Lessons from my therapist.
One of the best things about 2020 was that my insurance company waived the co-pay for therapy visits that occurred virtually, so I received free weekly sessions for a year. Ironically, therapy in sweatpants and a top-knot still isn’t comfortable, but if I’ve learned anything during my 30-something trips around the sun, it’s that the things worth doing in life rarely are.
After having grown up in a family that didn’t really talk about feelings a lot and believed that we keep our skeletons in our closets right where they belong, I’d love it if we could all just normalize attending regular therapy check-ins. They should rank right up there with oil changes and eye exams. Every now and then, it’s good to give our brains a little tune-up (or a complete overhaul, depending on how long you let it go before your next appointment). I’ve been seeing a therapist off and on for years (regularly since about six months after our move to the Pacific Northwest), and it’s been absolutely exhausting…and transformative.
My therapist is less like a stern college professor with an office couch and more like a college bandmate; he’s close to my age and understands the satisfaction of a bass riff in the pocket and the ridiculous pressure of people pleasing. A gallery of instruments hang on the home office wall behind him, and we talk about music almost as much as we process my prickly past.
So every week during the pandemic, I’d sit at my dining table in my sweats behind a Zoom filter to hide the deepening creases around my eyes, because apparently the only flaws I’m willing to reveal are the ones the camera can’t capture. (I may be transparent, but I’m also a little vain.) I’d prop my laptop on a stack of thick books and stare it in the face, confronting the contenders of mental health while my kids are distracted by Disney Plus in the back bedroom.
During these visits, we talk a lot about living in truth, and how healthy boundaries allow us to show up as our whole selves to love others well. Though “boundaries” was a four-letter word in my childhood home, they have been a lifesaver throughout adulthood. Here are some of the most significant lessons I’ve learned from the face on the laptop screen:
Boundaries are healthy. The only people who will rage against you setting boundaries are those who benefitted from you not having boundaries. When I started setting limits on what I would and could allow into my life and still be healthy and at peace, it was easier to see which relationships in my life were healthy, and which ones were toxic and enmeshed. I had a lot of friends cheering me on and supporting my efforts to achieve emotional health and live from a place of freedom and peace; the ones who didn’t were angry because they no longer had the control they wanted over me, and they would attempt to guilt and shame me out of keeping healthy boundaries (sometimes even using Scripture as a form of manipulation). The truth is, boundaries aren’t selfish; they allow us to honor our limited capacity as humans and prioritize overall health so that we can love others better and more authentically. We can’t love out of an empty well. Boundaries keep us from being imprisoned by people-pleasing and protect our hearts from acting out of obligation and harboring resentment. In fact, the Bible says that it is for freedom we’ve been set free, that we shouldn’t allow ourselves to be put in bondage again, and that as freed people, we can serve one another in love. Being bound to another person’s demands actually prevents us from serving them in love.
What others feel and believe about me and expect from me IS NOT my responsibility. I’ve found that no matter what I do, there will always be others who have decided to believe the narrative about me that makes them feel better, and I am not responsible for changing their minds. When a person decides to believe the worst about you, oftentimes the healthiest thing you can do is let them.
I am neither required nor even able to be all things to all people. I am finally learning at 38 what my limits are; for so long, I didn’t realize I was even allowed to have limits. Now, I do what I can where I’m at with what I have and accept my humanity. In doing so, I encourage others to look to God as their source and not to me, and I free up an opportunity for someone else to step in and meet a need they wouldn’t have otherwise been able to. Simply put, I’m learning how to give my best yes, and that doing so is enough.
My Creator has spoken what’s true of me, and it’s truth no matter who does or doesn’t believe it. I am worthy of love and acceptance and respect, I am enough, I deserve to take up space and have my needs validated...even if no one validates them. My value is in who I am as an image bearer of my Creator, not in what others can get out of me or what others believe about me. I know who I am and what’s true about me, and being rooted in that truth leads to true peace.
A balanced relationship is a healthy relationship. I used to have this mentality that I should give 110% to all of my relationships; and more often than not, the other person let me. I would eventually become exhausted because I took on more of the responsibility than I should have, and it allowed the other person permission not to give much effort. I was basically carrying a lot of my relationships, which wasn’t sustainable. Once I started backing off a little and matching the effort of the other person, I found one of two things would happen: either the other person felt the distance and made efforts to remain close, or the relationship faded. But either way, I felt lighter and freer (and even physically had more energy) because I was no longer carrying the full weight of each relationship on my shoulders. As I’ve gotten older, I have fewer relationships, but the ones I have are deeper and stronger as both of us carry the weight of it together.
Have you ever visited a counselor or therapist? What has been the most beneficial thing you’ve learned from your experience? I’d love to hear in the comments below!