Difference In Perspective
II think there are a lot of times as therapists we try to sell you on the idea that there is only one way to do therapy. It's this image we have from streaming and movies of a therapist sitting in a chair across from a client while a back and forth dialogue persist. But what if, just like us, therapy comes in many shapes and sizes?
By definition, therapy is an intervention that is meant to help treat or heal a disorder. One of the first tasks of therapy is accessing awareness; sometimes that is awareness of an issue or a solution but in trauma work it is most often embodiment awareness. This type of awareness allows us to understand the emotions and physical sensations that occur within the body and their connection.
As this awareness grows, so does our ability to recognize healing in its many forms. Suddenly, feeling the warmth of the sun on our face, resonating with the life in our breath, or engaging in a Sunday afternoon dance party brings along with it, an awareness of catharsis and a sense of safety. Even something as simple as a song can hold healing significance.
When I was young the word crazy was a commonly used adjective for me and not in the fun and wild way it tends to be used as now. I was a neurodivergent kid that grew up in trauma. Crazy was just one of many words used to “other” me and it was a way for people to label something they did not understand.
Once my mother became a single parent, my frequent desire to speak out against the environment in our home became something too difficult for her to control. What was easy for her was sending me away. I was a hopeless teen living in a world of pre-trauma understanding. My increasing desire to end my life made it easy for her to place me in short-term institutional stays while no one was interested in addressing the environment that was causing the hopelessness. Fast forward more than 20 years and lots of healing later, that same hopeless teen that everyone so impetuously called “crazy” has evolved.
Hearing Miley Cyrus’s new single I Used to be Crazy awhile back brought me an intersection of this embodiment of safety and a chance to reclaim a word that was onced used as a source of pain. Being so young and not being given the support I needed to heal at that time, I can see how labeling me as crazy was just the simpler thing to do. However, the pain of that word stuck to me for a long time and when I heard it again through the melodious notes of Miley, those same feelings of being misunderstood would come flooding back. Once word was able to remind my nervous system of a similar time when that safety was not so clear. There were times that I thought it was easier if I was the one controlling the narrative and so I would project the wild persona. This served two purposes: one was to feel I had some sense over my presentation of “crazy” but the other was to numb the pain I was still feeling from the trauma that caused all of this in the first place.
The lyrics go something like this, “I know I used to be crazy, I know I used to be fun, you say I used to be wild, but I say I used to be young.” Now as an adult, I have had the time and space to create the supports for myself that I was never given when I was young. I know more now. I have more insight and awareness. I am no longer young.
As I listen to this song, I am able to move through this sympathetic response and into parasympathetic ventral vagal state. This is a process that has taken time and practice to accomplish and as I sense safety, I become aware of the feelings of compassion that arise in my body. Tears start to form as a part of me is comforted at the recognition that I was young and I am allowed to offer my young self grace for that time. I quietly speak to that part of me and tell her that she is safe. I move my hand to my heart and allow the feeling of compassion to overtake me and extend to that hopeless teen. And as the song ends, I open my eyes and feel that part of me offering gratitude back and I recognize that it is ok to be young.
