For a long time, the field of social work stood up river—battling the systemic forces that were throwing people over the edge—while the field of psychotherapy tried to support those being swept away by the current.

And while both fields still maintain different educational streams and primary core values, a broad overlap is occurring between the two domains that can feel conflicting at times depending on your area of interest and calling.

Both of these issues matter.
Both of these issues are relevant.
Both of these issues need addressing.

But I also don’t believe that all mental health professionals can, or should be expected to do both at the same time. That being said, I faced a lot of criticism during my education for not focusing more of my attention on the larger systemic issues at play. Ironically enough, it left me battling a different kind of system in order to remain aligned with my own values.

I always knew, coming into the field, that I wanted to help those already in the river. Not because I don’t care about the systems that are causing people to drown, but rather, because I am a by-product of those very systems.

Most of us are in a some capacity or another. Some of us benefit from them. Some of us drown from them. Most of us experience both, sometimes in ways that we don’t even realize.

At the end of the day though, when I was growing up and being thrown into the river, I didn’t know how to stop the forces that made treading water necessary. The only thing I knew how to do was save myself.

And that wasn’t nothing. Because saving myself meant that I could then hold a hand out and help someone else to save themselves.

So, when my professor asked me one day why I chose a specific therapeutic approach in the face of our current social climate, I was more than ready to stand tall in defense of my beliefs…

“Because I strongly believe that the more we face the war within ourselves, the less we feel the need to wage war upon others.”

He smiled and nodded with quiet appreciation, then encouraged me to keep walking my path.

So, if you need me, just follow the current…

I’ll be there, blanket in hand, standing at the edge of the river.

The post River. appeared first on Echo & Origin Psychotherapy | The Blog.

Those moments when you are wearing too many masks.

Those moments when you are stepping outside of your values.

Those moments when you are reminded of how the fragility and strength of being human is a constant balancing act.

I had this professor once who used to talk about self-gaslighting, which was a term I had never heard before. It means to talk ourselves out of our own feelings, to diminish our own circumstances, to minimize our own struggles.

Sometimes we do it out of necessity, in order to help us cope with a situation that doesn’t include an exit sign. Sometimes we do it because we’ve grown up with other people minimizing our feelings for us. But much of the time, we do it to help ourselves believe that, if the circumstances we’re facing aren’t that bad, then finding the path back to ourselves can’t be that bad either.

Unfortunately, in a society that nurtures comparative suffering, self-gaslighting can start to feel like a basic requirement of life.

“My stress level isn’t that bad.”
“My relationship with my body isn’t that bad.”
“My sadness isn’t that bad.”

I find myself holding an acute awareness around this form of abandonment these days, because it’s in the diminishing that we slowly start to lose ourselves.

Until, pretty soon, these pieces of life that seemed so small become the only things we start to know.

Because I believe that the world can be a loud and confusing place sometimes, filled with constructs and expectations that make it hard to know where society ends and we begin.

As a humanistic psychotherapist, I believe in our natural inclination to gravitate towards our center of integrity. I believe that, when we quiet the external voices screaming around us, we inherently know what our souls need in order to feel whole. I believe that we know when we are moving through life with a sense of alignment.

Which means that I also believe in the strength that comes with simply acknowledging that we have limits, then choosing to honour those limits with grace and respect.

Our physical limits.
Our emotional limits.
Our relational limits.

I say all of this as a woman who is often being humbled by her own limitations as a human being. I say this as someone who still needs to re-align herself with her own sense of integrity. I say this as someone who also has to be honest about what I’ve diminished in the name of not wanting to drift too far away from myself.

I say this as a woman who knows that it’s all a lot easier said than done sometimes.

But I also say this as someone who believes that the path is always within reach and that our internal compass is always pointing in the direction we need to go.

And I say this as someone who believes that, sometimes, the best way to move forward, is by taking a moment to simply stand still.

The post Still. appeared first on Echo & Origin Psychotherapy | The Blog.

I told her that she was unloveable. I told her that she was inadequate. I told her that she was ugly.

I told her that she should be ashamed of herself for the dimpled skin on her legs and the size of her waist.

I told her that the only thing other people noticed was that her hips were too wide and her boobs were too small.

I told her how embarrassed she should feel for the wrinkles on her face and the grey in her hair.

I told her that she should try harder and run farther and dig deeper.

I told her that she was a disappointment.

I looked a woman straight in the eyes and told her that she wasn’t beautiful anymore because of all the ways that her body had changed.

I beat her down with my words. I bruised her with my thoughts. I wounded her with my lies.

I abused a human being.

And if you have ever uttered similar thoughts to yourself at any point in time, then you have too.

Please read the words I’m about to write very carefully. And please know that I am writing them down just as much for myself as I am for anyone else who might need to see them…

Words are not any less abusive just because we only say them to ourselves.

Read that again.

Now let them to seep into your pores and let them course through your veins.

Because it’s not okay.

And I know this. But I also say this as a person who has spent most of her life at war with the wrong enemy.

Fighting her body. Judging her reflection. Rejecting her image.

I say this as a person who, not that long ago, struggled to look at herself in the mirror.

So, for the love of all that is good in this world…

Let’s not.

Let’s not be the poison we would never let someone else ingest. Let’s not be the relationship we would never let someone else endure. Let’s not be the weapon we would never let someone else use.

And let’s not believe—for a single second—that our words only have power if we use them on someone else.

The post Power. appeared first on Echo & Origin Psychotherapy | The Blog.

We didn’t talk about the sadness that lurked in the corners.
We didn’t talk about the addiction that was ripping us apart.
We didn’t talk about the pain that was becoming larger than life.

And I thought this was “normal.” So I navigated my early years in silence, learning how to process and metabolize all the things that were never given a voice.

In my parents’ defense, they didn’t grow up talking about the hard things either.

And I get it.

Sometimes those conversations are scary and vulnerable and come with great risk.

But I can confidently say that it was a life spent in the trenches of the unspoken that led me towards a career in story, truth, and making room for the things that need to be said.

Because, sometimes, those conversations can also set us free.

I have been humbled as a psychotherapist to hold space for so many stories. To bear witness to the hard feelings and to create safety for the ache that lives within.

And here’s what I’ve come to learn…

There is just so much that we don’t say.

We don’t talk about how lonely it can feel as an adult.
We don’t talk about how isolating it can be to worry about our kids.
We don’t talk about how deeply sadness can consume our hearts.
We don’t talk about how much we miss each other and think about each other and want to reach out to each other.
We don’t talk about how disconnected we can become in the name of meeting the world’s expectations.
We don’t talk about our longing and our disappointment and our grief.

But it doesn’t have to be that way.

We can say the hard things out loud and allow them to linger in the air between us. We can be honest about what hurts and let the truth live outside of us. We can allow the words to be real and watch the vulnerability change us.

There is just so much that we don’t talk about.

But we can.

May we find our voice.
May we speak our story.
May we say our truth.

The post Words. appeared first on Echo & Origin Psychotherapy | The Blog.