The Texture of My Mind
One of my in-laws once said that therapy isn’t akin to cleaning out your attic; rather, it’s like turning on a light. It always intrigued me, and I believe in proactive and preventative care, so I promised myself I’d try it if I could.
Over the last few months, I’ve walked away from each of my therapy sessions with a new insight. A new piece of info about how my brain works, about how I communicate. About how others in my life communicate, and how I can tune into this to be more harmonious with them.
And I’ve since revised the original simile. It’s a light in the attic, sure, but it is more like my brain is a maze. There are fears, worries, bullies from the past around ever corner. There is also joy, hope, and every warm hug I’ve ever received.
Therapy is like me walking blindfolded along the inside walls of this maze and my therapist is letting me know there’s a wall coming up. She’s letting me know how to feel the sidewalls for vines and how to sense potholes.
She’s teaching me how to navigate, something that no one else, not even a close friend can do.
“Talk to someone” is a common way of telling someone to find a therapist, to imply they have yet to understand the structure and texture of their own walls.
It’s not as easy as talking. If it were, therapy could be a coffee date with a friend. Which helps me make decisions and feel grounded, but it doesn’t give me a navigation tool for the maze.
That navigation tool, by the way, isn’t a map. I can’t see what’s coming. It’s more like a training on the textures of my mind. By knowing how the walls feel, and knowing what that means, I can find my way just a bit easier.