I don’t write much about my therapist anymore because I “graduated” from therapy a few years ago. I know he is always there for me if I need a session, which is one reason why I mostly don’t feel the need to go back. As long as I have the safety net, I feel safe to fly on my own.
Also, I have internalized so many of his messages. I can “hear” his “voice” when I am in a bad place, so I don’t need the physical proximity to get the therapy. I know exactly what he will say – He will tell me how great I am doing while I look at him like he has two heads. He will challenge all of my negativity about myself and point out how far I have come. He will call me a walking miracle. He will never validate my fears of being certifiably “crazy.”
He will show a reaction to the pain I share – not the stoic look on the faces of shrinks on TV but the reaction of someone who is validating that the abuse really was “that bad.” He will then keep redirecting me to removing the label of “crazy” from myself and put that label squarely on my abusers’ shoulders.
He will 100% believe whatever I tell him happened and 100% believe in my ability to be OK. He is 100% confident that I will overcome every single painful memory and that I will never be “normal” because I am too extraordinary of a person to be limited by normality.
I have referred friends to my therapist over the years, telling them that if he can “fix me,” then he can “fix” anyone. Of course, he would say that I did all of the “fixing” myself in an extraordinary way, but I am painfully aware that I could have just as easily scared off a lesser therapist.
One friend contacted him a couple of weeks ago while her own therapist was indisposed. She told him that I made the referral. I don’t know what he said to her specifically about me, but she told me that he thinks the world of me.
Another close friend has been seeing him regularly for a few years. In her last session, she talked about me for a little while (which I am 100% OK with – I trust them both). She needed someone to talk to about the flashback I shared with her, and it’s not like this is something she can discuss with just anyone.
It was kind of cool hearing his comments. I could completely hear his voice as she related them to me. He was very validating about that “crazy” memory and my reaction to it. She also told him that I had a bad dream, and his response was, “That’s the only kind of dream she ever has.”
I can’t quite articulate why, but that one comment was what inspired this blog entry. He gets it, and he gets me. I tell people all the time that I have nightmares every single night and that I can probably count on one hand the number of “good” dreams I have had in my life. I think most people believe I am exaggerating, but I am not … and my therapist gets that about me. One person on this planet really and truly gets me. Not only does he get me, but he also thinks the world of me. That’s a great feeling!
Photo credit: Hekatekris
Blooming Lotus 