Being a therapist is a unique profession.
It certainly is it’s own subculture.
Words like “processing” and “awareness” take on whole new meanings.
We are taught and trained to get into people’s minds and identify issues that drive behaviors and perceptions and then help guide the person into healing themselves.
It’s never about giving good advice.
It’s both a science and an art.
Some of us are better than others.
Some therapists have a natural talent, they were born for this role.
Others work hard at it and struggle to relate.
Most of us went into the field because of our own issues.
The best of us are the ones that have dealt with or continue to work on those issues.
I was born a listener.
I observe my world before I interact with it.
Because I am constantly observing, I read people well.
Sometimes I feel like a mind reader.
If I wanted to, I could easily manipulate someone.
Morality prevents me from doing so.
I have a knack for seeing past the façade a person puts up and into their driving force.
The core of a person.
Their good qualities.
And their insecurities.
That is why I’m so good with the kids I work with.
That’s also why I put up with a lot of assholes.
Because I often see past their assholery and into what’s behind it.
I don’t try to change them, instead I try to understand and challenge it in my own gentle way.
I also have a knack for getting under “difficult” people’s skin.
They melt under my softness, even if they don’t realize it’s happening.
But I do.
And I secretly smile about it.
People inherently trust me.
Most find me soothing.
I know secrets.
Lots of them.
I am told things that would horrify, shock, scare, and sadden most people.
Usually I don’t even blink.
Some things, though, are harder to hear than others.
Especially coming from the mouths of children.
I develop unique relationships with people I would never otherwise talk to.
But it’s a one sided relationship.
I know about them, they know very little about me.
What they don’t know is that I’ve been in their shoes.
That sometimes I still am.
And even though I look and sound like I have it all together, I rarely do.
I’m struggling just like everyone else.
Except that I’m aware of it.
And I’m good at what I do.