Why You'll Never Feel "Healed"
The uncomfortable truth about personal growth.
What do you know about your therapist? Did you ask? Have they shared? Probably very little. And you probably didn’t ask, and they probably didn’t share. And if you did ask, maybe they responded with minimal information or, worse, a question, as we’re taught in school: Why do you want to know that? Or, How would me sharing this change your mind?
Boring. Ridiculous.
It’s boundaries practiced in such a rigid way that it’s ultimately beyond ironic, considering we, as therapists, are teachers of intimacy in many ways. Yet the therapy relationship is one in which we reveal very little about ourselves. On the one hand, that’s necessary for the relational dynamic and the healing nature of receiving care. But the rigidity around that level of disclosure isn’t necessary to preserve the integrity of the relationship.
So what happens instead is a level of idealization and assumption. We assume our therapists don’t have problems. They know things, so therefore they would never do—or struggle with—the things that “normal” people do. And if they do, many people make assumptions about their skill as a therapist or make ridiculous comments that begin with something like, “As a therapist, I’m surprised that...” or “You’re the therapist, shouldn’t you...”
This idea of mystery, assumption, and idealization is a microcosm of how we understand healing itself. It reflects how we understand our own problems, how we understand other people, and it’s an extension of many of our cultural values around emotion, trauma, and helping relationships. We all operate around the idea that information leads to change, healing, or even a cure. That if one works hard enough, studies enough, or knows enough, somewhere out there a life exists that is easier. A life that is all-knowing. That is the holy grail of it all.
This is what we see all over social media. You know you’re healed when... Manifest this just by thinking positive. Things got easier when... All the listicles telling us that we too can be healed if we only know the truth, set boundaries, choose ourselves, and never entertain a partner with limitations.
As if that version of life exists.
Shocker. It doesn’t.
Last night I had dinner with friends. It’s a group I love to death. During these hangs we all share what’s going on in our lives—but not in the I went to the store kind of way. We talk about childhood, current relationship struggles, dreams, grief, joy. We scream, we cry, we laugh. I love all of it.
As we were going around the table, a few people started talking down to themselves. It was on brand for them, but honestly it’s on brand for so many of us. They were talking about their capacity for growth, the speed with which they’re changing, the parts of their lives they still haven’t changed. Different versions of the same story: I'm not there yet. I'm behind. Everyone else seems more healed, more evolved, more "there" than they are—including our therapist, who is presumably the most healed of us all (because yes, we all have the same therapist... the drama of that to unpack later).
And I burst out laughing.
