5 Therapy Myths I'm Still Debunking

"Talking about problems just makes them worse"

My gut reaction to this is a judgmental retort of “Avoidance, huh? How’s that working for you?” But when I think about it a bit more, I actually agree with the observation that talking about our most painful problems can make us feel difficult emotions that we may not always want to feel. Maybe this is similar to the difference between rumination and processing; the former is a psychic merry-go-round that takes us nowhere while the latter is cathartic, progressive, and healing. Well, usually anyway. That said, there is a time and place for talking about problems. If we’re talking about our problems all day long, it probably won’t help us manage our mood or stress level very well. But if we set aside a bit of time periodically to intentionally reflect on our problems and our feelings about those problems, we can get a lot of clarity and grounding from that process. It’s just that we are not socialized to do this for ourselves. For many of my clients, therapy becomes a placeholder for this kind of reflection and the structure and expertise I provide help make that reflection deeper and more productive.

“My therapist should validate all my choices and behaviors”

Although therapy is most productive when the therapeutic relationship feels safe, that doesn’t mean a therapist can’t challenge or disagree with a client in a respectful way. (And those therapists who tend to play the “yes man” role across all their sessions and clients are likely in need of some re-evaluation of the purpose of therapy.) In life, when we care about someone, we might gently probe or offer a different perspective in order to help our loved one see there are perhaps other choices that are more beneficial. Similarly, when a therapist challenges a client in a gentle and respectful way, it’s a gesture of care. I understand that the expectation of therapy being a “safe space” feels at odds with the idea that it’s a place where someone who gets to know you very well may thrust you out of your comfort zone. The therapeutic relationship is thus like no other relationship we have in life. It’s really not like just talking to a supportive friend. We’re working together on you. From disagreement, rupture, challenges, pushes, there can come tremendous insight and growth. And, yes, the holy grail—change.

“If I have a disagreement with or I’m triggered by my therapist, I should stop seeing them”

One of the most beneficial milestones in therapy is to be able to repair a rupture with one’s therapist by talking about and through what happened and seeing if there can be some mutual recognition and understanding. When a person can get a bit more comfortable doing this in therapy, it becomes a powerful tool they can use in their personal relationships when needed. In therapy, we think of the therapeutic relationship as a lab for other relationships, where one can experiment with vulnerability, courage, and radical honesty. For instance, if a client initiates a discussion with their therapist about a comment that hurt them in a previous session, they go through the verbal and emotional steps of bringing up a problem and talking through it, which serves as useful practice for issues they may want to address with their spouse or a family member.

“Therapy is just venting to someone who gets paid to listen”

While each therapist practices a bit differently depending on their training, theoretical orientation, interpersonal style, and values, listening is just one part of the craft of therapy. On second thought though, there is great value in simply being heard. What is bad about having someone listen to you with emotional presence and positive regard? I think this sentiment is also tied to how people view money and paying others for services that they would like to believe they should never want or need. (More on this in the next myth.)

"Going to therapy means you're weak because you shouldn’t need it"

This one hurts my heart a little because it reveals that sometimes even as people reach out to get professional help and enter therapy, they feel they are in some way defective for needing it. I guess this one is tougher to unpack because I’m not sure what it means to “not need therapy.” I suppose in an ideal world, we would not have a diagnosable mental health condition. But what does it mean to not “need” a professional helper to facilitate insight and resolutions for our most challenging personal problems? I’m not sure. It’s a difficult thing to imagine. Would I say it’s ideal to never need a doctor? Or a plumber? Or a mechanic? Or a hair stylist? Or an accountant? You see where I’m going here, right? This myth about therapy, perhaps more than the others, imagines a universe in which we have no needs at all because we are so so so strong. So un-needy. So needless. If a person like this exists, more power to them. I live in a different reality though, one in which people are hurting and there are ways to stop hurting. As Brené Brown taught us all those years ago, vulnerability is strength.