By: Emily Gauthier
You may know someone, love someone, or be concerned for someone, maybe even all of the above, who would benefit from having support.
So what does therapy actually look like? And what could it mean for the person we care about?
Consider what it might mean for them to engage in therapy. Maybe even ask them.
Maybe they feel like it disarms their strength.
Maybe their lived experience has shown them that the “helping system” is anything but helpful.
Maybe they fear feeling misunderstood. Or judged.
Maybe that reinforces the belief that no one could really understand their pain, so why even try.
Maybe they question the genuineness of therapists. Do they actually care? Will I just be another person walking in and out of an office? Another number. Another chart. Another body in the room.
When someone says “therapy isn’t for me” or “therapy can’t help me” or “they’re paid to care,” maybe what they are really saying is:
Is there someone who could actually understand me?
Is there someone who will really listen?
Is there someone who would stay?
At the center of all of that is one word. Safety.
Safety in consistency.
Safety in emotional reciprocity.
Safety in support.
Safety in being challenged in a way that doesn’t harm.
Safety in rupture and repair and still being shown up for.
That is therapeutic safety. That is security.
And that S word is something everyone wants to feel. Everyone deserves to feel. And yet for many people, it has been a privilege. That needs to be acknowledged.
A note to you, if you are that person.
As a therapist, I want to invite you to consider something.
Whatever you are dealing with.
Whatever you have experienced.
Whatever thoughts race through your mind.
You have survived this long on your own.
There is resilience in you. Real resilience. You likely do not need therapy in order to survive.
But there is something powerful about choosing it anyway.
There is power in choice. In autonomy. In self agency.
You get to make this decision for yourself. You get to take a step toward support even if you are still unsure. Even if you feel ambivalent. You decide.
That is empowering.
And if you do feel like you need therapy, there is power in that too.
Acknowledging pain. Recognizing hurt. Naming your internal experience and not running from it. Not deflecting. Not avoiding.
That is courage.
You are one step closer to asking for help. And that is human. We are wired to reach for connection when we need it. It is instinctual. Listen to yourself.
Therapy does not discount your strength.
It does not discredit your survival.
It does not mean you cannot solve your own problems.
It does not mean you are weak.
Therapy can mean a growing willingness to experience without running. To think without immediately turning against yourself. To be safely challenged. To use your own story as a place to grow from. To build healthier relationships, including the one you have with yourself.
The focus is not on using a therapist to solve your life.
You have always been capable.
Sometimes what is needed is a safe mirror. One that is not shaped by shame or pain. One that is steady and nonjudgmental.
There is no prize for going through life without help. There is no scoreboard keeping track of who survived the most alone.
What there is, is choice.
Your choice.
The choice to live instead of only survive.
Because you deserve that.
And you deserve to do it with someone who is not “paid to care”, but someone who studied, trained, sat in supervision, completed internships, passed exams, and chose this work in order to care… to care well. To show up. To sit with you in your pain.
In the best way they possibly can.
