Goal: obsoleteness

Clients come to therapy with goals. Some want to be heard, some want to better understand themselves. Others have a specific issue that has been bothering them, and want to experience relief, change, victory. Most want all of the above.

As a therapist, I enter this work with goals of my own. To name a few, I want to be helpful, supportive, and a conduit for tangible change. Although clients’ needs define the contours, colours and priority of these goals, one of them reigns supreme in my heart: to become obsolete.

Obsoleteness, the quality of being “no longer in use or no longer useful,” seems like an odd end to pursue, except if you are a healthcare provider, particularly working in mental health. In a world where my services are needed, people are experiencing overwhelming pain, challenging circumstances, and difficulty managing their response to those struggles. People tend to share that it is hard to find helpful resources, and learn how to use them skillfully to better meet their daily needs.

I often wish we didn’t live in a world where evil runs rampant, and injustice strikes mercilessly. I wish we didn’t have to experience unexpected loss, and survive traumatic events at the rate that they occur in this moment of time. I wish life could be less painful and heartbreaking, or at least less often. I wish there were more opportunities to experience heaven on earth, instead of hell.

Therefore, the most meaningful way I found to approach this work is to chase the goal of becoming useless. Don’t get me wrong, I hold the opportunity of journeying with clients as a sacred privilege. I’ve been given the gift of being trusted to listen, hold, and support stories that are far from easy to share. And I have a front row seat to the beauty and resilience that emerge when human beings defy the odds, again and again. However, there’s nothing sweeter than attaining the prize after a period of hard work, and sometimes that period is made of many years.

For me, that prize is to hear clients describe how different they are, not necessarily because circumstances changed, but because they have changed. That prize is hearing clients describing ways of understanding themselves and the world that lead to more joy and fulfillment. For me, that prize is getting to witness deep transformation, shifted paradigms, and conquered obstacles. It’s a profound delight to see that therapy has done what it set out to do. And usually, what that tends to mean is that therapy is no longer needed, at least not for now.

Ending therapy doesn’t mean that the therapeutic relationship is obliterated, not in the slightest. When therapist and client are a good fit, that bond continues to reverberate across time and circumstances, even if regular sessions are no longer needed. The security of that connection enables clients to move forward, and provides an assurance that support is available in the future if/when there’s a need.

I pursue that prize with intentionality, love, and fierceness. I show up to this work with this (not so secret) flame in my heart, striving to provide expertise, honesty and effectiveness.

I long for the day when therapy won’t be needed ever again. Until then, I work to get fired.