What is Counseling Really Like?

Based on what you know about counseling, how would you fill in the blank?

 

Counseling is like __________.

 

Maybe your answer is based on what you see in movies, a personal experience, or someone you know. 

 

Let’s also recognize, this is a loaded question. Everyone’s experience with counseling is different. Every session of counseling feels different. Some days you might say…

 

Counseling is like a war zone

Counseling is like a funeral

Counseling is like a vacation

Counseling is like a rollercoaster

Counseling is like an oasis

 

For some of us, just thinking about the answer to this question terrifies us. Our fill-in-the-blank answer keeps us from ever showing up. We want to avoid any pain, hurt, or feelings. We think it’s easier to continue living life numb. 

 

For some of us, we can’t get to counseling fast enough! Sign me up! Get me out of this house, away from these people, and into a neutral zone. Let me unleash all my unfiltered thoughts without judgy eyes rolling at me as those eyes walk back to the bedroom and slam the door. Whew! 

 

What if I told you…

Counseling is like piano lessons.

That’s right, piano lessons. 

 

Counseling seemed intimidating to me until I could relate it to a more familiar experience in life. This is the steadfast analogy I continually land on. Even on days when counseling seems like a battlefield, I can still relate my session to piano lessons.

 

I took piano lessons for fourteen years with the same teacher. Fourteen years of sitting week after week next to Mrs. Deanna Wilbur. Her chair pulled up next to the piano bench and her Sonic drink sitting on a coaster nearby.

 

As a little girl I had no clue walking into those lessons would be my foundational experience of counseling. I walked into Miss Deanna’s home, found my way to the rocking chair in the corner, and waited patiently for my appointment…I mean my lesson. 

 

Instead of a couch, I made my way to the piano bench and sat up straight. In counseling I make my way to the usual spot on the couch. Some days I sit straight and proper on one couch cushion. Other days I just own it and sit smack in the middle of all the cushions and pillows! 

 

I have my place. They have theirs. 

Back then, Miss Deanna had her place, seated in her chair pulled up next to the piano bench. Her Sonic drink within arms-reach on a coaster atop the piano.

 

Now, my Counselor has her place, seated across from me in a modern yet comfy chair. Her space heater within arms reach.

 

They start with asking me about good things.

Miss Deanna would ask me about good things from the week as she shuffled through my piano books looking for the one with scales to warm up my fingers, nails clacking on the keys. 

 

My counselor pulls out her notepad or tablet, smiles, and says, “Tell me some good things.” 

 

They both provide space for me to slow down and reflect on positive things to be celebrated. They both sensed my need for this practice. This habit. I naturally skip over the positives and head straight to the negatives. They’ve helped me rewire my thought patterns.

 

They gave me space to talk.

Miss Deanna would let me tell stories between playing songs. Sometimes I talked more than I played the piano for her. I was quiet by nature, so when I started talking I think she sensed I just needed space to process. 

 

My counselor might recap what we spoke about in the last session. She might ask about how an event or situation progressed. I do what I did in piano lessons. I talk. I talk openly and hear myself say things I would never say to anyone else. I speak with honesty and vulnerability. 

 

Both of them respond without judgment. 

Miss Deanna would nod her head and ask a question. She’d probe for more details, not to share with anyone else. More so to get me thinking. She’d ask me what I thought it would be like if I was the other person in the story, all while taking a moment to sip her cherry chocolate Diet Coke. 

 

My counselor sits cross-legged or curled up in her chair. She listens with her eyes, nods her head. Her words interrupted my thoughts. She also probes for more details. This time it’s a probing that causes me to give more language to what I’m feeling inside. It forces me to identify feelings, issues, or problems I normally run right over.

 

Both of them listen and repeat.

Back at the piano bench, I’d play another song for Miss Deanna. My fingers ran over the keys like my mind runs over my problems. Her pencil scratched out corrections showing where my fingers skipped right over important notes. Causally, she’d repeat what I previously said to her. This time my own words sounded new to me. 

 

Flash forward to today, I say something to my counselor curled up in her chair. My words show signs, revealing a behavioral or thought pattern burned into my brain. She scratches her observations onto her notes. Then she repeats my own words back to me. This time my brain unlocks a new perspective. 

 

I walk away with homework.

Back at the piano bench Miss Deanna scribbles in my little notebook the pages I’m supposed to practice for our next lesson. As I pack my books into my little two-strap canvas bag Miss Deanna gives me a parting piece of wisdom or some encouragement to get me through the life scenarios we talked about that day, on that piano bench.

 

In counseling, I can tell my time is almost up. My counselor scribbles final thoughts in her notes. She gives me a bite-size assignment to try until I see her again. It’s usually concrete, tangible, or something I can scribble in my journal. She gives me a parting piece of wisdom or encouragement. She helps me find a positive in all the unraveling confessions we talked about that day, on that couch. 

 

Counseling is like piano lessons because no matter what, I know I have a place there. I am seen and heard. I am challenged and changed. I simply show up lesson after lesson, session after session, just as I am. 

 

If you’re terrified of counseling. If you’re unsure what to expect. If you’re nervous about talking to a stranger. Think back to a time or place or person in your life who listened well. Who saw you. Who heard you. 

 

Maybe it was your football coach, choir teacher, or your friend’s mom who always drove you around to school events. Let that memory soak back into your bones. Let that memory move you forward to face the fear of showing up to counseling. 

 

I know the first few sessions with a new counselor, a stranger, will be uncomfortable. Some days your session will feel heavy, or exhausting. If you can land back on that statement,

 

Counseling is like _________. 

 

That memory might just be the key to carry you through to the next session. That session might just be the key to unlocking a new thought, a healthier pattern, a breath of life for you. 

 

If you cannot think of a single memory of someone like Miss Deanna, then please, feel free to borrow my memory of her. Close your eyes and imagine sitting on that bench. Her questions interrupt the clacking of fingernails on piano keys. The ease of her wisdom slows your thoughts down to think differently as she sips her Cherry Chocolate Diet Coke. She tells you, “Good job. Let’s try again next week” as she smiles and waves goodbye. 

Let’s not quit in fear. Let’s try counseling again.