"Everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms- to choose one's attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one's own way."
-Viktor E. Frankl, Man's Search for Meaning
Often when I first tell people that I am a therapist, their initial response is to ask "Oh my GOD, are you analyzing me right now?!" This is a common question that many of us therapists are accustomed to answering, and have scripted responses for. I tend to cater my response to my audience, ranging from the straight forward, "No, I don't do that when I'm off shift," to the flippant "If you want me to analyze you, you're gonna have to pay me at least $150 an hour" (I actually picked that one up from a professor).
Once the person is comfortable, this question is generally followed by a string of inquiries that usually indicate the person's overall attitude toward mental health services, or their own personal experience with them. On a number of occasions I have been asked "Isn't that SUCH sad and heavy work? How do you NOT take that home with you?"
Although I understand where it comes from, I always find this question amusing. It's not to say that the work that therapists do is not, at times, sad and heavy. And I would be lying if I said that I NEVER take my work home with me. When you are working with people in just about any capacity, I'd say there is a strong likelihood that at some point you will take your work home with you (I am recalling seeing the best and worst of humanity while working as a server in a restaurant throughout college. There were certainly days where I took that work home with me as well).
The reason this question is amusing to me is because it misses the very essence of what I am so fortunate to call my life's work: the hope that is such a central part of what I do. Many people- not all, but many- come to therapy because they are suffering, and they want to feel better. Those that do not come for that reason often discover it once they are invested. And it is our job as therapists to help clients become invested when they are not, and to find the hope when it has been lost.
It is an immense privilege to witness a person who has lost hope find it again. I have had clients tell me that therapy is their church, a place of spirituality and safety. I find comments like these incredibly moving, and I take these experiences with me when I go home just as often as I take the tough stuff. Yes, it takes tolerating the heaviness of pain in order to get to that place- and sometimes we never do- but when hope is restored, it is one of the most beautiful and moving experiences in life.
The alcoholic who gets clean, the mother who reunites with her child, the young woman who overcomes an eating disorder- these are the experiences that keep us doing what we do. It is incredibly humbling on days where your own life feels less than desirable to watch others bravely face their biggest challenges. I have often thought to myself, if they can do it, so can I. I am constantly inspired by this work.
And so, I answer that question here with a smile: "Yes, it can be sad & heavy work, and sometimes I DO take it home with me. And I am so, SO grateful to be able to do it."
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