In the end there’s only one reason anyone goes to therapy:
Plan A has broken down.
Plan A is my label for everything we learn as children about life, and how to live it; feelings, and what to do with them; relationships, and how to handle them.
We each have a Plan A.
And we all pretty much learn it in the same place and in the same way.
The place is our family, and the way is unconsciously.
Nobody sits us down at the kitchen table and says, “Listen up. Here’s how you do Life.” No, they just do Life themselves, and we watch and listen and soak it all up like little sponges. Which explains why our Plan A tends to look so much like that of our family members.
And it works okay for a while. Especially while we’re still living in the family. We’re all following the same unwritten, unspoken rule book.
But Plan A always breaks down.
Eventually we move beyond the family into the larger world, filled with new people and new challenges. And we discover that what worked at home doesn’t always work out there.
At which point we have, in theory at least, a choice.
We can tell ourselves, “Oh, I see. I guess I need a Plan B.”
Or we can tell ourselves, “I must be doing it wrong. I better try harder at implementing Plan A.”
Guess which we choose?
Right. Plan A.
Always Plan A.
Two reasons for this. First, we may not even know there’s such a thing as Plan B. Childhood trained us to see Plan A as normal. (Why would anyone do Life in any other way?)
Second, even when we suspect there are other options, we cling to Plan A because it’s familiar. We already know how to do it. We can do it in our sleep.
And change is scary.
So we keep following Plan A even despite mounting evidence that it no longer works.
And that’s when we begin to develop symptoms — anxiety, depression, addictions, communication problems, bad relationships.
Those symptoms are what drive us into therapy.
Seeking, whether we know it not, a Plan B.