She knows me better than I know myself. She knows more about me than any other person on the planet does. It's the most intimate relationship I'll ever have with anyone.
Even if you're married or have been connected with someone for a long time, there's chunks of yourself you'll never talk about, or explain or share with anyone else, no matter how honest you think you are.
We all carry secrets around inside of us. Every person on earth does. It's what makes us human and keeps us alive and engaged with those we love and those we share friendships with. Many times, we don't even know what these secrets are. Only by talking with someone, someone who is not a friend or a lover, will these secrets ever reveal themselves to you or to
The best way I can describe a psychotherapist is that they're a neutral individual. They have no interest in engaging with you physically or emotionally. They're not a friend or lover. They're not judgmental or critical. They don't tell you you're right or wrong. They don't talk about you with anyone else unless you present an immediate danger to either yourself or the world you live in.
There are secrets and confidences that bubble up inside of me when my psychotherapist and I sit down for a chat. I never know what I'm going to say. I don't round up my thoughts or carry them around with me like a grocery list. I sit outside her door and think about the sun or the snow or what I've done that day. I might be in a good mood or struggling to free myself from a dark corner inside my mind.
Once inside her office, I'll sit down on her couch while she swivels in her chair to face me. She'll ask me how I am or what's happening in my life. I might answer by saying nothing or unloading every frustration that's been building up inside of me for the past week, frustrations that even I wasn't aware of. I can speak freely, using any words I choose to express myself. She's not offended nor taken back by what I say. She adds to the conversation, not by criticizing, but by offering suggestions to guide me along. She remembers more about my past than I do, reminding me of events I've encountered or circumstances I've had to contend with that have hurt me or had made me happy. It's as if my life experiences were engraved into her mind. She reminds me about things I've said or done, things that I'd completely forgotten I'd told her. She brings my conversation to life, encouraging me to say more, allowing me to reflect on my victories instead of dwelling on my perceived failures.
I admit to you that I'm just as much a mental mess as anyone else is; that I'm not immune to the emotional and psychological curve balls thrown at us from out of nowhere by this life we live. If you need to talk to somebody, somebody who'll listen to who you really are instead of who you're pretending to be, see a psychotherapist and talk to them. You'll learn more about yourself than you ever knew before.