“I never thought I’d need to see someone like YOU,” is something I hear from time to time. They don’t expect to ever talk to a “shrink” and they swear they’re not “crazy” but alas, they have a hard time reconciling how they ended up on my couch.
People often seem perplexed and disappointed that, by their description, they’ve arrived at such a point of desperation that they need to consult with a professional. They were confident they could “handle it” on their own and couldn’t understand what went wrong. Yet only here, in our self-proclaimed progressive society, do we see the reliance on others as a shameful act. So for those who don’t necessarily believe in the power of counseling, it has taken a lot for them to pull together their courage and strip away their pride to see me.
Yet, as I’ve come to learn, listening is an art and gift that has healed over the ages and across many cultures. From etchings of hieroglyphics and those who interpreted them, to pastors’ laying of hands, curanderos’ use of herbs and natural elements, and the sweating out of emotional toxins in temazcals, there has always been some form of storytelling and intentional listening.
The art of listening is not an unusual or foreign practice, and in fact, the beauty of finding healing through someone’s readiness to carefully hold each of our wounds and tend to them, is in our very nature.