Recently I was in my own therapy appointment. I went into it not expecting too much of it as I generally feel like my mental health is in a good place right now but I value my every-other-week sessions with my therapist. I also so deeply value the work of therapy in and of itself that I know I will come back to therapy throughout my lifetime, even if I take breaks here and there. This particular session took even me by surprise though (I should know as a therapist that when someone comes in with the sentiment of, “everything is going well right now” that usually means we can get into some deeper work and it might actually be a particularly heavy session). Alas, I even fooled myself.
As I sat down and started my usual small talk, Christi (this is not my therapist’s real name) cut through my shit rather quickly. She said something like, “You’re a therapist so you know as well as I do that the world is heavy right now and people are suffering. How are you carrying that?” I nearly dropped my water bottle as I processed her very direct question. After a moment, I said, “I guess I’m not; I’m avoiding it all.” She proceeded to gently remind me that I was carrying the weight of the world even if I was also trying to actively ignore it. As a therapist, a mom, and a generally sensitive person both Christi and I know that I truly am carrying the weight of the world even when, and maybe especially when, I’m masking it quite well.
I let myself reflect for a moment how this heaviness was showing up for me. “I have definitely been numbing myself with my phone a lot more. And my house is a disaster - I can’t seem to keep up with the constant demands of a toddler, a growing business, a pregnancy, and my own mental health, AND keep my house clean.” She laughed and said, “I’m actually proud of you for letting your house be a mess. That’s a big deal for you.” She was right, normally a clean house represents some sort of control for me that’s usually a facade. (Hi yes, I’m your therapist and I clearly have my own shit I’m still working on). “Let’s talk about why you’re numbing yourself.” Ooooof. I hadn’t fully processed this myself until that moment, but it was immediately clear to me that a recent headline in the news had triggered some old trauma for me. “Ouch,” I said out loud as I told her this. I told her that it was especially humbling because I had felt proud of myself for how I had helped some clients process their own recent traumas that were activated and I was just now realizing that I hadn’t taken care of myself first and foremost.
As a somewhat seasoned therapist, this hit me hard. It’s safe to say I was feeling quite humbled as I processed this with her. I tell my clients all the time that healing is not a destination, but a journey and yet I still found myself saying, “but that happened over a decade ago, why is it STILL coming up for me now??” As I sat across from my own therapist, my tears started to fall as I realized, again, that this trauma was never going to fully go away. I was admittedly avoiding eye contact with her because I knew the sobs were surfacing. When I finally did look up at her, I saw something that I wasn’t expecting… her own tears were flowing down her face. I expected gentleness and kindness as these were normal responses I’d received from her. I even maybe expected a small smile or a compassionate statement. What I didn’t expect was that my own experiences would bring my therapist to tears. After a moment of shared tears, she said, “don’t ever let this work harden you. It is hard work and the world needs your softness.”
Ooooof, Christi cutting deep again. I immediately remembered the very small handful of times I’ve cried in sessions with my own clients. Each time I felt weird about it, not wanting to make their experiences about me. But what I could never know until I myself was the client crying with my therapist was just how healing it is to look up and see your therapist unapologetically letting their own tears flow. A hill I’m willing to die on as a therapist is that I am human first and foremost. Yes, this clearly means I have my own baggage and trauma I’m healing from. But it also means that I have human feelings and can empathize with my clients in a uniquely healing way that I could never do if I was denying myself my own humanity.
So yes, I have experienced trauma. And yes I’m a therapist. And yes I am triggered at times. And no, I don’t think that should disqualify me from helping others process their own trauma. And in fact, maybe it makes me even better at what I do. Maybe some shared tears here and there are more healing than a fake smile will ever be.
