Mental Health Counseling | LPC, NCC, CPCS, SEP
Whenever new clients are impressed with my office (which is all the time, really), I make sure they know I have absolutely nothing to do with how cool the space is. All credit goes to Atlanta psychiatrist Eric Fier. Here’s a recent article from the Atlanta Jewish Times about the therapy space and his vision for how it can create a new experience for counseling clients of all ages.
“Wh
at would happen,” the attorney asked, “if everyone around you judged you for the worst moments of your life?”
The room fell silent. I was with a group at Atlanta’s Southern Center for Human Rights listening to a lawyer speak about his work against the death penalty. And while I haven’t ended up in prison for any of my worst moments, the attorney’s words have stayed with me.
At some point in our lives all of us act in ways that go against our values, principles and beliefs. We lie, or cheat, or cut someone off in traffic when we’re really mad at our boss or child. As kids, and then as teens and adults, we behave in ways we later want to forget because these moments stir up such guilt and embarrassment and shame. We get nervous someone will find out, and this anxiety can pave the way for depression or panic attacks.
So many of my counseling clients worry terribly about what I and others will think of them when one of their worst moments is revealed. They worry they will be judged as harshly as they have judged themselves. They worry that others won’t forgive them, especially since it has been so difficult to find forgiveness in themselves. They worry that others will write them off as bad, since they see themselves as bad.
I know these truths for two reasons: One is because I’ve listened to many of these worst moments in my therapy sessions with clients. Second is because I’m a human with my own worst moments.
Coming to therapy is a brave act. It takes courage to begin to speak about these worst moments and what we fear they say about us. When we speak them out loud, we often fear being judged as harshly as we have judged ourselves.
But there is more to us than our worst moments — much, much more. In counseling, we look at our worst moments and best moments from a place of compassion and curiosity, because we can learn from them both. It’s important to put both in a larger context, trying to make sense of them so we can let go of debilitating shame, depression and anxiety, and truly move on.
So please remember: There is more to all of us than our worst moments. There is more to you than your worst moments.
“I think too much,” someone with depression will say. “How can I stop?”
“I overthink things,” someone with anxiety will say. “How can I stop?”
We’re taught that thinking is a good thing — right? Thinking is how we avoid danger, make decisions about our priorities, decide who to spend time and figure out what to eat, along with a million other daily choices.
But there’s a difference between thinking that helps move us to someplace new and thinking that keeps us stuck in the same place. I’ve come to know that when a teen or adult client says, “I’m thinking too much,” it’s usually their way of saying “I’m thinking in circles right now and it’s driving me crazy.”
At some point in our lives, we all get stuck thinking about big choices, what others may think of us, past regrets, and future possibilities. Usually this isn’t fun thinking, like fantasizing about a much-needed vacation. Instead it sounds more like this: “But if this happens…” or “If only I had done this…” or “I can’t believe I …” or “I want this but I don’t know if I want this thing that goes with it …” Oftentimes it’s this crazy-making kind of thinking — along with the anxiety that usually goes with it — that brings people into therapy for the first time.
There are a few ways out of this analysis paralysis. Sometimes speaking thoughts out loud to someone without a stake in the outcome — like a therapist — can help see us see situations with more clarity. Sometimes making small decisions regardless of thoughts can help break us free of the mind’s spin-cycle. And, of course, dealing with underlying anxiety or depression can help change the quality and nature of our thoughts. Reflection is useful. Round and round rumination is not.
Depression and anxiety are bad enough, but sometimes their side effects can feel like the poison-filled icing on top of what’s already a pretty terrible-tasting cake. If you’re depressed — and not sleeping, or can’t motivate yourself, or are pretty convinced you’re the worst person who’s ever lived — than my heart goes out to you. If you’re anxious — and can’t concentrate, or can’t slow down your racing mind — than I am so, so sorry. Depression and anxiety are bad enough, and the symptoms that often come along with them are enough to make us feel crazy, even though we’re not.
One of my least favorite things about depression and anxiety (because I keep a list, right?) is how scarily isolated people can feel and become. When we don’t feel good, the impulse is usually to hole up by ourselves. It’s not a bad thing for a night or two or three, but when those consecutive nights watching Atlanta forecasts on the Weather Channel tick up in the double-digits then it may be a sign things aren’t headed in a good direction.
And yet, if you feel bad, then hanging out with people can feel fake. On the outside you might be all smiles, but on the inside you may be feeling like you’re one minute away from breaking out in tears or a panic attack. It can take a huge amount of energy to fake that everything’s okay when everything really feels like it’s crumbling around and inside you.
So if you’re reading this right now and this description of anxiety and depression resonates, then please consider the possibility of finding some support. Not the kind of support that tells you “it’s going to be alright” but the kind of support that helps you figure out how to make things be alright. Your mind can slow down. You are capable of feeling well-rested. You can feel better. You don’t need to go through this alone.
Lately I’ve been reflecting on the magic I’ve found in three words that I’ve been using often in my therapy office. These three words lead clients to visibly relax — to breathe more deeply, sit more comfortably, and move quickly (if temporarily) through layers of worry.
The words are these: You’re not crazy.
Oftentimes, therapists forget to tell our clients they aren’t crazy. We assume that our clients already know this — that they have a sense that what they’re experiencing is solidly in the range of normal human experience. But the truth is that life can be so difficult and paralyzing and isolating that it can be easy to begin to believe that nobody else thinks this way, or feels this way, or is this way.
And yet what neuroscience has been teaching us lately is that even very scary mental health concerns have very real neurobiological underpinnings. There are good, brain-based reasons to explain why kids and adults sometimes feel depressed and anxious. There are clear brain-based reasons that show why people sometimes experience temporary relief in self-harm. There are straightforward, brain-based reasons why trauma survivors often are flooded by memories. It’s important for clients to know that they are having a very normal (if challenging) response to what’s probably an abnormal, stressful situation. In other words, they’re not crazy.
Of course, there’s a difference between hearing your therapist say something and believing it. But after clients have trusted me with their vulnerabilities and truths, it can be powerfully reassuring for them to know that I still think they’re as sane as the next guy — or me. It’s not a magic pill, but it’s a start.
Is your sanity feeling threatened? Contact Dana to set up a time to talk through what’s been going on with you and figure out a plan to move forward, sanity intact.
Something I hear a lot is “I shouldn’t be feeling like this.” Instead, we think we should be feeling happy about our lives when we’re not, or shouldn’t be feeling jealous or worried or upset when that’s exactly how we’re feeling in the moment.
Compare that to physical pain. We rarely tell ourselves we shouldn’t be feeling the pain of a headache or stomachache. We accept that our physical pain is real and figure out how to take care of it — with a nap, or medicine, or whatever is right for that moment. We know that telling ourselves “I shouldn’t be feeling this papercut right now” doesn’t actually help the papercut feel better.
So why the difference? After all, brain scans show that humans register emotional pain in the same part of our brains where we register physical pain. In other words, to our brain there’s not a whole lot of difference between the pain of feeling rejected and the pain of a sprained ankle. They both hurt; they both need gentle attention and care. And while counseling can’t take fix sprains or cuts or physical bruising, it does provide first aid for the very real emotional challenges that we all experience.
Ready to get help? Contact Dana to set up an appointment to talk through your goals.