Trusting the Therapeutic Process Even When It Feels Uncertain

“Healing from trauma can sometimes feel like you are always playing catch-up in life. Slow down, don’t rush, and trust the process.”- Brown Girl Trauma

It’s a chilly morning here, perfect time for me to write. Rainy days compel me to create. I live in a small village on the outskirts of Nairobi. I love how quiet it gets after it has rained. I love silence. I thrive in quiet spaces. But I can’t ignore the sound of chirping birds. They sound happy, and so am I.

I’m happy because there was a season when I couldn’t create. No matter how much I slept, exercised, used my hands, or how nutritious my diet was, my creative juices had gone dry for months. Oh, how I grieved my ability to create. I craved writing even one meaningful paragraph.

My brain was so jammed. Reading was a struggle, and sitting through a lesson was challenging. I’d follow through for 10 minutes, but when I’d pause to reflect on what I’d learned, I’d find myself staring at the wall and soaking in the reality of how sick my brain was.

Learning was difficult. A module that would take an hour to finish took me two weeks. A 40-hour course took 8 months for me to finish. Those were dark days for me.

I almost gave up on learning. But I relentlessly pushed through, because I value self-development. I felt shame for not being able to read and comprehend material that would help me in my healing journey. That felt tough! I beat myself up daily. I almost quit therapy because I wasn’t getting better.

Getting better to me meant being able to get up, write, or create with ease like I did in the past. But I couldn’t.

The reality of not being able to sustain myself because I couldn’t create ate me up moment by moment. One day, I shared with my therapist how difficult life felt and how nothing seemed to be working. I remember how I had insomnia and had to take melatonin twice at night. First, when going to bed and another dose when I lost sleep in the middle of the night. That felt crazy, yoh!

I remember the therapist looking at me, pausing, and asking me to be gentle with myself. She reminded me of how far I had come and pointed out areas I had made progress. She also reminded me that I had just moved out and that was a major transition, considering that I had never left home to live by myself.

I looked down and agreed with her half-heartedly. I wanted my energy back, and I wanted to see immediate results. She reminded me that I was processing heavy experiences while making big moves in my life and that can slow me down. That made sense. But still, the results-oriented, over-achieving human in me wouldn’t give me peace.

I kept asking her why I was feeling like a fraud, and why I could no longer do things I’m good at. I hoped to get a direct answer, but she gave me an assessment instead. I don’t remember the title, but I remember what stood out for me were the results. It showed that I was kinder to other people but harsh on myself. I felt sad. I asked her how to get over it. I don’t remember what she said, I probably zoned out. That used to happen a lot during that season. I’d lose focus when talking to someone and just shut down. But I wrote down what I needed to work on because my memory had taken a sabbatical.

We agreed that I was going to work on self-kindness, self-judgment, and isolation. Yoh! All these felt like a chore. Wasn’t there an easy way out? A pill I could just take and everything gets better. Oops!

It took years to get sick, so it’s going to take some time for me to get to where I want to be. We agreed that I was going to be intentional about caring for Faith, allowing Faith to make mistakes, and letting Faith show up socially. Typing that sentence brought back the weight I felt when leaving therapy that day.

Looking back, I’m so grateful I stayed through the process. I made progress and that’s something my therapist reminded me of constantly. I remember when ending that year, I made a craft as a sign of appreciation for the support I got. My therapist was proud of me, she reminisced over the wins I had. She kept reminding me that this was not the end, that I wasn’t dumb, I was just sick, and that didn’t define me. It’s a season and it will go away. I had what it took to brave through life’s challenges.

Looking back, I never believed any of those things. I didn’t see what she saw. But I believed her because no trained, intelligent human would waste their time speaking empty words. She’s a high-value woman, I knew she wasn’t wasting her words, energy, and efforts. I chose to believe her. She gave me hope. Whenever darkness threatened to steal my hope, I remembered her words and held on to the hope she had for me. That gave me the courage to choose life moment by moment.

It’s possible to expect relief or to see things running smoothly in your life after being in therapy for some time. The truth is, depending on the magnitude of your psychological wound, you may be making progress and still not feel like it, but that doesn’t mean that you’re not getting well. I did major successful things while going to therapy and still wanted to quit.

Some days I’d pray to God that my therapist wouldn’t give up on me. I’m glad she didn’t. I still remember the delightful look she had every time she saw me. She honoured my claustrophobia by arranging for a spacious, well-lit room for our sessions. I’m grateful for this woman. God bless her!

Our healing journeys are unique. They’re not linear. We may place huge expectations on ourselves but cannot control our internal pain. You probably know how pain slows you down by now. But that doesn’t mean that you’re regressing. Slowing down a car to change a tire or to rest for a while doesn’t mean that the trip has ended. It doesn’t mean that we’re going back to where we started from. No.

Taking time to attend to your mental and emotional needs is not a waste of time, energy, or resources. On the contrary, it gives you room to recharge and pivot well. Stay in the process. Rest if you must, but don’t quit. Don’t give up. Thank you for choosing life.

Love,
Faith