Therapy and Closets, Closets, Closets (Thanks, Modern Family)

I have developed a metaphor for the experience of therapy as it relates to – (ta da!) – a messy closet.

Let’s imagine, if you will, that there is a large closet you walk by multiple times a day. And anytime a little thing (or a big thing) you don’t want to talk about or think about happens, you throw it into the closet. And then let’s imagine that this becomes an established pattern for a long time. Days, months or years pass without giving it much thought.

On the outside, it looks however you want it to look. Clean. Neat. Intact. Perfected. Stable.
But we all know what’s going on inside of this closet, right? Yeah. Exactly. Chaos ensues.
Now let’s imagine one day, you want something precious from that closet. It’s back there, waaaay back there, in the farthest corner. You know it’s hard to reach. You know this is going to take work. But you also know that, somewhere deep down, it’s possible to get this precious thing back out and into your life.

What initially happens to our life outside of this closet door in attempt to get to this precious thing? Piles of mess form outside of the closet. Random bits are found again, and we are flooded with memories. We find some things to discard or toss, and things we’ve outgrown or that have outgrown us.

Then there’s overwhelming thoughts, feelings and exhaustion. And then the courage comes back for a short while. Then we find the energy to get back to our great search again. But we have to stop or it becomes too overwhelming.  And repeat.

This reminds me of therapy.

In short, we need to create a mess before we can begin to reorganize the closet, and reunite with that precious, desired thing.  Therapy is frequently uncomfortable, messy and unpredictable. We usually attribute these things as belonging in the “bad for me” column.  However, there are a lot of creative, courageous and beautiful things that arise from such a recipe.  It only takes willingness, trust in the process, and a goal or two. And supportive encouragement.

And that, my friends, is how the journey toward a clean closet (aka a therapeutic process) is born.
How do you relate to this metaphor?