Therapy — The Courage to Do Something Hard*

“Doctor, my daughter has changed. She is not the same. She never seems excited

about anything anymore. It has been months since I’ve seen her smile. If it were up to

her, she would never leave her room. Can you help us?”

A moment of silence followed.

This mother’s anguish was palpable, as was her fear for her daughter. Questions raced

through her mind: Is this change permanent? Will she ever be herself again? Can’t she

try harder? Did something happen to her?

When I met her 14-year-old daughter, it was clear she was in pain—yet she was not

happy about the idea of therapy. And I don’t blame her. Therapy is often imagined as a

place where someone with credentials tells you what to do, without truly knowing who

you are, what you’ve been through, or how much it hurts.

Months passed before she gradually began to trust me—after testing me. Was I really

open to hearing anything and everything? Would I secretly judge her? Was it truly safe

to speak freely without her parents being told, barring safety issues?

Years later, as we looked back on our work together, she shared how much doubt and

distrust she carried into the therapy room at the beginning—and for some time

afterward. Eventually, our work came to an end. She felt emotionally stronger, more

aware of her inner dynamics and relationship patterns, more accepting of who she was,

and more able to choose how she wanted to live. She had grieved what needed to be

grieved—in her case, the childhood she wished she had but didn’t. She carried less

guilt. She felt freer.

I honor that therapy is not an easy journey. As one patient once said, “You expect me to

come here every week and spill my guts? For what?” These questions reflect deeply

human fears: fear of trusting, of hoping, of being disappointed, exposed, or judged.

Therapy asks a great deal—and, in some ways, very little. Your responsibility is to show

up and to commit to the process. From there, the work unfolds through the therapist’s

presence, way of relating, and clinical interventions. When both therapist and patient

commit, something powerful can happen. Defenses soften. Meaning emerges. There is

room for all that is human.

People sometimes ask why I chose a profession where I “hear problems all day.” That is

not how I see it at all. I help create the conditions in which healing is possible.

*This excerpt appeared as a column in “Our City of Weston” magazine, March 2026 issue