After another heated conversation on my mental health, I realised that my partner was under the impression that I was scared of seeking therapy and worst, scared of therapy. However, it was never therapy itself which was the problem. As a matter of fact, I’ve been in contact with therapy for as long as I can remember and I’ve always been an active advocate for it as I am aware of the benefits it can provide.
As I said, my problem has never been therapy and is much trickier than this. I don’t like most of the therapists I am referred to. By that, I am certainly not implying any sort of superiority from my side. Au contraire, I would be the first to openly admit that I am not always the most delightful person to deal with. When I say I don’t like them, I am not talking about a dislike that would grow during the therapy because they would have successfully shaken me out of my comfort zone, but an instant form of dislike. Sometimes for very obvious reasons (mean therapists are not a myth!) but this is not always the case.
I simply do not like them as persons and as a consequence, I find myself more tightly-closed than a threatened oyster. This is quite problematic due to therapy’s nature which greatly relies on openness as much as a comfortable cat relies on its owner’s discomfort. It became such an occurrence that the first question I ask myself before attending is no longer ‘what are they going to discover this time’ but ‘what If I don’t like the therapist?’.
As any person who picked self-loathing as a coping mechanism, my first reaction would be to blame myself for absolutely everything, from the way I said hello to the way I judged them when they told me that this particular session would be about my whole life in details. Maybe this is just another manifestation of self-sabotaging — another one of my favourite coping technique — or maybe I am just reflecting on the therapist what I think of me?
While therapy would certainly be of great help to figure this out, such a radical realisation makes it hard for me to go on and therefore, ruins any chance of sincere connection. Of course, I am not trying to make the therapist my next best friend but some sort of mutual tolerance is always quite helpful. And believe me, I tried on multiple occasions, but it always results in me sitting on the couch with the same control, coldness and shallowness than an undiagnosed psychopath.
While I do not know exactly everything about my condition, what I know so far is that I have enough on my plate to be adding another problem on top of it all!
This might be what therapy is all about though. By use of irony, it could help revealing the real source of your issues? Before throwing myself in another personal conspiracy theory, let me tell you that this has not always been the case if ever you’ve been wondering. I even had a couple of therapists that I actually liked but I haven’t been able to pursue with for practical reasons, famously called ‘life’ which, as we know, is not always the most accommodating. Anyway, this sidenote is just there to show that I am not completely antisocial, thank you for your concern and validation!
In an effort to redeem myself, I’ve been sharing my misfortunes with a select few of my friends, who I consider to be ‘therapy enthusiasts’, and absolutely all of them endorsed me in my doubts and decision. While this showed me that I was not the only one and *insert positive message about humanity’s togetherness in the face of oppression and struggle*, I have to say, this did not come as a surprise at all. But what did is that it’s in the act of ditching my therapists that I found the best form of recovery thanks to the solidarity, support and testimonies of others, and learnt the most valuable lesson for my wellbeing which is to not force myself into a situation that I find toxic*.
*Just to reassure you, I am not some sort of serial ditcher. However, for the good of the article, I decided that I was not going to feed your misplaced curiosity by disclosing how many of them there have been and the circumstances.