“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”
~ E.E. Cummings

Two weeks ago, I got a text from my cherished friend of over 40 years. She sent a photo of a book inscription and asked if I remembered giving her The Knight in Rusty Armor. My friend’s husband had found the book on a shelf in his bedside table where it had apparently been misplaced. Intrigued, he opened it, and saw my message to her from 1992.

As soon as I saw it, memories came flooding back. I remembered reading the book back then and loving it, with insights—new to me at the time—about seeking answers within, and trusting ourselves. I knew it would resonate with my friend.

The Knight in Rusty Armor, written by author, playwright, and longtime comedy screenwriter Robert Fisher, was published in 1987. The story is a fable about a knight who faces a life-changing dilemma and goes on a journey of self-discovery. It’s a short, simple, and funny read, but the lessons in it for living a happy life are profound.

My oldest sister happened to be in town the weekend I got the texts, and when I mentioned the book, she recalled that she was the one who had given it to me! She said it came from her dear friend Edna who had been impressed with it and passed it along.

I hadn’t heard about Edna for ages, but I remembered her. Many years ago, we were both in therapy at the same time, and she shared a poem with me through my sister. When I read it, I was stuck by how similar it was to a piece I had written during my own therapy:

Tears of sorrow.
Tears of joy.
Endings and beginnings.
Remembering the painstaking work.
Uncovering.
Deciphering.
Releasing.
You were the first
To teach me
That I’m worthy
Simply because I am.

My last session was bittersweet, as I imagine most are. While I was happy to be striking out on my own, I was sad at the loss of such an important healing relationship. When I got home, I grabbed a notebook, and those words came pouring out.

I’d never written any poetry before except for school assignments. After discovering that someone else wrote about therapy in a free verse style so close to my own, I became curious about the phenomenon. I started asking others who had shared with me that they’d gone for therapy, and found that some of them had written what I now call “therapy poems” as well. I found each one to be deeply personal, emotional, and self-questioning. It opened my eyes to a new form of reflective writing I had not been aware of.

At that time, I was working on the first version of my book Thinking About Therapy? and was considering opening each chapter with a quote. But once I saw Edna’s poem, I knew I had to include it along with my own. I got the idea to start each chapter with a therapy poem to help readers understand the emotional journey involved.

What amazes me about hearing Edna’s name again is that I am currently working on updating that very same book, although I’ve renamed it Need to Talk? I’ve been living and breathing the material all month, as I tend to do when I am deep into a project.

Again, I have been talking with friends and relatives about their therapy experiences in order to give readers as realistic a view of the process as possible. Although much about the actual treatment remains the same, with telehealth appointments and email and text options, the delivery methods have made it more accessible. I’m encouraged that more people than ever are not only talking about mental health, but are seeking help.

Talk therapy is not easy, but the results from doing deep emotional work are life-changing and long-lasting.

In my experience, many people who have gone through treatment go on to share what they’ve learned with others. We become ambassadors, of sorts, of “the talking cure,” as it used to be called.

Like pebbles tossed into water, one therapist explained to me, the reach of therapy expands in ever increasing circles.

Each person healed is another person who now has some tools to teach those around them, and especially the generations after them, a healthier way to deal with their emotions.

As a society we are learning, much as the knight in the fable does, that the armor we often wear with others in order to protect ourselves is actually keeping us from enjoying healthy relationships.

The central message of therapy is that we are all worthy of love, just as we are.

We don’t need our heavy defenses. We can drop our shields and be our authentic selves—the surest way to create meaningful connections with others so we can get the love we desire.

The longer we’ve worn our armor, the harder it is to drop. We have to be determined and brave as we venture into the unknown lands of vulnerability and emotional honesty. It can help to have an experienced guide to show us the way.

No matter where you are on your quest of self-discovery, I admire your courage for continuing to forge ahead.

Onward!

Affectionately,

Elaine