Therapy. Double-edged sword. Not that it’s anything like a sword really. Unless it is cutting the patient’s head off with a sword therapy. Which isn’t too popular these days. But, you know, metaphor.
I was unable to attend last week’s session because I wasn’t well so the first proper, try to make headway of things and begin the work session was yesterday. And it was tough, saddening and heavy. Realising we are stuck or broken or fucked or whatever is an important part of therapy, one which often means we are indeed ready to move forward with the help of the therapy. But it is also a stark reminder that we are stuck or broken or fucked up.
No, that’s not tautology. Most humans with stuck or broken or fucked up parts of the psyche find effective strategies for self-management and getting on with everyday life despite those issues. Not necessarily healthy strategies some of the time but ones which mean we can still function reasonably well within a wider community. Getting back down to basics and recognising just why we have put such strategies into place to begin with feels like undermining their effectiveness and rendering ourselves vulnerable.
Obviously if the structure of a thing is broken then that thing may need to be partially or even wholly deconstructed before it can be repaired and strengthened. Which is fine if you’re mending pots, more worrisome when you’re hoping to mend yourself. Anyone got a sword?