LET’S TALK THERAPY
It was my third or fourth session with my counselor. I had recently entered into my first “grown up” relationship after being single for seven years. I struggled with building trust, partly due to my partner's character and partly because of my own internal battles. I made a remark, likely about him cheating or the relationship ending in heartbreak, and my counselor chuckled softly to herself. It caught me off guard because being cheated on isn’t funny, and to my knowledge, I hadn’t said anything humorous. I fell silent as she scribbled in her notepad. Then she looked up and asked, “In all the scenarios you make up about your life, do any of them work out for you?” I laughed this time, and she grew silent. The answer was an obvious no—I didn’t have to say it, and neither did she. After just four sessions of discussing writing or school or love, she had discovered that in every situation I imagined, I was the butt of the joke. I was always the one who got the short end of the stick. It didn’t matter what the reality of the situation was, the tangible evidence in front of me, logic, or reason. If it was up to me—and it was, because they were my thoughts—I was always at a loss or deficit. I was never chosen or deserving. I was overlooked, not enough, not prepared, just wrong. In this session, and many after, we discussed cognitive distortions, rational and irrational thoughts, rules and assumptions, and core beliefs.
THE FAKE SCENARIOS I CREATED IN MY MIND WERE FUELED BY MY NEGATIVE BELIEFS ABOUT MYSELF, OTHERS, AND THE WORLD.
A lot of my beliefs about myself were formed when I was young and had limited ability to reason. When a boy I liked in kindergarten preferred my friend over me, I considered what separated us. She was light-skinned, and I was brown-skinned. She was skinny, and I was a little solid. She had perfect teeth, and I had a gap. At that point, I decided I wasn’t pretty enough. When girls would randomly stop being my friend in elementary school, I decided that to be liked, I had to be exactly what others wanted. When I was bullied at every school I attended, I concluded there was something inherently wrong with me. Year after year, I made connections or assumptions based on my experiences, ultimately building the framework for how I navigated relationships and situations for most of my life.
For the past few weeks, I have been reflecting on belief systems and identifying their components because it is SO IMPORTANT. If I believe everyone is out to get me, how does that impact how I navigate life? If I believe nobody cares about me, how will that impact the relationships I choose? If I believe everything will work out for me, how will I go through hard times? Each belief, good or bad, brings about a skill, rule, or code of life to live by. Each skill developed or rule made dictates the level to which we can enjoy or despise life.
THE SKILLS I DEVELOPED TO KEEP MYSELF SAFE IN ONE SEASON were harmful to me in my next season.
I learned very early that I was just a bit softer than everyone else. Things that were meant to roll off usually stuck; moments and people who were just supposed to be visiting managed to make lifetime imprints on me. I’m just soft—there’s no other way to say it. Navigating relationships with a keeness for softness wasn’t easy growing up, and it’s still challenging as an adult, though I am a bit more courageous. Nevertheless, the skills I developed to navigate friendships and romantic relationships in one stage of my life were becoming burdensome in the next. For example, people-pleasing to avoid bullying kept me safe at a time. But, as an adult, people-pleasing makes me feel suffocated or like I am betraying myself. So, in one season, people-pleasing kept me safe from perceived harm, but today, it causes internal strife. Another example: in a past relationship, my partner’s actions and words didn’t align. It required mental gymnastics or hyper-vigilance to understand his meaning or intention. When my husband and I were dating, my investigation of him and his words translated to distrust. In one relationship, investigation was a tool for safety and clarity. In my current relationship, a barrier to closeness. Just like we can outgrow people or situations, we can also outgrow certain tools or skills learned. I learned and accepted that I am not at fault because my experiences impacted me. As a conscious human being, I am consistently affected by what is happening around me. I had to forgive myself for what I collected along my path, I had to forgive myself for what I did to keep myself safe, I just had to forgive myself for being who I thought I needed to be. Also, forgiving myself did not then, and does not now mean avoiding responsibility. I chose those friends, I chose those partners, I pursued certain jobs and set specific goals, and I had to ask myself why. It wasn’t enough to forgive myself. I also needed to figure out what made me continuously hurt myself.
PERCEPTIONS RULED BY FAULTY BELIEFS ULTIMATELY CONTROL YOUR REALITY.
We’ve all heard the phrase "our perceptions become our reality." My therapist told me this first, and then I found myself saying it to most of my clients. The way we retrieve and understand information is greatly impacted by our perceptions. I’ve known easily offended people, super optimistic people, self-centered people, etc. No matter the archetype, each person is ruled by their perceptions, which are informed by their experiences and are a direct result of their beliefs. Our perceptions dictate so much of our lives—what we accept, what we reject, what wounds us, and what builds us up.
One of my biggest insecurities has always been my intellect. I find myself incredibly sharp and able to formulate coherent thoughts and ideas, but I have always struggled with feeling like an idiot. That insecurity colors the lens I use in conversations and relationships with others. It dictates who I choose to be in relationships with and who I avoid. If my belief is that I am stupid, regardless of the other person’s intent or meaning, my insecurity impacts my perception, which then affects the way I understand and accept what is happening in front of me. It isn’t to say that people around me can’t be condescending or belittling or rude, but just like me, they are operating from their perceptions fueled by their beliefs.
It was a humbling experience to realize that very little is about me. Like many people, I am often too consumed and overwhelmed by my own experiences to consider anything else. Decentering myself and my experience from situations and people gave me unexplainable freedom. If everyone, just like me, is projecting their inner world externally, then nothing they do to me is a reflection of me, and nothing they do is actually about me. I can have grace and space instead of offense. I can choose what I collect and what I leave behind. My beliefs about others, myself, and the world are mine to adjust and define based on what is in front of me today—the truth of my life today.
I know this post was just supposed to be about therapy, but the truth of my life, your life, life in general, is Jesus Christ. Building a foundation on any other truth will always leave us disappointed.
