There are a lot of seemingly legitimate excuses not to do therapy. And I’m not exempt from having these reservations despite being a therapist myself. The last time I found myself considering going back to therapy I had a thriving private practice, was newly married, and enjoyed an abundance of friends. I also struggled with feeling burnt out by my career, was living long-distance from my new husband, and felt helpless to support my best friend, who wasn’t doing well. My life was full of gifts and I was struggling with fatigue, self-doubt, powerlessness. It’s a lot easier for me to reassure my clients that therapy will be worthwhile for them. It’s a lot harder to bolster myself to trust a therapist, challenge societal commentary about therapy, and engage in a process whose endpoint I can’t predict. Here’s my standard list of excuses for not doing therapy and a version of the pep talk I have to give myself to push things along:

This is my puppy, Billie. She is a strong proponent of therapy.

“It’ll get better if I just leave it alone”

Honeygirl— you know the opposite is true. It is not better to leave a wound to fester— it stinks, it spreads, it gets more painful, more debilitating. And the longer we ignore a wound, the longer and more complicated the healing process. It’s better to get the thing assessed and treated and to follow instructions for healing.

“I don’t have the time or money”

Yessssssister, time and money are commodities. And we prioritize these commodities according to what’s important to us. We can say growth, relationships, and balance are important, but what meaning does it have if we’re not willing to put our resources toward cultivating them? We need to start manifesting our values, instead of just paying lip service to them. Put your money (and time) where your mouth is and make the investment.

“Needing help means I’m broken and weak”

Lauren, darling, no. Needing help from others is the most human thing there is. Human beings are social animals— we survive in packs. How we identify, acknowledge, and express our emotions, thoughts, and desires are inextricably linked to our history of connections and current connections with others. I understand cultural and/or familial messages don’t always align with this idea of asking for help, but seeking help from others is rooted in psychological and social science. Utilizing others for soothing and problem-solving is normal and necessary for your human wellness.

“I’m scared of the emotional pain”

Oh sweetie, yes, growing pains are painful- no getting around that. But really, this is just fear of the unknown. And I want to validate that fear— therapy might be hard and that is scary. Or you might experience relief right away— we don’t know! Some feelings are so intense it seems like they might crush us— but they can’t. And experience shows that moving through tough feelings often makes way for clarity, vitality, and lightheartedness. The fact is, we’ll probably experience both pain and relief. Either way, this is an opportunity for deepening and enriching your life. Plus, the devil we know is worn out and booooorrrrring.

“I don’t want to deal with whatever I might find out”

Mmmmhhmmm, pumpkin, you know this phrasing indicates that on some level you already know there’s some stuff that needs to change. There’s a legal concept known as “willful blindness” wherein a person avoids liability by keeping herself intentionally unaware of the facts. And you don’t want to go through life like that. Wholehearted living means leaning into these discomforts to be able to fully experience the depth and richness of life. It’s worth it.

So what happened?

Basically, I got tired. I exhausted myself by alternately coping, ignoring, and overriding the parts of myself and my life that required attention until I felt totally stuck. My go-it-alone strategies weren’t working anymore, so I was ready to call in reinforcements. Just making the decision to commit to therapy reduced my angst around needing help. Framing money and time as “investments” in my wellness and relationships helped me overcome my stinginess.
And, um, yeah— therapy was painful. I’m a person that reflexively tries to resist feelings, so my intense feelings are sometimes expressed through physical pain. The technical name for this is “somatization.” Hi, my name is Lauren— I’m a somatizer. So not only do I endure the discomfort of vulnerability while I’m processing feelings, I also sometimes get headaches, nausea, and neck pain— super cool! Through this round of therapy, I learned how to meditate and gently comfort myself by “being with” my body to reduce pain— and it flipping works! And therapy did reveal insights that I felt required action— namely expressing my needs more intentionally. This translated into distressingly dramatic shifts in my closest relationships, which was also very painful. However, grateful and proud to report that those relationships are more intimate and resilient today.
So, yes, I walked through pain, but all my excuses for avoiding therapy seem inconsequential compared to the wisdom and vitality I gained. A ship turning by degrees to change its trajectory, and ultimately its destination, is a metaphor for the therapeutic process. It takes effort to turn a ship that’s speeding (or sputtering) along— and the promise of a new horizon is worth it.