The Wonder of it All.
Very few of us come to therapy because everything in our lives feels wonderful and we are content and peaceful. We often seek out therapy because we are anxious, depressed, or stuck in patterns that feel overwhelming and harmful. We seek out support to feel better.
When I conduct intakes with new clients, I always ask, “How do you want to feel to know that our work has been successful?” The answer is almost always some iteration of “better.” Freud said that the purpose of therapy was to transform “neurotic misery into ordinary unhappiness.” And of course, so much of the work I do in session with clients is normalizing the emotional ups and downs of being human. In our society, which is so driven by the idea of perpetual happiness, for example hedonic happiness, or happiness from external sources, it can be important to gently challenge unrealistic expectations.
However, is there also room for a focus on joy, happiness, and wonder in therapy? I participated in a training by Dr. Jonah Paquette on using awe as a clinical tool. Studies have shown that awe is associated with decreased inflammation, reduced stress, and increased feelings of connection, compassion, and curiosity.
We have all had experiences that bring us a sense of awe and wonder. Maybe it is seeing a sunrise, the birth of a child, a soaring eagle, or a piece of beautiful art. What if we used these experiences as clinical tools to support clients through their stress and struggles? So many of my clients struggle with anxiety, and what is anxiety if not a focus on what has not yet happened or what might happen. When we gaze at the vastness of the ocean or the perfect bloom of a flower, we are brought into the present moment. In the present moment, we are free.
As a therapist, I am here to support you through struggle and pain, but can I also help you cultivate more awe in your life? Can I help you reconnect with a sense of wonder? Is there space to explore what brings that feeling forward? In my therapy practice, there is.
Because healing is not about eliminating pain or reaching some ideal version of “happiness.” It is about learning how to hold the full complexity of being human, the grief and the beauty, the fear and the possibility. It is about creating enough safety within ourselves to stay present, not only with what is hard, but also with what is expansive.
And sometimes, it is in those small moments of awe that we begin to remember that both can exist at once.