I went to see my therapist last week.
No, not that kind of therapist. Although, as I write those words, it makes me think how much stigma there is in the UK about seeing a therapist. We avoid it if we can, and, if we can’t, we avoid mentioning it, as if it were a sign that there was something wrong with us. My American friends talk about seeing their therapists as casually as they would talk about a trip to the dentist, and that’s exactly how it should be. Our mental health is one of the most, if not the most, important things in our lives, so of course we should carefully maintain it. But we avoid getting help until we’re utterly broken because, ironically, we don’t want to seem like we’re broken.
Everyone should have some kind of mental health support as standard. But I don’t have a therapist. I’m a massive hypocrite. Therapy is expensive, and, in my mind, I can’t justify the expense. I’ve got a mortgage and bills to pay, two small children to feed and clothe. Plus being self-employed - although it has many, many benefits - can give you a sense of financial instability. When you’re never 100% sure where your next bit of income is coming from, it can be hard to commit to ongoing expenses. I should prioritise my mental wellbeing and commit that money, but I just don’t. I tell you what, when I get to 50 paid subscribers, I will use some of that money to see a therapist.
But for now, instead, I get a monthly massage. It’s cheaper than therapy, feels like less of a financial commitment (if I don’t have the money one month, I can just not go), and it’s good for my all-round wellbeing. Plus, it turns out, my massage therapist is also pretty good at the psychological stuff.
Every month, before the massage, we have a chat. She talks to me about what’s going on in my life, about why I’m experiencing so much tension in my neck and shoulders, and why I get so many aches and pains. So much of our mental and emotional struggles are held in our bodies. Yes, my back hurts from carrying too much - heavy children, a laptop bag, shopping - but it also hurts from carrying too much - the mental load of parenthood, the stress of starting and growing a business, the emotional weight of caring for a family… My massage therapist is also deeply knowledgeable about astrology and holistic healing, and she has a lot of insights into my experience of life, and practical advice on taking care of myself, that I find really valuable. It’s a whole wellness experience, and way cheaper than therapy.
This week, her insights were so interesting, and felt so relevant for this season that we’re entering right now (and the season that I, personally, am entering, which I know resonates with some of you), that I wanted to share some of them with you.
The end contains the beginning
Autumn is a time of shedding and decay. It can look bleak, sometimes - the bare branches, the absence of colour. But the leaves fall from the trees and then nourish the soil at their roots. It’s the falling away that enriches the plant, allowing something new to grow. The old flowers have to come off if you want new ones to grow in future, you can’t hold on to what’s gone.
We’re often frightened of letting go. We cling on tightly to the past, to what we’ve created, to who we’ve been. We judge ourselves for letting things end. But that ending is what makes possible a new beginning. The trees show us the courage of surrender every year - they’re not scared to let all their leaves fall away, they do it freely in confidence that new ones will grow again. They always do.
There can be grief and pain in the falling away. That’s natural, and we have to allow ourselves to experience those feelings. But often those difficult experiences are making us stronger, helping us grow, enriching our soil. From the pain and the challenges we encounter, we can create something new.
This is the time of year that the sun is in Scorpio, the constellation that I was born under. Scorpions have a venomous sting, but the venom has also been found to contain pain-killing properties, and can be used to treat a number of conditions. Sometimes, a dark experience contains within it something that can help us in future.
Levelling up
Every seven years, there’s a whole new you. Each cell in your body is continually regenerating at different rates - some are replaced every few weeks, others take years; but after seven years, everything has regenerated and you are, essentially, brand new.
Scorpio season brings my birthday, and this year brings my 40th. It feels like a huge milestone, but that has more to do with the arbitrary weight we attach to an artificially created counting system. The real change comes at 42 - at that point it will be my sixth cycle of regeneration. I’ll be a new person for the seventh time. There’s something powerful in that evolution of cycles. According to my wise massage therapist, 42 is a point at which we have become fully realised. That doesn’t mean we’ve achieved everything we want to or that we know everything or have it all sorted out, but we have evolved into our potential. We know who we truly are and what we want, we understand our sense of purpose in life. We have greater inner strength and confidence to pursue that purpose and fulfil our needs.
There’s huge potential in life after 42. Our early life is a process of learning and growing; then, at 42, we’re moving into a phase of taking action. Douglas Adams was onto something when he set 42 as the answer to life, the universe and everything in The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy. We’re taught, in our culture, to fear ageing as a process of decay, as descent towards darkness, whereas in reality it is growth and evolution. Levelling up to something more powerful.
The cycles of letting go and regeneration that we go through take us into a deeper knowing of ourselves, and a better understanding of our calling. They give us power to make things happen and to live the life we want, on our own terms.
Everyone should have a therapist to help them unlock insights like these into themselves and their path. But that therapist doesn’t always come in the shape you expect.