Men in Therapy

As I opened the door to welcome my next client into my office, I was struck by the waiting room full of men. One middle-aged, slender and tanned, likely from hard work at his trade that turned his skin leathery and his hands calloused. Just before his eyes darted from mine, I saw the pain in them and I knew he was in the right place. Another man, a little older but clean shaven and well-dressed, with just enough product in his hair to give it the spike he wanted, complimented my outfit as I made my way to my office and I could tell he really meant it. (I really liked my outfit so I took his words in and smiled as I received them). He was clearly much more comfortable in his seat, smiling and relaxed. Then there was my client who sat fidgeting with his phone with arthritic fingers- an older gentlemen in his 70s who works hard to live a life he loves and is coming to me to seek more of the same and get unstuck from the places where that vitality is inhibited.

I had to take a moment to take in the scene. It was beautiful and immediately I was moved to hope. Hope because most American men have been told their whole lives that asking for help is weakness and feeling anything is feminine. They’ve been culturally conditioned to repress their feelings and pretend they’re “fine,” always and only “fine,” and if not “fine” then angry, but even then, if you asked them, they’d probably still say they’re “fine.” And as a result they mask their true selves with arrogance and pride, because what other option do you have when you’ve been told you can’t ask for help? You have no choice but to know everything. They mask their true selves with hypersexuality, because men aren’t allowed to feel, but they’re expected objectify, flirt, use porn and push boundaries. Isn’t that a man’s worth? They mask their true selves with anger, because there is no room for imperfections, frustrations, or obstacles when they have to be fine all the time. They wear the mask, but behind it, they’re suffering, they’re lonely, they’re anxious and depressed, and they’re hopeless. We know this because in the US men die by suicide 3.88x more than women, according to a 2020 report by the CDC. So as I took in their faces- this room of men waiting patiently to see their therapists- I was filled with an overwhelming mix of hope, relief, and pride. I felt so proud of these men for taking the risk to break the mold, acknowledge their pain, and ask for help. They dared to take off the mask. They dared to let us see them. And in that moment, they were no longer alone. They allowed themselves a witness to the wounds, a partner in the pain, a helper in the hopelessness. And as beings created for connection and community- THAT. CHANGES. EVERYTHING.

Men, our door is open. You are welcome to the table of healing. There is so much space for you here. (There are plenty more seats in our waiting rooms)

Women of Desire

What does it mean to be a “Woman of Desire?”  The label alone provokes such a visceral response that I feel myself blush and look down and away, embarrassed and exposed that such a title would define me. What would someone think if they knew the desires inside, desires to live a life fully alive? 

The world doesn’t have a place for this idea of desirous women. In fact, even as I write that last sentence, my word processor tries to correct me to write “desirable woman.” It seems that women aren’t actually desire-able at all for ourselves, but only to be desirable by others as the word implies. Sigh. Culture would rather relegate us to the neat and clean boxes of “career woman” or “stay at home mom” or demand that we “act like a lady” and “know our place.” But inside, if we peel back the labels, shoulds, roles, and responsibilities, there is so much more. So much it seeps through our pores, keeps us awake at night, and leaps into our consciousness despite our best efforts. This desire that cannot be contained beckons us to wholeness and freedom and pushes back against the walls that would close it in. We are women of desire. 

For women, it is an uphill battle to become what we were created to be because all our lives we’ve not been allowed to pursue it, but instead we’ve been told to ask for it. To have what we want, we have to ask politely for permission and when that doesn’t work we bow, curtsy, and take our place on the sidelines of existence. But as desire persists, unwilling to be deadened or defied, it has survived in the forms of fight, flight, fawn, and freeze.

Women of desire must learn to feel, think, want, and need and to express these without rescuing others from the tension or feelings of failure (fawn), without demanding with anger, tears, or threats to meet needs “or else” (fight), without minimizing our experience leading to resentment, bitterness, and passive aggression (flee); and without acquiescing to others needs, enduring sex in numbness, pain, and disconnection, only to find romance on a screen rather than reality (freeze). 

We must engage and befriend our need to be seen, known, engaged, and pursued unapologetically, as this is our birthright. As we dare to allow desire out of confinement, we assent to the accompanying work of owning and taking responsibility for our needs and wants and (for those in a romantic relationship) of grieving the loss of the fantastical relationship Disney and Hollywood sold us. Instead, we embrace the person and relationship we have with all their complexity and woundedness and engage the processes of healing and growth unto a healthy, whole marriage and autonomous individuality. A woman of desire not only embraces her passions and vitality, but also invites and allows those around her to do so as well. 

Woman of desire, you were made to live life fully alive, but you were not meant to do it alone. We want to accompany you as you grieve the wounds that formed you. We want to strengthen you for the journey into ownership and growth. We want to champion you as you encounter, embrace, embody, express and expand all that it means to be fully you. Come and take a seat at our table, as we encounter the divine desire within and between us.