What’s therapy really like?

This mental health advocate wants to crystallize the concept for you

By Ariel Nathanson

I recently received an unexpected gift from a well-intentioned friend - a heart-shaped rose quartz with a card detailing its healing, detoxifying properties. Detoxification, the card explained, would be achieved through the crystal’s flow of energy between mind, body, and soul.

While the crystal was objectively beautiful and the gesture of the gift was wholesomely kind, it annoyed the shit out of me.

“What a fool I’ve been if I could have reaped the same detoxifying benefits of therapy with a crystal by my bedside instead of subjecting myself to a treatment that is painful, time consuming, expensive, and exposing. ”

I couldn’t articulate at the moment why I had such a negative reaction. But then a week later, I was talking to a friend about therapy and I referred to it as a long process of detoxification, which made me think of the pink crystal and its detox claim to fame.

And then the negative connection crystallized.

If crystals can detox the mind, body, and soul and I think of therapy as detox — what a fool I’ve been if I could have reaped the same detoxifying benefits of therapy with a crystal by my bedside instead of subjecting myself to a treatment that is painful, time-consuming, expensive, and exposing.

A bonus bout of annoyance came when I thought about all of the other ways in which we’re told about detoxification and sold on propagandized ways to get rid of the good to make way for the bad: detox teas, aromatherapy pillows, calm candies, ashwagandha gummies, adult coloring books for anxiety… the irony that these objects present themselves as replacements for western medicine, despite making the exact same claim that so many people criticize western medicine for — which is that complex problems can be made simple by just consuming something. Take this pill, your problem goes away. Use this crystal-infused water bottle, your problem goes away. Everyone wants quick fixes, but quick fixes don't work for complex issues like what's going on in your brain: it's a process.

I don’t mean to knock all of those things, because I do believe it’s important to have a variety of self-care options and rituals, but here’s my thesis on detoxing: you can change your name to Amethyst and drink green juices until you shit out a whole celery stalk, but unless you truly work on yourself in some kind of therapeutic setting, you are going to be riddled with toxins.

“Here’s my thesis: therapy doesn’t work like a healing crystal. It works like an acne-foaming face wash. If you really want to detox, you need to know the difference. ”

I sent my friend a sweet and belated note of thanks and put the crystal in a box in my closet.

And then, compelled to find a silver lining, I decided to write this article.

In its first version, it was framed as an expert’s reflections on therapy and why it’s worth trying.

But I quickly realized that wasn’t right on two fronts — first, I’m not an expert in therapy because I’ve been in it for 10 years no more than I’m an expert on LaCroix because I drink 3 (or 4) cans a day.

Second, I think we can all agree that therapy has reached mainstream awareness - if not acceptance. So I wouldn’t be adding anything to the conversation by saying, “try therapy!”

So I pivoted and here’s my thesis: therapy doesn’t work like a healing crystal. It works like an acne-foaming face wash. If you really want to detox, you need to know the difference.

Before we dive into that, a little background on me —

I was diagnosed with panic disorder about 10 years ago, but since my panic attacks are infrequent so as to not disrupt my daily life, I no longer meet the criteria for the diagnosis. I still feel like it’s part of my identity and a major motivator for preventive care, so I say I have panic disorder “in remission.”

“Therapy is hard but being crushed by anxiety is harder. ”

I reached remission status about 5 years ago, but stayed in therapy because I found it helpful to have dedicated time to talk through and unpack the thoughts, feelings, and unrelenting consequences of being a responsible adult. I started at twice a week, then once a week, and now it’s once every other week. In the spirit of honesty in service of de-stigmatization, I continue to take my anti-anxiety medicine, Sertraline (generic Zoloft), and have a security blanket set of Ativan pills in a cute little case called a pill pod that — you guessed it — looks like a pea pod.

Over the last few months, I’ve been thinking about my thesis and how to depict therapy as an arduous but overwhelmingly worthwhile process of detoxification; how to show that it’s an act of cleaning out wounds, treating affected areas, and committing to a long process of healing.

Then two weeks ago, I was opening a package of acne foaming wash (because I’m 36 and still have acne, but that’s a diatribe for another day) and for some reason, decided to read the side of the box. It was an infographic of cleanse + treat + heal.

I audibly said “THAT’S IT!” to which my husband responded “are you talking to the cat in the bathroom?”

Nevermind him. The point is that therapy isn’t a crystal — it’s a foaming face wash!

Here’s how:

CLEAN

Your first therapy sessions are all about cleaning out the wounds. By talking openly and honestly about your fears, insecurities, and self-limiting beliefs, you begin to dissolve the hardened layers of scar tissue that formed in response to your lived experience (tramas, aggressions, painful interactions) over the years. You dig and exhume what can be decades of metaphorical, reinforced garbage, negative systems and cycles. This is HARD and PAINFUL. But unequivocally healing and rewarding. The most cathartic, detoxifying thing you can do.

TREAT

The next step is to develop new behavior systems and coping mechanisms to prevent future cuts — life’s tough realities — from becoming infected in the future. In these terms, one of the hardest — if not THE hardest part of therapy is the time in between the sessions when you have to walk around with open wounds and a new external barrier that is not fully formed. You do double duty as you treat and create a sustainable pathway to the next step - healing.

HEAL

Once the garbage is out, you finish construction on that new external barrier. Think of those commercials for face washes (nevermind the part where the actress hurls a gallon of water on her face with complete disregard for soaking the floor) — the visual of removing the dead skin, penetrating the clogged pore, cleaning out the pore, then restoring the skin’s natural barrier to prevent future flare-ups.

Cleanse. Treat. Heal. Repeat. That’s therapy. That’s the detox.

And as you’re going through the hardest part, the exhumation, the digging, the cleaning — try to visualize the side of that foaming face wash box. Cleaning out the wound. Treating. Healing. Detoxing.

Sometimes the detox process takes a few months, sometimes it takes a few years. And sometimes — like in my case — you stay in it because it’s a matter of choosing your “hard.” Therapy is hard but being crushed by anxiety is harder.

Not every therapist is perfect and because of the pervasive barriers to accessible, affordable, and reliable therapy and providers who take insurance, it can take a while to find the right one. And that goes double if you are not a straight, white, cis person and want a therapist who has first-hand experience with your background, identity, or sexual orientation.

BUT if you were hoping the universe would give you a sign to invest in yourself via therapy, here it is!

There are a few great places to start:

Back to the crystal gift from my friend — I decided to assign the crystal a new meaning: a gesture from a loving person and a token of the challenging but unequivocally worthwhile work I’ve done over the years. I recently took it out of my closet and put it on my dresser with some of the other things that make me happy to see every morning like pictures of my family, the bracelet my mom gifted me on my wedding day and the stash of dark chocolate I keep hidden from my children.

I realized that the crystal may or may not have inherent healing or detoxification properties, but it’s a beautiful reminder that I am worth putting in the hard work to heal.

And so are you.