Member-only story
THE NARRATIVE ARC
You Don’t Need to Be a Hot Mess to Go to Therapy
A little insight goes a long way
I started going to therapy in my mid-twenties. My best friend, Barbara, thirteen years my senior, a therapist herself, told me I needed an ally. What do you mean? I thought I had plenty of those. I had a strong friend group of amazing women, and some excellent teachers.
Barbara explained that I needed a person that was just there for me, a one way street — only there for you, every time. Oh that. I never had that.
It was not a dark period when I started therapy. It was a difficult time, but it wasn’t a crisis. Not my crisis.
I was ambitious, but could not stay focused. My parents, at that time, could politely be described as unwell. They asked a lot of me - constantly. It took one session with my first young therapist to figure that one out. You can’t launch your dreams if your parents are using you as a life raft.
The idea of re-parenting myself gave me hope. I loved that term. Re-parenting. Parents teach you how to get from point A to point B.
I had loads of A. Plenty of ideas, a bit of talent, enough pizzazz to get my foot in many a door. But I would get lost, distracted by some family emergency, and never make it to B. This…
