it all just right so that I might finally live down the accusations against me and be worth something in my own eyes. On these days, even my own children are either for or against me, and my capacity to love a five-year-old depends on the extent to which he cooperates in this test I’ve devised for myself.

But even on the days I fall prey to this trap, I know in my gut that it’s wrong. I know that isn’t how love works. Even on those days I could answer without hesitation that my children are worthy of love just because they are. We have it on the authority of Christmas that to be a human is to be made for, and the object of, love. They can’t earn it and they can’t lose it. When I forget this it is my failure, not theirs.

It is here that I have to deal with a difficult but life-giving dilemma: I can’t defend the inherent worthiness of my children to be loved while simultaneously disqualifying myself. Truly loving my kids, or anyone else, necessitates and depends on my willingness to receive that love for myself. It is in the security and peace of this love that I have the capacity to be the father I want to be and that my children deserve. If, like me, you have dragons to slay to gain access to that love, I promise you it’s worth the fight.

I am blessed this week by Andrew Peterson who lives out this truth in a song he wrote for his children:

Overall, pain has developed a bad reputation. Even the word itself, for some of us, feels a bit sinister. In this blog, I hope to shift the perspective on this a bit and show that many people’s view on pain is missing the boat.

First, I want to clarify that I, in no way, wish to come across as calloused to pain and its effect. It is very real and it is formidable, whether more physical or emotional in nature. People in pain can feel driven to do things that normally they wouldn’t even consider just to escape it for even a moment. Gabor Maté in his book In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts points to pain as the source of all addictions. “Not why the addiction,” he says, “but why the pain.” (Maté, 2013) Throughout this excellent book on addiction, Maté illustrates how his years of work with addiction have helped him to see that, while addiction and destructive behaviors can present very differently, the deep root of it is always the same. Pain. As a therapist, I can attest to this as well. In my role as a counselor, I have developed the habit of immediately attempting to look past the behavior and look for, instead, the pain driving it.

It’s important to note here that we’re not talking strictly about emotional or physical pain. The reality is that attempting to create some significant distinction here is futile. After all, according to the human brain, there isn’t much of a difference. It’s been known for years that a brain scan will show the same activity when an individual is experiencing physical pain and emotional pain. While some of us struggle to admit just how devastating emotional pain is (a whole topic of its own), I believe most of us would probably choose physical pain if given the choice. Emotional pain hits us at a much deeper, more core level, and it’s a force to be reckoned with. It also generally includes other people, and our connection (or disconnection) to others carries serious power.

Not only are they experienced in similar ways neurologically, it can also be surprisingly difficult for us to tell the difference within our own individual experiences. Just ask someone who has ever experienced a panic attack, “Is it emotional or is it physical?” The answer is it’s both. In our culture, we tend to have this unfortunate habit of wanting to completely separate the mental/emotional and the physical. This is simply an uninformed, perhaps over “Westernized,” perspective. I understand it though. Things would be simpler, maybe even easier in some instances, if we could totally separate the psychological from the biological/physiological. We’re just not given that option. Even psychology 101 students are constantly reminded “Everything that is psychological is biological.” (Myers, 2015) The research in trauma therapy, among other branches in the field, is beginning to focus more and more on the vital connection between the mind and the body. Bring on the yoga!

So we’ve established that pain is real and it’s not all “in your head” or your body. Now I want to invite you to perhaps a newfound appreciation, even, for pain. When I introduce this topic to clients in the counseling office, I usually start with a metaphor. Let’s say we’re chatting in my kitchen and I accidentally lean against the stove and my hand lands on a hot burner. Luckily my slower rational brain goes offline and the automatic fight/flight part of my brain quickly sends a message to move my hand before I even have a chance to think about it consciously. In that moment, of course, I’m cursing the pain in my hand and would wish it away if I could. Let’s then imagine the same thing happens but this time I have some type of nerve disorder where I cannot feel pain. In this instance, it may take us a few seconds or a minute to notice that my hand is on the hot burner. By then my hand has likely been damaged beyond repair. In this moment, I’d most likely be upset for not feeling pain and would wish for it.

The moral of the story? Pain is good for us. Pain is always telling me something. Without it, I think I’d be in some serious trouble. For me personally, I have no idea what would or could stop me from taking on way too much or for trying to do it all alone if it weren’t for pain. Pain in the form of stress or sickness keeps us from trying to be a human doing instead of a human being. Pain in the form of loneliness keeps us from unhealthy isolation. Pain in the form of anxiety illuminates the fears we need to face or deal with. Pain in the form of trauma responses shows us we have memories or experiences we need to process, perhaps with a professional. Pain in our bodies works the same way. This list could go on and on but I hope you’re getting the picture.

As difficult as it may be to admit most days, pain is our friend. It’s consistent, it’s loyal, and it cannot be fooled by any level of mental gymnastics we use in an attempt to get around it. Pain also demands to be felt. Whether we’re dealing with pain by going to therapy or in other ways, we’re going to come out better on the other side of it. When we ignore it or pretend it’s not there, we’re always missing an opportunity for growth. From this perspective, I would confidently argue that pain is a blessing to be grateful for. As a therapist I get a front row seat to how pain can, and often does, serve as a catalyst. Often it is what brings people to seek professional help through therapy and, on a broader scale, how it is often the force driving us down the road toward healing.

