When I began working with clients I quickly realized that few have a clear sense of what therapy is; many have never ventured into a therapist's office before. Some have cobbled together a notion of what therapy might be like, their ideas (and apprehensions) often based on--heaven forbid--television and movies. I've been told, "I'm afraid you will think I'm like Bob Wiley" (Bill Murray's neeeedy character in the hilarious movie What About Bob). Others have conjured visions of lying on the Freudian couch describing preschool sexual fantasies. Well, sadly, Hollywood seldom portrays the modern therapist very accurately. This has always mystified me given the number of stars, producers, and screen writers who are in treatment themselves.
Have you ever noticed how much you don't notice? Most of us haven't noticed how much we don't notice. Not noticing is actually an important ability we have to screen out the non-essential input that constantly bombards us. Much peripheral stimulus is processed outside of our conscious awareness or simply dismissed in favor of attending to more important information we need to get us through the present moment. Imagine driving down the freeway having to actually attend to each of your thoughts: " I'm going 74, my mother is 74, oh look, that cloud looks like a buzzard, I wonder what a buzzard smells like, that semi is red, that Mercedes is going way too fast, but it probably doesn't feel as fast as it would in my Corolla, Mercedes is German, I'd like to go to Germany, Hitler was awful, I'm awful hungry for a cheeseburger, I need to change lanes, on Penny Lane there is a banker with a motor car, I'm going to turn on the radio, moving my arm now, reaching for the button, feel this crappy asphalt bouncing my car around, the sun is in my eyes, I love U2, wonder what Bono is doing right now, There's a Keebler semi, wish I had an E.L. Fudge cookie..." Whoa, TMI! Thank God for a brain that can screen, right?
However, defensively screening out useful and/or unpleasant input can also create problems like: "One six-pack a night is NOT a drinking problem, I can quit any time I choose" or, "Who's an emotionally detached, insensitive jerk? I told you I love you once and if I change my mind I'll let you know. You're the one with the problem." Change begins with awareness.
All of us live someplace--a neighborhood. We come and go from our house or apartment, whizzing in, whizzing out, going here, going there. We sort of assume we know what our neighborhood is like: the buildings, the houses, the streets, trees, bushes. But how much are we really missing. One evening my wife and I were taking a leisurely stroll--not a power walk--through our neighborhood and I began to notice things I hadn't noticed, all kinds of things: Interesting architecture, junk cleverly concealed in the neighbor's back yard, amazing rose bushes, garbage under roadside bushes, cracked sidewalks, that the annoying yapping dog that wakes me up at 6 a.m. is an ancient Chihuahua. I realized that I often whiz through life the same way, failing to notice, failing to be aware. It occurred to me, from my own experience, that therapy is a place to slow down, to stroll, and begin to notice; to notice important things we have missed and defensively screened out.
Therapy, then, can be likened to taking slow walks around your neighborhood--your life--and beginning to see what is really there and what is missing, what you want to keep, get rid of, change, improve, find healing and resolution for. A therapist, then, functions as a sort of guide--a co-explorer--who helps us slow down and see important details we've been missing or screening out, and to be with us while we try and make sense of them. Therapists are, in fact, trained to do this--we like it! So, get out of your car, put on some comfortable shoes, and let's take a walk.
Copyright John D. Deyo, M.A., LMFT 2009
