3 Lessons I've Learned from My Christian Counselor

When I first started counseling, I was petrified. I had no idea who this stranger was, what kind of advice they'd give me, and how they would react to what I would share. How could I trust him? After giving it a try, however, I began to settle in and trust the process. I trusted that God had led me to this particular counselor and that He would work through him. 

About two weeks into our sessions, I asked my counselor how long he thought I might need to come to weekly sessions. You see, I was very busy and had a lot of things to do, so I wanted to communicate that well. His response has never left me:

"Your mental health recovery is a life-long journey, not a destination. I can't tell you how long you'll be in counseling because it just depends. But I suppose as long as it takes."

He was right. Healing, mental health, trauma, and tragedy take time to process. And we can't rush the process. Just as physical wounds take time to heal, repressed memories, emotions, and pain we've experienced will take time, too. Healing our mental health takes time. It's a long, tedious process of unpacking what we see and feel and how that impacts us and the world around us. 

Once I learned that counseling was going to be an "as long as it takes," process, I was able to invest in it better. I wasn't approaching every session with as much stress and pressure because I was giving myself room and space to heal. It didn't matter if I needed to talk about the same fears week after week because, in therapy, talking is healing. 

The quicker we learn to view healing our mental health and counseling as life-long pursuits and not destinations, the greater progress and healing we'll be able to achieve. 

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About six months to a year into my weekly counseling sessions, my counselor wanted to discuss trauma. "Trauma," I thought to myself. "I haven't been through trauma," I said, dismissing his questions. But both big and little "T" trauma matter. 

It wasn't until we started discussing my background and upbringing that I had, indeed, lived through and repressed much trauma in my life. It wasn't as large scale as some trauma presents itself (such as natural disasters, violent crimes/school shootings, serious car accidents, war, experiencing or witnessing violence, witnessing a death, sexual violence, being in combat zones, recurrent sexual or physical abuse, etc.). However, my trauma was just as valid. 

Did you know that "little 't'" trauma is defined as any event that's distressing and personal but doesn't necessarily threaten your physical safety? Examples of little t trauma could include bullying, financial difficulty, infidelity, chronic pain, psychological abuse, the death of a pet, losing a job, being rejected by a friend group, or going through a breakup, to name a few. 

In the case of my trauma, I landed somewhere in the middle. I grew up witnessing often extreme cases of physical abuse and violence and was a victim of mental and verbal abuse myself. I witnessed death on numerous occasions, dealt with a pretty serious eating disorder during my teens, was bullied often, and lost friends. I also began to experience chronic health issues in my early twenties. 

The Newport Institue makes this key distinction when it comes to categorizing and understanding our trauma: 

"In the mental health field, traumatic experiences are sometimes categorized as big T vs. little t trauma. The idea is that some traumatic events are more intense and severe than others.

Regardless of how they are labeled, all types of trauma can have negative effects on young adults. Traumatic stress can catalyze PTSD, depression, anxiety, substance abuse, physical problems, and other mental health and co-occurring disorders.

At Newport Institute, we don’t distinguish between big T and little t trauma. What matters is the impact the traumatic experience had on the individual and how it continues to affect their life. It’s not what happened on the outside, it’s what happened on the inside".  

Many Christians wrestling with their mental health believe the lie that if they don't think about what they've experienced, it will go away. Jesus does tell us to think about things that are pure, honorable, and true (Philippians 4:8). But He also wants us to be honest and truthful. He desires us to process our emotions so that we can heal from them.

A dear friend of mine who's on medication for anxiety says it this way: "The medication doesn't take away my personality. I still have emotions. I still feel things. But by using medication, coping skills, and my counselor—all gifts given to me by God, I'm able to manage my emotions better. They no longer control me, but are managed in a a biblical way."

The same principle applies to unpacking our trauma. It's going to be difficult. It's often challenging and not fun, but God wants to help us with our emotions! God promises to help comfort and heal us along the process (Isaiah 41:13; Romans 12:1-2; Deuteronomy 31:8). 

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By my third year of counseling, I'd hit a wall. I'd been making substantial progress, but then I had a horrible week. Within seven days, I'd had four panic attacks, an excruciating period, and contracted COVID-19. I was scared, overwhelmed, and lost. I didn't know how to cope. I felt utterly ashamed, embarrassed, and defeated. I felt like I was back to square one and God was disappointed in me. 

That week, my counselor wanted to discuss coping skills. We'd worked a lot on them, but it seemed that these sticky thoughts were persistent. In the past, running on the treadmill, working out, and accomplishing a million tasks a minute were how I coped. But if you've spent your life operating out of survival, you eventually have to learn which coping skills are no longer serving you. 

At one time, these coping mechanisms were necessary. They helped me escape from reality in a sense, pushing off the danger that was around me. I grew up in a dysfunctional family and, to me, this was normal. However, identifying behaviors that once helped you cope but no longer serve you as an adult is essential. 

Today, running isn't always the best coping skill for me. Though I'm tempted to work out when I'm stressed, overwhelmed, and anxious, what I really need to do is make myself sit still and journal my thoughts in a prayer. I still haven't mastered these practices, but it's something I'm working on. 

One thing that has transformed my view on taking care of myself is realizing two truths:

1. Self-care isn't selfish, and

2. God wants us to care for our temples.

1 Corinthians 3:16-17 says these beautiful words: "If anyone destroys God's temple, God will destroy that person; for God's temple is sacred, and you together are that temple" (NIV). 

Friends, we are God's temple, and He wants us to care for ourselves–that includes our bodies, minds, and souls. Learning to replace our unhelpful coping mechanisms with more helpful ones is part of that design. 

What's the best piece of advice your counselor or therapist has ever given you? I'd love to hear from you!

Agape, Amber

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