 

We can ignore even pleasure. But pain insists upon being attended to. God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains: it is his megaphone to rouse a deaf world.
― C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain

 

Lewis, C. S. (1940). The Problem of Pain. New York, NY: HarperCollins.

Maté, G. (2013). In the Realm of Hungry Ghosts: Close Encounters with Addiction. Mississauga, Ont.: Vintage Canada.

Myers, D. G., & DeWall, C. N. (2015). Psychology (11th ed.). New York: Worth.

First let’s talk about the elephant in the room for many. For some of you reading this, you may have felt uncomfortable even clicking on the link because it’s about the off-limits subject, in your mind, of mental health. It does seem that people fall somewhere on a continuum with two polarizing ends when it comes to the idea of therapy– those who are overall comfortable with the idea of going to therapy and those who are terrified of it (more on that later). I’ve seen many people in my years as a therapist who benefit greatly from therapy regardless of where they fall on this continuum.

To give the latter end of the spectrum some credit, mental health stigma has been around for a long time and has some deep cultural roots. This stigma is real and I, in no way, wish to shame people for their fear of reaching out for help and the inherent feelings of vulnerability the topic of mental health entails. Fears like this, based in cultural lies we’ve been told, are certainly tough to push through. For those who have made the brave step to call or schedule their first counseling appointment in spite of these fears often do so because the discomfort they’re experiencing outweighs the discomfort of facing these fears.

First, I want to make evident that the stigma that surrounds mental health is certainly on the decline thanks to many different factors including the outspokenness of celebrities like Kristen Bell (you can read her excellent article here) (Bell, 2016) and Bradley Cooper, as well as organizations like the Heads Together campaign, This Is My Brave Foundation, among many others making it their mission to help create a dialogue to counteract the lingering stigma in our cultures. Consider that even back over a decade ago surveys showed that “48 percent of those polled reported a visit to a mental health professional by someone in their household this year, and more than nine out of 10 -91 percent- said they would likely consult or recommend a mental health professional if they or a family member were experiencing a problem.” (Chamberlin, 2004). Since 2004 when this survey was conducted the prevalence of individuals, couples, and families seeking out mental health treatment, as most of us can attest to, has risen significantly.

This is reflected in the number of people who know someone personally who has sought out a counselor as well as the rise in themes in the entertainment industry centering around therapy and the commonality of emotional struggles. We’re in an age of transparency like we’ve never been before. It only takes a few minutes watching the news or scrolling your social media to see that in some ways this transparency can be to our detriment, but this cultural shift has also done amazing things to help normalize our need for outside help when we’re struggling. You don’t have to look far in the realm of movies and TV these days to find references to emotional and mental health struggles and the encouragement to seek help. As a therapist, I’m personally excited to see where the benefit of this cultural shift takes us in the future and what impact it will have on the misguided stigma surrounding seeking out professional help.

Now onto my second main point regarding people’s fear of counseling and reaching out: vulnerability. Vulnerability is defined as “capable of or susceptible to being wounded or hurt” (dictonary.com). From this perspective, it makes sense that vulnerability is a scary thing for people and thus, for some, something to be avoided. But there’s another side to the story. Regarding any aspect of shame and vulnerability, I recommend turning to the amazing work of Dr. Brene Brown. Dr. Brown has this to say about vulnerability:

Vulnerability is not weakness, and the uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure we face every day are not optional. Our only choice is a question of engagement. Our willingness to own and engage with our vulnerability determines the depth of our courage and the clarity of our purpose; the level to which we protect ourselves from being vulnerable is a measure of our fear and disconnection.

Brené Brown

You might want to read that one a few times. Better yet, go buy the whole book. Vulnerability is a double-edged sword in our minds. But generally I think it’s safe to say that often we’re blessed by our capacity to be vulnerable. This is true in our everyday lives and this is also true when it comes to the decision to seek out counseling. We can all easily bring up in our memory times where vulnerability has created wounds that we feel for a long time afterward. I’m also certain, though, that every one of us can bring up an ever-growing list of instances in which vulnerability has been a powerful and beautiful force to be reckoned with. Good relationships and good therapy share this quality.

For what it’s worth though, I am aware of my bias regarding therapy and vulnerability. If you ask me, well, therapy is wonderful. This has proven true for me as I’ve journeyed along the road of counseling with clients as their therapist and as I’ve experienced my own healing in therapy. People make comments to me all the time about how it is that I’m able to do the work that I do with people and the answer is that therapy isn’t just about the hurt, it’s about the healing. I get to watch people improve and heal and that’s simply a beautiful thing to witness and to be a part of. So perhaps consider that the stigma against therapy doesn’t have much of a leg to stand on after all and should finally be laid to rest.

 

Bell, Kristen (2016). Kristen Bell Shares Struggles With Depression and Anxiety – Motto. (2016, May 31). Retrieved April 11, 2017, from http://motto.time.com/4352130/kristen-bell-frozen-depression-anxiety

Brown, B. (2015). Daring greatly: how the courage to be vulnerable transforms the way we live, love, parent, and lead. London: Penguin Life.
Chamberlin, J. (2005, July). Survey says: More Americans are seeking mental health treatment. Retrieved April 10, 2017, from http://www.apa.org/monitor/julaug04/survey.aspx
vulnerability. (n.d.). Dictionary.com Unabridged. Retrieved April 13, 2017 from Dictionary.com website http://www.dictionary.com/browse/vulnerability