There are a few different reasons I chose the name TrueHearted Counseling for my practice. Here's the CliffsNotes version: I picked the name to say something about me, something about my work with you, and something about our needs as human beings.
First, I wanted it to say something about me: about the kind of practitioner—and the kind of person—I want to be. I believe that you deserve a therapist who holds himself to the highest ethics, who values your confidentiality, who listens to your input, and who provides meaningful treatment. But it's not only about business ethics. I also believe that you deserve someone who treats you as a person worthy of respect and dignity, and who does his best to live out his own values—to be true-hearted.
Second, I wanted it to say something about the goals of my work. There's this quote I love. It comes from my favorite poet, and I think it speaks to what counseling is all about. I've included it below.
First, I wanted it to say something about me: about the kind of practitioner—and the kind of person—I want to be. I believe that you deserve a therapist who holds himself to the highest ethics, who values your confidentiality, who listens to your input, and who provides meaningful treatment. But it's not only about business ethics. I also believe that you deserve someone who treats you as a person worthy of respect and dignity, and who does his best to live out his own values—to be true-hearted.
Second, I wanted it to say something about the goals of my work. There's this quote I love. It comes from my favorite poet, and I think it speaks to what counseling is all about. I've included it below.
I want to unfold. |
To borrow Rilke's words, I want to help people unfold. There are a lot of things that can make us want to fold in on ourselves. As adults, we often carry unspoken wounds and emotional baggage that we've just "gotten used to." And then, when something happens that shakes up our routines or throws things into chaos, all the things we've tried to ignore tend to come to the surface all at once. It's hard not to feel overwhelmed when that happens.
For kids, this might include things like bullying, or standardized tests, or fears, or difficulty fitting in, or loss, or abuse, or their deepest needs not being met in the way they need them to be met (and it's not always easy to figure out what that is!). It might look like tantrums, or arguing, or forgetfulness, or shyness, or crying, or drug use, or angry outbursts. Or even that eye roll and that cold shoulder technique that teenagers are so good at. For adults, it usually shows up in the things we use to numb or distract ourselves. And here's the thing: very often, those things are a protection. A way of dealing with the world. Opening ourselves to the things that hurt us in the first place is scary (even for us adults). But opening ourselves—being true to our own heart—is what we have to do to heal. In my experience, sometimes people need a safe place to work on unfolding those things, so that they no longer need the protections. The first step is listening. As Karl Menninger put it: "Listening is a magnetic and strange thing, a creative force . . . When we are listened to, it creates us, makes us unfold and expand." |
Also, to me, the name just feels like those old stories I used to love as a kid: the stories of king Arthur and the knights of the round table, of Robin Hood, of Frodo in The Lord of the Rings or the Pevensies in The Chronicles of Narnia. Stories of people trying to live out their deepest, most heartfelt values in a world that constantly challenges those values.
And ultimately, isn't there some part in each of us that wants that, even if we're not sure it's possible? We all feel our best when we're true to ourselves. When we feel whole and free. Courageous and connected. But we also carry old wounds and old stories that get in the way of being able to feel that way. Fear keeps us from taking the next step. Shame convinces us that we're alone. We want to heal, to drop our burdens, but it's not always easy to do that on our own. And for those of us who are parents: Raising children is not so much about what our kids do. I mean, sure, we want them to eat their vegetables, follow directions, make the right kind of friends, and ace their STAAR tests. But deep down, there's a reason why we give so much—why we change hundreds of dirty diapers, endure tantrums, sit with them through the storms of adolescence, and pull our hair out figuring out the right way to discipline them—why we wake up every morning and keep trying to do this parenting thing the best we can. |
It's because we're concerned about the kind of people our kids become. We want our daughters and our sons to be kind, and brave, and strong, resourceful and independent. We want them to stand up for what's right—and to stand up for themselves. We want them to break the patterns that keep them stuck. Because if they have those things, then we don't have to worry so much about what they do.
I believe that if you're reading this, you're already working hard to be the best version of yourself—or to build these things in your children. I would be honored to walk alongside you for a while and help you do what you're already doing even better.
I believe that if you're reading this, you're already working hard to be the best version of yourself—or to build these things in your children. I would be honored to walk alongside you for a while and help you do what you're already doing even better.