WHAT DOES THERAPY LOOK LIKE?

These are some quick sketches I made while thinking about the process of therapy.

I come with a problem. It’s a heavy boulder I have been carrying around with me. Sometimes I know what it is. Sometimes I don’t.

You can tell I am kind of lumpy, not very defined.

The boulder or egg gets heavier. It begins to crack.

I am holding onto it and maybe putting it down. I am beginning to see what is ins

ide.

My shoulders are held high, but I am getting longer and more fluid.

It cracks apart. The contents spill out. They smell. It’s messy.

I am more defined, but also not quite here. You can tell because although I look curious, I am also see through.

The mess sorts out into different parts that I can pick up and feel. They are part of a common stream. They have sharp edges and can hurt.

I am clearly more engaged with the process and still not solid. I am looking, but not feeling.

Sometimes it makes me feel like I am fragile and cracking. I can do this because I know I am held and kept safe within the container of therapy. I feel seen with compassion and kindness which makes it possible for me to feel and see the hard parts. I begin to have compassion for these parts of myself that hurt.

I am holding my cracking self in my lap, surrounding this part of myself with love and support for my own being. I am solid and fragmenting at the same time.

I am learning to hold myself with care and kindness. Here I am held in my own darkness, in my own egg. Held in my own arms, my own hand. Held by the container of the therapy time and space and witness. Held in the hand of Spirit greater than me. Held until I am ready to move.

And here I am. Standing. Finding my boundaries and my being between sky and earth. I feel strings of attachment to my past, to my present, to my truth.