I need to start by making clear that I find talk therapy to be a valuable resource and treatment. I have benefitted from it at various times in my life and I have felt the lack of it when I couldn’t or didn’t avail myself of it. It helped to get me through my angsty teen years, my time in rehab for alcoholism, and my adjustment to life on the East Coast. I even used virtual therapy for a time during its relatively early stages when it wasn’t necessarily seen as a viable alternative and found it to be helpful as well. I find the stigma attached to it to be ridiculous at least and harmful at worst. Like all forms of medical treatment, there are people who are good at it and people who are not. More recent examinations of the inherent exclusivity of its founding and practice have been insightful and illuminating and I hope those continue. As I hope that its acceptance does.
With all of that said, I have also found that there are other forms of therapy that work for me that don’t include talking to another person about my problems. These can be seen as coping mechanisms or even devices of avoidance, but I specifically indulge or utilize them to help me process the things that happen inside of my brain as well as outside of it as much as I do to salve them. That doesn’t mean they’re solely used for that purpose, or that I’m unable to enjoy them purely for the main purpose that they are generally created, but it’s usually always present in my mind on some level what the benefit these things can be doing for me is.
First is movement. This can be as simple as getting up out of whatever position of rest I’m in, to taking a walk somewhere, to engaging in some form of strenuous physical activity, to the act of travel. Each of these things can bring me back into my mind and body while I move through space in some way. Often some other form of therapy will be used while doing these things, but it can also be of value to allow the movement to happen by itself. Especially when it comes to movement outside of my usual spaces, allowing that other stimuli to be a part of the experience can further the benefit of whatever looking inward I may be doing. Plus sometimes you might even interact with another living thing and have that reframe whatever it is you’re processing.
Next is discovery. This covers a wide range of individually useful practices or behaviors, but essentially is about the same thing and therefore benefits me in the same way at the core of each. It can involve movement as well, of course — sometimes it’s an inseparable component — but it’s not the only way to discover things. Observing and procuring are the two main forms of discovery that work best for me. In simpler terms, they are watching, listening, or reading things that are new to me and what’s already a popular phrase in retail therapy. Clearly films and television have been an integral part of getting through lockdown for many of us, but there are also all those other forms of entertainment that have been harder to access that also have that same power. Plays, live music, dance, sporting events, readings, museums, and more. All of those things have the ability to unlock new insights just as well as they entertain. I engage with them daily, especially films, and writing about that engagement in some way often helps me to process what’s happening underneath my daily existence. Buying things is a bit trickier, a practice that is essentially ancient and ingrained in humanity by this point but still holds power outside of the basic act. Without delving too deeply into those intricacies, sometimes it can feel good to use whatever capital you have to procure something you want just because of the chemicals your brain releases when you do so. In addition to that, it can help to define who we are in the world by having things that are an outside representation of how we feel inside. Many of us aren’t capable of creating these things ourselves, so we have to find others that can and reward them for doing so. All of this can lead to more of that inward examination so that the getting of something becomes a part of that experience.
Last is familiarity. This third one has a tendency to overlap with the other two. Movement to and through familiar spaces can be not only soothing and calming but can lead to further examination of said spaces and as such of oneself. Re-experiencing things you have previously discovered leads to familiarity with them and you can make new discoveries about them and yourself. Rewatching a show, or listening to a song again, or going to a museum to look at that one painting over and over all allow for a familiarity with the work that can lead to a deeper insight into the self. Liking something you have bought before can lead to it being something you always replace when it breaks down, or that you always make sure to get so you can experience that taste or smell or feel again. Or so that you can reward the maker of said thing for creating something that feels like such a good fit. Sometimes the security and comfort that comes from familiarity can lead to deeper and more impactful introspection than any movement or discovery can afford.
One little side thing that’s hinted at here and there throughout this is the solace that non-human living things can provide. Observing other forms of nature go about their lives can be both deeply calming and hugely impactful on the inner self. Apart from the animals I have lived with in some form or another for most of my life and the grace and ridiculousness they afford, I’ll never forget one moment of therapy I had in rehab, alone with only a common housefly. I was swimming in the pool there, a luxury we were allowed once a week, and watched the fly miscalculate its flight path and land in the water. Feeling especially tuned into the fragility and importance of life at the time, I plucked a small leaf that was swirling in the pool near me, scooped it gently under the rapidly panicking fly, and lifted it out of the water and onto the hot concrete nearby. I watched as its frantic flailing to avoid imminent death slowed to a hurried cleaning of its wings and body until it was unencumbered enough to lift itself back into the sky, which it did unceremoniously and without even a nod to my efforts. It disappeared into the summertime sky and I couldn't help but think of my own situation, of how I was doing my best to cleanse myself of the things that were holding me down and back, and how there were many who were helping me through the process I would probably never see or hear from again. I felt my appreciation for where I was grow in that moment as I bobbed in the water next to the drying leaf/lifeboat. I didn’t need to be anywhere but where I was. And that was some good therapy.