Taking Risks

Therapy, and life as it were, is about taking risks.  It is, that might be cliche and silly for some of you, but really, what is life without the possibility of heartbreak, hurt, and loss?  Bland, safe, but lacking an essential sort of passion.  I recently recounted the story of how I realized that sex therapy and a life of sex education was undoubtedly in my future plans: "I was always the one who would ask the questions no one else would," and "I was always the one who would speak up and talk openly about sexuality, as if no different from any other topic."  Many of my peers and friends who have studied sexuality alongside me have shared similar stories of high school sex ed class and college "counseling" to friends with pregnancy scares, coming out issues, or just everyday sexuality questions.  For whatever reason, when I brought this story up to a newly-introduced colleague, she sent me something later on about risk-taking, and that I had reminded her of the necessity to take risks in my story of self-discovery through health class, if you will.  This is what she sent my way:

DARE TO RISK

To laugh is to risk appearing the fool. 

To weep is to risk appearing sentimental.        

To reach for another is to risk involvement.      

To expose your ideas, your dreams, before a crowd is to risk their loss.  

To love is to risk not being loved in return.              

To live is to risk dying. 

To believe is to risk failure.  

But risks must be taken, because the greatest hazard in life is to risk nothing.  

The people who risk nothing, do nothing, have nothing, are nothing.         

They may avoid suffering and sorrow, but they cannot learn, feel, change, grow, love, live.        

  Chained by their attitudes, they are slaves; they have forfeited their freedom. 

Only a person who risks is free.

  I think as a recent grad, this strikes a lot of nerves for me as a new professional.  Personally, this hits home as something I tried tirelessly to get a loved one to understand, with no avail.  It also shows me how important current friendships and loves are becoming because of the risk involved.  Professionally, thinking about risks for clients is something that I must attend to constantly.  Even if I think I see a connection somewhere, does not make it so or, more importantly, easy for my client to see.  We only see and understand what we can at the moment.  Sort of like the saying "God only gives you what you can handle," but less religiously-induced.  The idea that we as humans with intellect can only understand so much at certain times.  The process is necessary. And hard.  It's fucking hard.

  I remember one of the most meaningful things a therapist ever said to me: "Thank you for reminding me how hard real work can be for a client, and helping me help you take your time."  At the end of grad school I had nearly lost my mind, and wanted only to process what I could see on a surface level, i.e. the terrible relationship I was in that I glorified endlessly as perfection.  My therapist pushed me hard, and when I resisted, her response was the above.  She had forgotten how hard therapy can be, and that even if the therapist "gets it," the client needs time to get it for themselves and make it there own.

  Even when we, as clinicians, see connections, these may be false.  They may be misguided.  They may not be true for the client.  I have to remember that I take a risk clinically every time I formulate a case concept.  I take a risk of labeling, diagnosing, and pathologizing something for an individual that may be the only way they have been able to function.  I must remember to hold with care all that clients give me, and to take careful risks.  However, these risks are where the work gets done.  These risks are necessary.  No matter how scary they are, for myself or my clients.  

  We must be willing to go deeper, to take risks, to truly challenge ourselves and our worldviews.  Without this risk, we would have no introspection, and minimal treatment results, and my job would be bologna.