I know a thing or two about neurosis, having started therapy at age 26 and continuing, from then on, a quest to find a place of quiet, calm wisdom. When that never happened, I dropped self-improvement and took up self-acceptance instead. It’s been freeing for me. I stopped trying to get well and just let myself be happy, warts and all. Turns out that neurosis is good for blogging, anyway.
Anyway, I’ve met a number of therapists in my lifetime, and some are better than others. My last therapist, Marilyn, was a warm, 60-something woman with great therapeutic skill and a lively, even bawdy, sense of humor. With Marilyn, healing was not such lofty, serious business, and she shared her own humanity openly without violating the precious patient-therapist boundaries. That doesn’t mean I never cried, but somehow we had a great time as we poked and prodded into my anxious life.
Years later, when I found June O’Hara‘s blog The Neurosis Files, I found a voice equally compelling. Though a therapist, O’Hara embraces her own midlife crisis with humor and irreverence. She’s even working on a book she calls, Your Therapist Isn’t Well, Either. When that gets published, I’ll be the first in line! In the meantime, whether writing about cell phones, life as a therapist (including a certain little girl who cured herself), or everyday irritations, you’ll feel a little lighter if you keep up with June. And maybe, the next time your therapist studies you with a knowing look over the top of his reading glasses, stroking his beard, you’ll know that deep down inside, Mr. Know It All doesn’t have all the answers, either.
