Is therapy worth it?
To kick us off, here's a question we all ask when we first go into therapy, whether we say it out loud or not.
Welcome to the first proper edition of ‘Questions you’d probably ask a therapist’. I’m glad you’re here. Sit down, and tell me about your childhood.
We’re kicking off at what I consider to be a logical starting point, the bit before you’ve started doing therapy, aren’t even sure you want to or whether there’s any point in any case.
Aside from my personal experience of receiving this question countless times over the years, I know it’s common because, you know how you can write a couple of words into Google and it guesses the rest of the sentence (like an annoying smart arse)? Well, I wrote, ‘Is therapy..’ and it’s third guess was ‘worth it?’ The first two suggestions were ‘free in the UK’ and ‘tax deductible’ which proves only that people who want to do therapy suspect it isn’t good value for money which, when you think about, is exactly the same as asking, ‘Is therapy worth it?’ because, if you knew it would be beneficial and you had the money, you’d almost certainly pay.
Incidentally, for reasons best known to my unconscious, I also typed in, ‘Will my therapist..’ and Google guessed, ‘give up on me?’ which will definitely be a topic of a future post, not least because I’ve had countless clients who’ve feared just that. (PS. I’d never give up on you, I hope you know that).
Anyway, let’s go
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Question: Is therapy worth it and, if so, how will I know?
Here’s the hot take. If you’re already asking yourself this question, the answer is ‘yes’.
Whenever someone reaches the point where they openly acknowledge thoughts about seeing a therapist, I always tell them that it’s almost certainly a sign they will benefit from doing so.
Think about it this way.
Imagine having a stone in your shoe that was bearable when you took each step but uncomfortable enough to be annoying.
The longer you keep walking without taking off your shoe and shaking out the stone the more gradually two things occur simultaneously.
First, your tolerance towards the annoying stone increases.
Second, your consciousness of how much the stone is disrupting your comfort becomes unclear.
While the stone might be gradually less intrusive, the damage it is doing stays the same or worsens until you’re wandering about with a pit in the sole of your foot.
One client wrote to me, ‘I never could push myself to go to therapy it as I don't know if it will help or is worth my time.’
There is a paradox here because, although these words suggest a desire to help oneself through the protection of ones time, the inference is that they are unworthy of spending the time they'd need to invest to recover from whatever spurred the thought of therapy in the first place.
How do you feel about yourself? How important are you and what value do you place on your own feelings of wellbeing?
If you can unequivocally answer all of these questions in a way that demonstrates you are your priority and you have things on your mind that you feel unable to share with those around you, for whatever reason, you’d probably give therapy a go, wouldn't you? After all, what do you have to lose?
Another client wrote, ‘I don't know if it is worth your time even.’
This is not for you to decide. I make that choice because I’m a grown up, but it is also another way of expressing a doubt about one’s own value. If you worry about wasting my time, even when you’re paying me for it, doesn’t that suggest you might fear some level of judgement that your troubles are ‘unworthy’ of therapy and, if so, what does that say about how much you matter?
Clients sometimes doubt that therapeutic care is genuine and therefore diminished and they might observe this by saying, ‘Yes, but you’re getting paid to care about me.’ This is a ‘projection.’ That is to say, rather than something true of me it is probably more true of you. Maybe you doubt that a stranger can be invested enough in your wellbeing to make it worth everyone's time because you are not invested enough in yourself.
Let's consider for a moment the nature of the therapeutic relationship, the uniqueness of which you may have overlooked.
Where else in life can you spend time with another person who has no expectation other than you showing up on time? Where else can there be two of you in a conversation in which only one of you is the subject of interest ? How easy is it to place yourself somewhere you can be your true self (if you can develop the courage to be) without judgment?
If you think this type of relationship exists elsewhere in your life, try repeatedly using the phrase, ‘Yes, but can we just talk about me,’ the next time you’re with whoever it is you have in mind.
Part of what makes therapy useful, unique and valuable is that it creates a relationship like no other you can ever have in your life.
Another person struggling with the ‘Is therapy worth it?’ question once told me, ‘I just can't help but think there is nothing wrong with me and that I am just built differently from other people and maybe that's okay.’
This statement is, of course, absolutely true but is it only people who have ‘something wrong’ who need help and support?
Take neurodiversity. Developmental disorders are not deficits - people with autism or ADHD do not have something ‘wrong’ with them other than through a societal lens that declares a particular definition of ‘normal’, but they do often find it hard to navigate the expectations of a neurotypical world. Therapy is a perfectly legitimate resource to turn toward in order to access that support.
Grief resulting from bereavement is not a ‘problem’ that needs to be ‘fixed’ but it is frequently a period of time through which it’s helpful to have someone otherwise uninvolved to talk to, especially in that awful space after the funeral when everyone else’s life seems to have returned to normal and yours feels permanently tilted precariously on its axis.
People come to therapy when they are in crisis but they also come when they are not.
Do you only go to the gym when you are unfit and stop going once you get into shape?
Is your emotional wellbeing less important than your physical body?
There is no reason to enter therapy that is not good enough. If it’s hurting you, you’re deserving of help with it.
To your question, ‘Is it worth seeing a therapist?’
Yes, but it isn't any use my telling you this. You need to decide for yourself and it's OK if you still haven't made up your mind. We'll still be here when and if you feel ready. There’s no rush.
I've had clients who worry, ‘I don't know if I could communicate how I feel or have enough courage to speak my truth, so I'm just worried that I won't benefit from it.
Therapists are used to all these fears in our clients, we have had them ourselves, and they appear far more regularly than you might imagine.
Often, when I sit down with someone for the first time, I might say,
‘What would you like to get from our work together?’ or ‘What brought to therapy?’
They might look at me blankly and say,
‘I don't know.’
By then, we have already begun.
Exploring together what brings someone to this point, perhaps in a way that makes no sense in the moment but creates more clarity over time. Darting back and forth between past, present and future, discovering, making connections, and sometimes sitting in a silence that becomes gradually less awkward as we both listen to the gentle hiss of a radiator or a blackbird outside the window as everything, for a while, slows down.
In the words of Calvin & Hobbes, ‘Day by day nothing seems to change but pretty soon everything is different.’
For you, therapy may be of no use, but it also might be, and it could be life-changing.
The only way you will ever know for sure is by finding out for yourself.