Perhaps I was born a therapist. At the age of 5, my mother picked me up from kindergarten with another friend who we were driving home. My friend was upset, and when my mom asked what was wrong, he explained that there was a girl in our class who had been chasing him around on the playground trying to kiss him. I immediately told him that the girl did not actually want to kiss him, but rather enjoyed the power she had in being able to chase him. I encouraged him to just stand still and told him she would go away. My friend listened to me, and that situation was resolved.
I have been gifted with a certain type of “sight” – I see people and intuitively understand why they do what they do. As far back as my memory goes, I’ve been comforting others, helping people to understand their own feelings and behaviors, and offering support to those who are hurting or who feel unseen. In addition to this, I am a peace-maker. I would often find myself “translating” people’s emotional experiences to their friends or spouses so they could understand each other. Adults began consulting with me as a child because my advice worked.
But, I had to learn that comforting people in the moment didn’t bring long-term healing, nor did mediation alone resolve people’s relationship problems. I needed to help people heal from the inside-out. They needed to cultivate in their own lives what I offered them in the moment. They needed to be their own voice. They needed to be in touch with their own feelings, needs, and desires. They needed to bring their whole selves into the world and their relationships. And this is where I was challenged by my own story and struggles…
I may have been a therapist, but I didn’t know how to bring my own person into genuine relationship, and thus my personal life and relationships were deeply struggling as a result. I found myself living two lives – the therapist by day and addict by night. Outside of intimate relationship, I remained a successful, well-respected individual. But when I met my wife, I fell apart. Intimacy cannot exist inside a double-life and has no room for addictions – the two are mutually incompatible. Thus, pursuing marriage required me to find myself – to establish relationships that supported my person, and to distance myself from those that did not allow me to have personal boundaries. I stepped away from therapy for a season as I recognized my own need for growth and healing, and in learning to bring my person into relationship, I found deeper friendships and a joy and satisfaction I had never known.
I was created to exist – to have thoughts, ideas, feelings, and desires that are different from others, to love with abandon, and to be loved in return. Addiction hijacks our person, cuts us off from our feelings, and distorts our thinking; hence, finding myself was a long, grueling process. It required distinguishing my person from that of “the addict,” retraining my brain, and learning to identify and understand my own emotions, feelings, needs, and desires. But existing brought healing – and I returned to my practice as a therapist with a renewed passion to help others find their own voice and to walk with them on their journey towards wholeness.