The therapist’s waiting room is bold and loud; the walls are painted a garish yellow and the floors covered with dull industrial carpet. I sink into a warm, comfortable armchair and listen to the undertones of Liam Gallagher as Oasis plays from a muffled speaker on the wall. My leg is shaking. I am nervous. I have tried CBT before and it has not been a good experience. Who’s to say it’ll work this time? But I have to be positive, I have to keep an open mind. I will do anything to feel better.
My past experience has not been good simply because i didn’t like the therapist. To some, it might seem trivial to deny the help of a professional due to a personal disliking, but I think it is important to like your therapist. I think it’s essential actually because therapy is designed to delve into your deepest, sometimes darkest thoughts. It’s important that you feel you can trust them. I’m sure many people have benefitted from the workings of my previous therapist, but I didn’t take comfort in her sessions; I found her patronising and very often rude. As I poured out my most anxious thoughts in her office, she would often look at me as if to say “you’re bothering me with this when there are people out there with real problems? Man up!”
I’m digressing. Where was I? Oh yes, listening to Oasis in the waiting room of my therapist’s office waiting for my very first session. Her name is Lacey. That’s all I know. I don’t even know what she looks like, but she has already taken £45 for the forthcoming hour from my bank account so I hope she knows what she’s talking about.
The door opens. A tall, blonde lady walks across the waiting room, then towards me. Her face is friendly; warm. She smiles a genuine smile which actually makes me feel a little better. She welcomes me into her office; her voice is soft and gentle. I walk into her office and she follows. It is NOTHING like the waiting room. Her office is small, but pleasant. It has two couches, a chair and a table upon which sits a lily plant. A chrome light stand towers behind one of the couches, casting a golden gleam across the room. She offers me a seat. I am nervous, but comfortable. “Would you like a tea? Coffee?” she smiles. I soon settle.
My therapist welcomes me in a way that the old one never did. She listens to me with patience. She looks at me in a way that tells me she understands. Even if she doesn’t; I feel like she does. She nods, smiles and even makes me laugh at time. I feel peaceful.
I have decided to keep the details of my sessions to myself. I’ve decided this because the contents of my sessions are private; between my therapist and myself. It would break our bond for either of us to digress what goes on within her office. But I will share what I have learnt about myself today:
- I am a perfectionist. One of the reasons why I worry so much in life is because I want everything to be perfect. In many respects, this is a good thing because it shows that I work hard. This is true in many aspects of my life: work, friendships, relationships. However, in someways, it is not healthy. I need to learn when to let go. When it is time to stop.
- I am very self-critical. This is a big one because it means that, because I am a perfectionist, it is very difficult for me to settle for second best. I am my own worst enemy. You know how some people imagine the conscience as being an angel and a devil sat on each shoulder? Mine is more like having a tiny version of myself on each shoulder shouting “your a loser!” and “you’re worrying again you pathetic mess!”
So I have set myself a target. Every day I’m going to write one aspect of my personality that I like in my diary. Today’s self compliment: I make a mean chicken curry.
Why not try giving yourself a compliment, too?
L
Talking Heads 