Card Shopping

You can buy a card for anything these days, can’t you?! A recent trip to my local greeting card shop revealed headline messages that included ‘welcoming your new pet’ and ‘thank you for taking care of my home whilst I was away’. But I was there looking for a card that did not exist - I was seeking a ‘to my therapist, sorry for your loss.’

You’d think in today’s increasingly analysed society there would whole range dedicated to this important relationship (because a relationship is exactly what it is when therapy works well).

But that the thing isn’t it, it is a relationship that remains closeted and hidden. One which people prefer never to mention on acknowledge. And so, it’s now apparently more acceptable to send a notelet acknowledging the arrival of a new budgie, or to thank a neighbour who put out your recycling than to express any sentiments towards someone for their situation despite it being a person that plays a significant (and importantly, most often, positive) role in your life.

But really the missing card is just the real-world manifestation of my inner wrangle over the last week. See, my therapist (I’ve bravely written the work twice now!) has suffered a significant bereavement and I’ve been muddled, discombobulated and confused as to what is the appropriate reaction and behaviour from me.

You see, outside the therapy room I consider myself a bereavement pro (more Tim Henman than Andy Murray – well practised but not always with great outcomes) and in fact my childhood loss of my father remains such a burden it forms a fair chunk of the “stuff” that took me to the therapy room in the first place.

And when it comes to other people’s losses, I think I’m often an asset as they navigate grief. I can support, empathise and importantly, reassure them that the myriad of feelings that they are experiencing is entirely OK and that they deserve to be heard and given the space to explore them. I can do this because it’s a role I assume readily. I’m able to give myself to the people I care about, able to support them and more than OK should they need things from me. I’ll admit I’m not so good at needing things from them (you see it’s right that I’m in therapy!)

But the relationship with a therapist is clearly entirely different. Whilst we connect well, managing laughs amongst the tough stuff I know my therapist needs nothing from me. I know he is getting the support he needs. I’m also well aware that I do ask things, and need things, of him and that I need to be able to continue doing that. So, I’m all at sea because my role here is different and it’s one I don’t think I’ve ever played before.

A therapeutic relationship is a complicated thing. One sided and imbalanced in many ways, But, when it comes down to it it’s 2 people in a room connecting a talking on the most equal and human level.

Because my therapist is of the humanistic persuasion, he’s not all ‘blank canvas’. I know a little bit about his world outside the therapy room but of course he’s professional and boundaried and so I’ve not been provided with a detailed family tree or a run down of the complexities of his personal and familial relationships. Of course, he has a pretty comprehensive view of the many component parts of my life, who the main players are and what roles they fulfil for me.

I also know that the importance of our relationship (because that’s what you have when therapy is working well) is hugely more significant part of my life than his. And the battle between that part of me that wants to take on my usual role, telling someone to take their time and put themselves first is in the wrestling ring with the vulnerable part of me that wants to ignore it all because I need him.

So, I’m trying to stop worrying that I’ll get it wrong and stop dismissing the more selfish feelings because we all have those (right…yeah?!)

And if you see me looking vague, bear in mind, I’m really just looking for the right card.