Some therapists are bus drivers, some cabbies.
Bus drivers have set routes. It’s where they go, and it’s important for them to keep to timelines. They stop where they are scheduled to stop, not necessarily where you were wanting to get off and look around.
Cabbies invite you in, and say “Where you headin’, Mac?” Ask them about schedules and routes, they say “That’s your call—my time is your time—you tell me where you feel like going today, and I’ll help get you there.” You’re more empowered with a cabbie.
Subway drivers take the deep, loud, clangy underground route, through darkness, dank passages, jerky turns, the screech of psychic braking, packed in close with all the people of your past.
Part of my job, as I see it, is to teach clients that I am their cabbie, not their bus driver. Sometimes they really, really want me to be the bus driver, but I refuse that job most of the time. This is your ride, not mine.
And nothing wrong with subways—I love ‘em—but it’s not the way I work as a therapist. I love the street life, and the scene up ahead too much to take dark rides through 1957, or 1972. There are plenty of subway drivers around, if you are so inclined. Tends to be a slower ride, but that’s OK.
“You wanna cruise through Central Park today? Excellent! Let me know if you wanna stop anywhere for a slice, or to just sit in the grass over by the lake. My time is your time…I trust you to make good calls for yourself…”
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