Sincerity and Shipwrecks: Being Yourself in Therapy

Hi Friends!

I hope summertime is treating you well. I find that this time of year feels both slow and fast, which is an interesting phenomena and probably a great indicator of what it feels like to raise little children and age (two things I'm doing at this point in my life).

Today, I wanted to breach the subject that I think often crosses people's minds when they enter into therapy, which is some variation of the thought: 'How weird can I be in here? Will my therapist 'get' it? What if they think I'm completely nuts?'

I can't speak for every counselor and therapist in the world. However, I can tell you that your worries about your weird, obsessive thoughts are common. Your fears of being 'discovered' as untreatable, unlovable, unlikeable by your therapist are fears all clients carry into the therapy room. Judging your thoughts as bad, shameful, or even sinful, is something I encounter frequently in my office with my clients.

Let me reassure you, in my practice (and in many other therapists' offices as well), your weird is welcome.

I'd like to tell you a 'weird' thing about myself. After my daughter died, I went through a stage where I was obsessed with shipwrecks. I would spend hours reading about sunken boats, and my husband could often find me in the middle of the night scrolling furiously, diving down another rabbit hole of morbid curiosity. It all started with the tragic sinking of the Ducks in Branson in 2018. For whatever strange reason, I was equal parts captivated and horrified by this news story. I read everything I could, and then, this research devolved into studying all sorts of sunken ships. I was a woman possessed.

I spoke about this compulsion to research sunken boats incessantly with colleagues. One friend pointed out the following: 'Your soul was sorting through the deep loss, missing tangible treasure, and overall reconciling of sunken dreams you had for Harper (my daughter) and for parenthood.' This seemed to resonate and comfort me. Her words welcomed the weird in me, and I felt instantly at peace. I didn't need to read another shipwreck story for many years after that.

If you are struggling with bringing your full self to therapy in true sincerity, know this: a good therapist wants to see all of you. They desire to know you at your core, and they will sit with you in your weird for as long as you need until you heal. I hope you find relationships that help you come to your oddest, sincerest, happiest version of self. You deserve this.

Take exquisite care of yourself,

How to: Take Back Your Power

Hi friends! I hope you are doing well! Here in Oklahoma, we are enjoying a lovely summer so far. Last night, I sat on the porch while watching the rain softly fall, and it was a delight. If porch sitting were an Olympic sport, I'd be a gold medalist.

Onward to today's topic! How to take back your power... (after an event outside your control happens). This came to me when I was thinking about the later stages of working with clients who initially come in for trauma therapy, after a scary event happens for them, like a sexual assault, a natural disaster, a car wreck, etc. The first portion of trauma therapy is pretty similar for most clinicians and clients. I'll tell you a secret: all therapies work. There is no perfect therapy for trauma! EMDR works, CBT works, IFS works, CPT works, Brain spotting works, ART works, DBT works, and so on and so forth. Therapy works on trauma by doing a few different things: desensitizing the system to triggers by exposure and relaxation, and creating new belief systems after the trauma that allow us to re-establish our trust in ourselves and the world.

Taking back your power is typically a later-stage recovery period in trauma work. I'd argue that most clients don't always make it to this stage, because they get through a majority of trauma counseling, and feel better and they cease treatment. No shame in that at all. Sometimes that's all you want from counseling is to feel better and when you've accomplished that goal, you're good (for a while). When clients come to see me, it may be because they're like, "Oh, so I thought I was done, but this stuff is still stealing my power." Our work then becomes about how to take their power back, how to empower yourself again, after your sense of power and control has been stolen from you.

Step one is to define what a good life for you looks like post-trauma. It's different for every client. I can't define it for you, and neither can your mama, your boyfriend or your nosy neighbor. You have to say, "Okay, I'm alive. I made it after the terrible thing happened. How do I thrive again?" For one client, it was creating art again after an event had made her question her ability to create. All of us have to decide what thriving looks like for us as people and then go recreate that life in small measurable steps. You won't get there in one day, and you won't get there in one year. But, if you keep moving forward, you will get there. I promise.

Step two is setting boundaries that ensure your sense of safety, but still allow you to forge relationships at a pace that is doable for you. My clients that are healing from toxic relationships with childhood caregivers often still long to be close to those people. And to that, I say, "You are an adult now. You can keep yourself safe. You set the pace of any and all relationships in your life. You accept when people won't change and you change whatever you need to, to maintain your wellbeing."

Step three is learning to trust yourself again. If we think of trauma as disrupting our relationship with trusting ourselves and the world us, it makes sense that we have to work to get to a place where that trust can be fostered within ourselves again. Your child parts are longing for you to be in charge, to keep them safe, to listen to their warnings and heed their lessons. Trust is built in the small everyday actions of showing up for yourself and all of your parts, even the ones you aren't sure you love. It means taking care of your needs, and prioritizing them even in the face of a people pleasing attitude, often cultivated in a chaotic, scary childhood. It means giving yourself credit when you make mistakes, take responsibility and attempt to fix them. It means being there to catch yourself when you fall, to remind yourself that no matter what, you've got this. You will survive.

You are worthy of long-term recovery from trauma, and you deserve to take back your power. Know that I am rooting for you, and if you decide you want to work towards that goal, please send me an email or reach out to me for a consultation. I'd love to partner with you on the next step of the journey.

Take exquisite care of yourself,

"Plantin' Them Roses Instead: A Reflection on Maturity and Music"

Hi friends!

I hope you are well. I am doing great, just basking in the summer sun and enjoying the peace that comes with being content with where I am, and where I'm headed. Today, I thought I would share my thoughts on something a little different, a song. Kimberly Perry, formerly of The Band Perry, has released a new song titled, "If I Die Young, Part 2", and it is a delight. See the video below.

But first, I have to give you some context about the original song by The Band Perry, "If I Die Young." I was OBSESSED with this song at the tender age of sixteen. I was morbid, romantic, and dramatic, as teenagers often are, and the lyrics in "If I Die Young" spoke to my adolescent soul. When I say I was obsessed, I mean it. At one point, I journeyed to a local cemetery, photographed moss-covered headstones, and combined the lyrics and pictures into art for my senior art class project. I went searching for that artwork the other day and couldn't find it, but I sure wish I had kept it, if for no other reason, than to show the teens I see in therapy now that I do *understand* what it's like to think about deep and morbid things at a young age.

When I saw Kimberly Perry had released a part two to her band's most famous song, I leapt onto Spotify to listen, and I wept. Her words are so powerful, her wisdom is palpable, and her heart has matured. It's what happens to all of us, as we grow up. Or, at least, it's what we hope happens, if we are lucky enough to keep living.

Now that I have held a child in my arms who has died, grieved the loss of three other babies, and worked through the trials that grief can put a person through, I am grateful to have the gift of time. I am happy to say I lived through it, and I am happy to see how my roses turned out, even if the plan for the garden changed from what I originally pictured. Flowers are still beautiful, even if arranged differently.

We recognize that instead of wishing for a romantic and beautiful death surrounded by roses, we should be 'plantin' them roses instead." As she sings, "the sharp knife of a short life, now I know better there's no such thing as enough time." So I ask you, dear readers, what song would you say eclipses your teenage self, and what song represents your growth now? How are you planting your roses now? How are you passing along your name before it's on a headstone?

I hope you find equal parts of romanticism and maturity and peace and contentment as you continue to grow older. I know I have, and I am glad that "I've had time to bloom."

Take exquisite care of yourself,