Recently a dancer friend of mine said to me, “You seem to get so much out of your therapy. I never seemed to. What do you do, or what does your therapist do? I’m serious.” Hum. That’s a really great question. Because I do get a lot out of my therapy. But why exactly? I mean, it’s not magic. Anyway, I’ve been chewing on it. And whereas I’m not sure I have a complete and perfect answer, today’s blog is my attempt at one.

Why HAS my work with my therapist been so successful?

Before going further, I should back up and reiterate, if I have indeed iterated before, exactly how I came to be in therapy in the first place. For the LONGEST TIME, I have been attracted to self-help, psychological, alternative health, and spiritual growth material. This, I assume, is partly due to how I am “hard-wired” and partly due to the fact that I endured a lot of trauma growing up and have, for quite a while now, been looking for some way, some “how,” to resolve it. In short, part of me has always known that there has to be a better way to live, or–simply–a way to heal.

Early on, this journey led me to countless books and a number of “new age” (although they’re actually “old age”) philosophies and techniques. To be clear–I learned a great deal from all of them, but none of them quite did “the trick.” What they did do, however, was give me a profound exposure to the vast information available regarding–hum–ways to put yourself back together. In being exposed to all this material, of course, I read about therapy and had friends in therapy, and although I wasn’t opposed to the idea, I never thought, That’s something I need to do. Looking back, I obviously could have benefited greatly from the right work with the right person, but–I guess–it simply wasn’t time.

Oddly enough, the thing that did “the trick” was a terrible (no good, very bad) relationship that I was in, since suffering seems to be the ever-great motivator toward changing one’s self and one’s circumstances. It was at this point–in the middle of everything falling apart–that it was suggested to me by my Reiki teacher that although I was clearly attracted to and cared for the person I was with, perhaps THE REASON I was attracted to them had something to do with my family history and MAYBE I SHOULD GET MY ASS TO A THERAPIST. So that was it–I went not only because I was miserable, but also because I was curious.

What the fuck (exactly) is going on here? I wondered.

When I initially started shopping for a therapist, I had NO IDEA what to look for, since clearly–or at least it should be clear when dealing with human beings–that some therapists are good therapists and others are bad therapists. As mine says, “SOMEONE had to graduate at the bottom of the class.” My method for finding the right person, then, consisted purely of asking a counselor friend of mine–someone I trusted–for a recommendation. And whereas the first person he recommended wasn’t taking new clients, the second person he recommended (my current therapist) was. One afternoon I called her, and she later called me back. It was a short conversation, but by the time I got off the phone with her, she’d not only made me laugh out loud, but she’d also made me feel respected and comfortable. She’s continued to do these three things for the last four years plus.

The FIRST time I met my therapist, she asked what was going on. “Why are you here?” she said. Then, for nearly an hour, she just listened as I did AN OVERVIEW. Since I’d done enough work on my own, I KNEW what “the biggies” were, so I laid them all out there. EVERYTHING that I’d ever been afraid to say or talk about, I said or talked about. I just vomited all over her floor as she quietly and simply watched. Then at the end, she gave me her overview. “Here are some things I notice,” she said. “You have some boundary issues; you have some family-of-origin issues (but who doesn’t?).”

Then she offered an encouragement–“But everything is workable. It’s ALL workable.” Lastly, before I left, we discussed how often I wanted to be there. “If money weren’t a consideration,” she said, “how often would YOU LIKE to come here?” From there, we made a plan. But this, I think, is a HUGE FACTOR in why my work with my therapist has been successful. She’s always let me steer the ship. I believe the technical term for her approach is self-directed or client-directed therapy. Not that she never pokes or prods, but I don’t think she’s ever, even once, said, “Let’s talk about your father.” In other words, she doesn’t push me to discuss things unless I’m ready. “My theory,” she says, “is that when your subconscious is ready to deal with something, it will come up.”

So far, that’s been my experience. During the last four years, we’ve circled back around to EVERYTHING I threw up on her floor during that initial meeting and then some. As I’m a hyper-organized person and the method works for me, I normally come with a list, a collection of topics that I get “hung up” on or curious about between sessions. Someone was rude to me. I felt rejected on the dance floor or in my dating life. This person pisses me off. I’m worried about how I look. I’m judging myself for smoking again. I had this crazy dream last night. Through all of it, my therapist listens (she has a big hard-on for being “present”), then comments. Sometimes she affirms–“That person is full of bullshit.” Other times she confronts–“You’re full of bullshit.”

From day one, she’s told me, “There are two rules for this hour. I don’t care what you do with the rest of the week, but during this hour, we’re going to SIT IN TRUTH, and we’re NOT going to judge ourselves.” Consequently, the message she’s communicated to and instilled in me is that–well–I’m okay. Never once has she not accepted me exactly the way I am. And not that she’s all hippy-dippy about it, but she’s modeled unconditional love to me. As a result–from the beginning–I’ve thought, This is someone I can trust.

And if you don’t think you can trust your therapist, don’t walk–run–the other way.

Occasionally I have thought, I don’t know if I can tell her THAT, and that’s when I’ve known I had to. After all, if I don’t trust her with everything, then what’s the point? If I can’t be completely me, then our relationship isn’t going to be as productive as it could be. With anything, you get out what you put in, and since therapy is so expensive, well, you better put in all you can.

At least that’s my attitude.

To my friend who’s a dancer, I would say that work with a therapist is obviously a relationship, and you know when you dance well with someone and when you don’t. Some partners you trust to hold you, and others you’d be deathly afraid to let come near you. So that has to be the foundation. I’ve got to like this person as a person, I need them to like me (even if we only see each other once a week for an hour and we NEVER have a cup of coffee together), and we need to trust each other. They have to trust that some way, some “how,” I know what’s best for my life and the direction I want my ship to go, and I have to trust them that they can help me navigate my stormy waters.

A navigator. Maybe that’s a good way to think about a therapist. So often I go to mine and say, “Sally is really pissing me off, but I don’t want to tell her to walk the plank (bitch).” Then my therapist will give me what she calls “strategies,” different paths I could take. As things progress, we see what works and what doesn’t work. Another thing she does that’s helpful is offer stories from her personal life. (I’ve heard a lot of therapists won’t do this.) Once she told me that she was scheduled to meet someone for lunch but decided in the parking lot of the restaurant that she had no desire to spend an hour with this person. So she called them and said, “Yeah, I’m not coming.” My mouth was ajar–at the time I never would have considered being that direct. But the fact that she had meant that I could and that THERE ARE OTHER WAYS of being in the world.

A few closing thoughts. My therapist went to therapy personally for years. (Would you go to a dance instructor who had NEVER taken any lessons or gotten out on the dance floor?) Also, my therapist never gives me homework or directives (although once she did tell me to get the fuck off online dating applications). “To tell you what to do would be patronizing,” she says. “You know what’s best for you.” So she believes in me. This is huge. More than anyone else in my life, she constantly affirms my talents, abilities, and inner wisdom. I assume she’s able to do this because she’s secure in herself. Lastly, she’s honest–she’s not afraid to tell me what her personal struggles are or when something is outside of her realm of expertise.

As to why I keep going to therapy (if anyone wonders), it’s because I see results. My life consistently has less and less drama in it. I like myself more and more. The quality of my relationships continue to improve (although the quantity continues to decline). Recently my therapist said that my perfectionism actually serves me in terms of my therapy because I keep working at “all this.” It’s not that my life has to be perfect, but I am COMMITTED to this process.

So, in short–right person, right relationship, self-directed, results-focused, commitment.

I hope this helps.