I’m reading a novel. I’m always reading a novel, by the way, but this one is different than my usual diet of crime fiction, legal thrillers and anything by Stephen King.
It’s called “The Goldfinch” by Jane Tartt. It’s about a thirteen year old boy who loses his mother in a tragic accident and what happens to him in the days and weeks following her untimely death.
So far, I’m enjoying the book both for its good writing but also for how all of the characters deal with death.
My least favorite part of the novel, though, is how the boy, Theo, dismisses most of the help offered by well-meaning adults, especially the psychologist who he won’t talk to and the teacher who suggests journaling, yogic breathing, and expressing his emotions.
On the surface, I’m always bothered by novels, movies and tv shows that characterize therapy and therapists as ineffective, bothersome, geeks who are out-of-touch with the real needs of their clients. Perhaps writers have had bad therapists, but I am more inclined to believe that they might be bad (unwilling) clients, themselves. My therapists have often told me that I’m the rare bird – a client who works with them rather than against them.
I think there’s another level of annoyance working on me, too. Like the adults in Theo’s life, I am one of those well-meaning people who provide adolescents with tools and techniques to ease their anxiety, acknowledge emotions and process their thoughts and feelings in a safe space.
Therapy is not a quick fix. It takes a long time and it involves trust and vulnerability even though we may feel scared and anxious when we reveal our secret, inner life, scour the legacy of our parents and probe our addictions. It can be embarrassing when we reveal our imperfect, false selves.
Perhaps a tv show, movie or even a novel do not have the slow pace necessary to adequately describe the therapeutic experience. This may be why there are so few shows about quilting, too.
But there’s more.
I am still waiting for an actor or musician to thank their therapist at The Oscars or The Grammys. Almost all of them are supported by therapists, but it’s still bad form for folks to say, “Thank God for my therapist, Carl, who gets me through every week in this profession full of high-pressure, too much drinking & drugs, explosive egos and tortuous self-doubt.”
All of this said, I understand that talk therapy isn’t for everyone. Not every student or teacher we encounter identifies with our music or the tools we share. But I do wish that the media would be more even-handed and supportive of the therapeutic approach to emotional health. These are tough times and support is essential.
