What is therapy?

“I’m still not sure why I’m here… what this whole therapy is all about…” I said to my therapist back then.

“What, indeed, is therapy?” my therapist asked me.

I shrugged.

“Well, when you figure that out, I’d love to hear,” she said with a little laugh.

It wasn’t really funny. I had so many questions.

What’s real? What’s fake?

Why am I feeling so alone in this?

Why am I in so much pain?

Who is this therapist sitting across me, and why should I trust her?

If she can’t support me, why am I here?

Isn’t this just retraumatizing me?

Does she even care about how much I am hurting?

I read books, scoured them for answers. I researched and kept digging for the elusive piece I was missing, shared excerpts that had echoes of meaning.

But I never felt better.

I came across some answers. But when I tried to share, to discuss it, it just brought up even more questions.

Time moved on. Our sessions continued on a weekly basis. My thinking shifted. I gained skills.

And yet my questions persisted.

I tried to turn my doubts off and just let myself trust the process. To let myself be led.

Thankfully, painfully, ruthlessly, eventually I decided to move on.

It took a lot of courage, but more than that, desperation, to start with a new therapist.

I came with my questions, my skepticism, my armor heavy and impenetrable.

But as the months go by, my questions begin to evaporate.

Now, experiencing something new, I think I know the answer.

What is therapy?

Therapy is… sitting with someone who is unafraid.

Unafraid of connection.

Unafraid to offer reassurance.

Unafraid to sit with distress.

Unafraid of needs.

Unafraid to be human.

Unafraid to answer the question: What is therapy?