On being there… a reflection
A dear friend of mine once asked me what I enjoy most about being a therapist. I had to pause to find an answer for myself, before sharing it with her. And when I did, I was surprised that what came up for me was different than the soundbite answer that I typically offer: “helping others!”
Perhaps it was because I paused to dig a little deeper. Or perhaps it was because I knew that she’d see right through any soundbite answer I may give her. Or maybe it was something else. Regardless, I was surprised by my answer.
I told her that I really appreciated how much I learn from my clients. How I hope that they too learn some things from our time together, because the things that I get to learn from them continue to push me to be a better human.
I was thinking of a young boy, who I met earlier in the week. At 8 years old, he has already been through a lot. And at the time, he has gotten to the point of hopelessness where he was no longer sure that there was much more he wanted out of life. I was hoping to help him find hope in what is to come in his life.
I had asked him, about the small things that make life slightly more bearable. More pleasant. And he said that it was the small moments where people are “there” for him. He paused for a moment following up with, “You know, when someone is really there, like with their whole bodies, and you can feel it?”
And I nodded, because I knew exactly what he meant. I knew because just earlier that day, I was on my phone while my younger brother was animatedly explaining something to me (that I of course no longer remembered).
I wondered if I had failed to be there for him, in the ways that my client described. I wondered if he’d think of me as someone who is there, when he may describe the same phenomenon to someone else one day. I also wondered if I was “there” for my client in that moment, or if he thought I was.
I smiled, soaking in every little crinkle on his face, and I asked him who in his life is “there” for him. And he said that his sister was. He paused for a beat, before he added, “Sometimes”.
And in that moment, I vowed to try to be there more for my brother, and family members. At least for a few more “sometimes”-es. I also hoped that I’d be “there” as a therapist. And as a friend. And as a human.
How are you there for your loved ones?