I remember watching Louisville play Duke, in the Elite Eight, in 2013, when Kevin Ware jumped to block a shot.
I don’t remember if he blocked it.
I do remember his teammates crying and throwing up on the sideline. He suffered possibly the most unexpected open leg fracture in the history of sports.
I knew, as everyone else did, that he needed a doctor.
Maybe, probably, a few of them.
The logic was as simple as it gets: I can see your bones. I’m not supposed to be able to see your bones. You need a doctor.
I also imagine it was a universally agreed upon conclusion.
I hope someday it feels that straightforward with mental health, too.
For now, it doesn’t, and many people find themselves asking two questions:
- What is therapy?
- Do I need it?
If you’re asking one, or both, this is a great place to start.
What is therapy?
To this point in your life, you’ve solved problems.
Fridge leaking? Got it covered.
Car engine started squeaking? I’ll call the mechanic.
My foot turned so far sideways it looks like it’s auditioning for a horror movie? I think I’ll go to the hospital.
We are good at solving the problems we can see.
Mental health is just as ordinary, and the difference isn’t that it’s less real – it’s just less visible.
Your brain’s first job – one it takes very seriously – is to keep you safe and alive. From the moment you were born, it understood what you needed and found a way to get it.
Hungry babies cry until they get fed.
Some kids who excelled at sports got more attention from mom and dad.
Some kids who cry are yelled at, so they quit showing emotions.
Workaholics get bonuses and job security, so they keep burning out.
At each turn, each of those systems worked – for that person, in that time, for a specific reason.
But our world changes, constantly, and oftentimes our system doesn’t.
Hungry-crying worked as a baby but wasn’t a great look for you at eighteen.
Getting attention through sports was helpful, until you tore your ACL and couldn’t play anymore.
Shutting down your emotions felt like it worked as a kid, but at thirty-five it’s hard to keep relationships.
Working constantly helped you develop the security you wanted in early adulthood, but as your family has grown up around you – it’s robbed you of connection.
Therapy is the help we lean on when our system isn’t working for us anymore.
Sometimes that looks like depression, anxiety, addiction, or trouble keeping relationships.
Oftentimes, it’s simpler and shows up as irritability, numbness, feeling stuck, or a nagging sense life isn’t what it’s supposed to be.
You don’t ask a broken bone to set itself. You don’t ask your car to change its own oil. But you’ve probably spent a lifetime assuming the only way to improve your mental health is through your own silent force of will and effort.
It doesn’t have to be that way.
Therapists are trained to understand the complex systems inside us and to help us get them functioning in ways that promote our wellbeing.
Therapists aren’t kooks, shrinks, witch doctors, people telling you to cry, or professional parent-blamers.
They are just other humans trained to understand and help when these systems aren’t working.
Though every therapist has their own preferred theory (more on those in a later post), and their approaches may differ, I believe a lot of therapy tends to work like this:
- Develop an understanding of the system.
- Propose changes to the system.
- Test the changes.
- Repeat until independently successful.
- Fire your therapist (nicely).
A quick note about number 5: Some years ago, I gave up on Apple products. When every device I owned worked on the same charger except my phone, I realized Apple was constantly working to make sure I needed them.
Your therapist should do the opposite. A good therapist should help you in a way that makes them irrelevant. You bring goals to therapy; making themselves unnecessary should be theirs.
That’s also why, if you work with me, you’ll find I teach a lot in session and write a lot outside of it. I don’t hold any knowledge, ability, or skill that I won’t offer freely, in the hope that one day the community just won’t need me anymore.
Now, onto question number 2.
Do I need therapy?
The short answer is probably yes.
You don’t need a diagnosable disorder. You don’t need your world to be in flames.
The reality is life is hard. Growing up, you trained for sports, were educated, and trained for jobs. But we didn’t train, and probably weren’t taught, how to handle the unseen challenges of navigating life and carrying all the weight it hands us, well.
Could I be wrong? Definitely. But, if you’re asking the question, it’s at least worth finding out for yourself.
Nobody had to wonder if Kevin Ware needed help. Everyone could see it.
Most of what hurts us doesn’t show up to anyone else, so the journey has to start with you.
If you’re ready to ask the question out loud, I’m here. You can reach out below by requesting a consultation appointment, call/text at 913.359.8709, or send me an email at jonathon@albatrosskc.org.
Disclaimer: if you’re actively in crisis, please call or text 988 (the national Suicide & Crisis Lifeline), call 911, or visit your closest emergency room.