On Monday, I had my first therapy session in awhile after winter break and traveling. I had planned to talk about my intentions for the year and some anxiety I’ve been feeling about writing my book. But the conversation took an unexpected turn.
Over the break, I had an experience that reminded me how much I need mutual vulnerability in a friendship. I tend to be someone who asks a lot of questions and inquires about others, but I often find myself in friendships where I use that curiosity as a shield against depth. The friendships I treasure most are the ones where both of us can share vulnerable things without keeping a mental scoreboard of who needs more support or who shares more. It’s a fluid balance.
Therapy, however, isn’t like that. In therapy, you enter a conversation knowing it’s going to be all about you, which I find intimidating. The deepest conversations in my life usually involve a natural back-and-forth sharing, not something pre-planned or one-sided.
For some time now, I’ve been trying to figure out why I find it so hard to go deep in therapy. I’m the queen of keeping it light and intellectualizing my emotions to avoid actually feeling them. Is it because I’m a chronic people pleaser? Am I afraid to feel deeply? Or do I need mutual vulnerability to feel safe enough to share?
On Monday, I told my therapist that I find it really hard to share deep parts of myself when there’s no reciprocity. It’s not like I can open up about my body image struggles and then have my therapist share her own recent challenges. That’s what happens in friendships, not therapy. But this one-sided sharing dynamic feels almost impossible for me for two reasons.
Reason #1: I feel guilty "dumping" on my therapist for 50 minutes, especially since I know so little about her. It feels transactional. I understand that I’m literally paying her to listen to me, but that almost makes it worse. I tend to keep therapy sessions light so I don’t risk burdening her or ruining her day. Of course, I know these are my own projections—my therapist has assured me she’s fully capable of hearing my deepest thoughts and moving on with her day—but the people pleaser in me is so loud.
A related part of this is that I want my therapist to like me. I want her to think I’m smart, funny, empathetic, and thoughtful. This tweet sums up my feelings pretty well.
Reason #2: I’m realizing how much I depend on mutual depth to feel comfortable opening up. For instance, if someone asks me lots of questions about myself without sharing anything about themselves, I struggle to feel motivated to share. Part of this is because I use curiosity as a defense mechanism—ironically, the same thing that frustrates me when others do it. In relationships where there’s a balance—where a friend shares about themselves and also asks meaningful questions about me—I feel safe and encouraged to share. Those kinds of relationships are rare for me, which makes the ones I do have so special.
With my therapist, I know almost nothing about her, nor am I supposed to. I’m not meant to know what makes her tick or what she worries about. Yet the act of discussing myself for an hour feels foreign and uncomfortable. In a weird way, it makes me pull back instead of opening up. We aren’t friends, and we shouldn’t be, but how can I get comfortable with therapy’s “it’s all about me” model?
My therapist validated that the one-sided disclosure dynamic of therapy can be challenging for some people. Couples therapy, on the other hand, feels much easier. In those sessions, Ryan and I share back and forth with our therapist acting as the mediator. It feels entirely different from individual therapy. I find it easier to go deep in couples therapy because I can play off Ryan’s vulnerability. He’s the person who enables the mutual deepening of our relationship.
I’m not ready to give up on individual therapy because I still get so much out of the sessions. But I know I’m holding back a significant part of myself. Can I overcome my tendencies toward people-pleasing and my discomfort with one-sided disclosure? Can I allow myself to be vulnerable in this setting? I’m not sure. But there’s only one way to find out.