I work with people from highly stigmatized populations. We work to correct thinking errors, like mind reading—they can tell everyone is judging. But not everyone in the world knows them, so not everyone in the whole world is judging. And, there will likely be a few people who are willing to look past their histories and focus on the good. And everyone else?
“Fuck ‘em,” I say, therapeutically.
What? Fuck ‘em is not therapeutic? I beg to differ. Mel Robbins has a whole book on “Let Them,” which is basically “Fuck ‘em” dressed in workplace casual.
It’s super easy to wholeheartedly see good in people, and also provide several evidence-based nuggets on what’s what. As effortless as, say, not applying that advice to yourself. Even if you’re an experienced professional and have several letters after your name. It’s me. I’m that professional.
Since getting fired, I worry about my former colleagues, because I can read their minds. They’re judging me with pity and distain. But, their opinion of me exists only in my head. They’re not even actually thinking of me. I should take my own advice and say, “fuck ‘em,” but I’m the fucked up one.
The thing no one tells you about mental health professionals is that we’re human. Remember when you realized your parents were human? So disappointing. There are very few of us that have all our shit together all the time and depending on the day our shit can be really scattered about. Unfortunate, because you probably want a therapist who has her shit under control.
I talk a lot about what I believe without actually believing anything applies to me. If you’ve ever told someone that of course they should take medication, and that medication for psychiatric symptoms is no different than any other medication, while at the same time thinking that if you took medication, you’d be weak…you know what I’m talking about.
If you’ve ever told someone that they are worth more than the numbers on a scale while trying every diet known to man…yup…you and I are in the same boat, sister.
We walk around like we’re confident, competent professionals when in reality, a lot of us are just hoping no one finds out we’re frauds. Some days I’m on my game and I use actual techniques and have insight. Other days I try my hardest and just repeat some very good advice I heard that morning on a podcast. Or years ago from Oprah.
I told my wisest friend about the phantom judges in my head. My friend is also a therapist, but her shit is nicely piled up together. She said my job was likely too tied up in my identity. She’s not wrong. I thought I was doing well by having a life outside of work and having boundaries, but it turns out I had defined myself as a Director, and when that was taken away the only identity to replace it was Loser.
My wise friend asked if I would think less of her if she had a different job. “Of course not,” I said, “you’d still be amazing.” And I know (intellectually) that my friends didn’t think any less of me when I had no job, because I am not my job (or my weight). But emotionally, well, I don’t really believe it. The judges are so much louder than my self-talk.
I’m hoping you know by now that therapists are encouraged to do their own work, with their own professionals (or at least their own wise therapist friends). This is how we avoid passing our shit onto you. There is no therapy graduation, no awards ceremony. Just more and more insight. We walk you through your own muck with skills gained from cleaning up our own shit.
I would hate having a perfect therapist. I hope my clients do too. I tell myself all that matters is that I listen without judgment. And I hope, when you find a therapist, that you find one who can see you with more clarity than you can see yourself. Those judgy voices in your head?
Fuck ‘em.
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