values
It’s the third time I’ve seen him and he hasn’t made me cry yet. I’m not sure if this is good or bad as I feel when you’re paying someone this much to talk about your feelings you’re almost demanding some tangible display of catharsis. It’s the first time I’ve spoken to a male therapist and so far I like him. He tells me that he mainly deals with anxiety, sports performance, and helping people to find their purpose in life. HELLO. He’s like the psychologist equivalent of my ultimate Tinder match and that’s a Super Like from me (BTW this is such a desperate and unnecessary act, swiping right is sufficient.)
His name is Ash and he shares a bit about himself, I’m guessing so I don’t just see him as a cardboard cutout of a person (refer to the last time I saw a therapist in Unbreak my brain), but rather an actual person who has a family and a dog and talks about his weekend plans. At our first session I sat bolt upright in my seat with my legs crossed and arms folded, expecting the same condescending nods and unhelpful assumptions that have been my prior experience (the last therapist I spoke to talked about puberty as a possible cause of my anxiety. As I was 32 at the time and basically closer to menopause than puberty I found this analysis bizarre) but by the third session I feel comfortable enough to curl up on the couch opposite him as I talk about my upcoming weightlifting competition.
We talk a lot about weightlifting. Whilst I’m no elite athlete, it really helps to talk to someone who understands the anxiety behind competing and performance, as this tends to spill over into other areas of my life to the point that I can’t even tell what I’m anxious about half the time and whether I’m crying because I missed all of the lifts or because I’m terrified I’ll die alone. The last therapist I tried seeing understood that fitness is important and that the gym is a good distraction (especially when going through puberty). Good one. Ash tells me actual stories of elite athletes experiencing both triumph and adversity. He talks to me about my pre competition rituals and encourages visualisation strategies. He asks why what I get on the platform is so important, what success or failure means to me and why I feel my results (or lack of) define me as a person. Mostly the questions are all sports related, so the next one comes straight out of left field (I hope I’m using this analogy correctly as I’m unfamiliar with all other sports).
If you were going to tell me something you like about yourself, what would it be?
He catches me so off guard with this question that there’s no air in the room suddenly and I struggle to find my voice. When I do it’s all shaky and weird and I feel silly searching to find the words to answer something so simple. We’ve talked about my childhood and past and present relationships and I’ve breezed through these potentially triggering questions with what I feel is mature and reflective ease, but this one is like being knocked down by a giant dog at the park and getting concussion (childhood memory). Part of me is stoked that I’m finally crying and getting my money’s worth (classic) while the other part is wondering what the hell is wrong with me that I can’t think of even one thing I like about myself off the top of my head. I’m hoping he’ll make some suggestions so I can just agree with them, but he just sits there quietly watching me cry, not in a heartless way but more to let the gravity of my inability to provide an answer sink in.
It’s easy to list things I don’t like about myself. My constant need for assurance and validation from those close to me, my impatience and penchant for overreacting, my defensiveness and my all-or-nothing mentality in literally every aspect of life. That sentence took seconds to write, but it’s now been several days since I had this session and I’m still trying to think of something I like about me. Every potential positive attribute I can think of carries an unspoken question mark on the end of it. Am I disciplined ? Am I courageous? Am I authentic? These are the things I WANT to be, and the things I want to be seen as, but are they an actual facet of me or just meaningless hashtags I add to my fucking Instagram posts along with #chickswholift and #chickswithtattoos?
I guess that we only become the person we want to be seen as by consistently displaying the qualities that we want to define us. Rather than stressing over whether I’m perceived the way I want I should just get the fuck out of my head and keep moving forward with courage, with discipline, and as the most authentic fucking version of myself possible. Whether I see tangible success or not on the platform, at work, or in my relationships, my actions must reflect these values to the point that there are no fucking question marks.
