Therapists Are Not God

Three months after my then husband’s first disclosure we started working with a couple’s therapist; one that came highly regarded. I was grateful to have a therapy team in motion. His presence in our marital home had grown more unpredictable than before disclosure. I would go weeks without seeing him. Business travel and commitments beyond his norm. When I asked for details, he described the nature of the travel, who he was with, where they were having dinner and all the business talk in between. He would be pleasant one moment, anxiety ridden and irritable the next, to inconsolable with no plausible explanation that he wanted to discuss. Everything I was reading at the time said big emotions were normal for early recovery. But this wasn’t sitting right. I started journaling our conversations and difficult moments so I could later process them on paper. I wanted to bring these moments to therapy. I wanted to understand why he was still not coming home and someone to validate this completely valid concern. If he was committed to recovery, why wasn’t he here?

 During one particular couple’s session, I ran to grab my journal so I could read a few entries to our therapist. I had been given the floor to explain my concerns for his absence in our home, just three months after a six-year affair disclosure. I read the entries rapidly and all over the place. Flipping through pages pausing only to breathe, trying to get it all out before my then husband could grow irritable over what I had written; accountability floating off the pages. The therapist asked me to take a pause. He asked us to take a breath. And I did. I felt relief wash over me. My eyes returned to the zoom screen, and the therapist had just one response for me, “I think you are being judgmental.”

 I still close my eyes tight when I read that. I still see younger me sitting on my couch and feeling the tears I worked so hard to otherwise control on a regular basis, fall to my pajamas. My eyes left the zoom screen. The session ended. My then husband asked if I wanted to go get lunch. Lunch. I walked out to our front porch to cry and silent scream.

 Two months later and one month prior to our separation, I found our individual CSATs. Specialists. I believed we needed specialists. I had one check in session with my then husband’s CSAT as they prepared for full disclosure. He told me my then husband was one of his best clients. He had read all the books. He did all his homework. He went to group and individual therapy. And I scheduled this call to ask his CSAT about my feeling off. About not feeling quite right as his partner, now in separation, and the speed at which I was experiencing my then husband moving through recovery. I wanted to discuss questions I had about recovery milestones. But it was readily apparent the therapist was not open to expanding on my concerns. The call ended, and left me with the all too familiar thought from our prior therapy sessions, “what just happened?”

 Six months into CSAT work my then husband’s second affair disclosure came out; another secret life. A life he was living through all of his sex addiction therapy work to date. A life he was living when the couple’s therapist told me I was being judgmental. When the CSAT claimed my then husband was his top client. He lied through all of it.

 Dear partner, I bring this part of my story into the light, so you are a prepared, educated, and an empowered partner. So you use your voice and continue to seek a quality therapy experience with you in mind.

I also emphasize, there are good therapists. There are amazing therapists. I worked with a handful of them on my therapy journey. Unfortunately, working with a cyclic presentation of manipulation, lying, and love-bombing, requires consistent expertise to see, pursue, and treat the reality at hand.

 Here is an invaluable list of considerations for your therapy journey to ensure you, the partner, are seen, heard, and valued:

· Consider working with a partner certified CSAT, or an APSAT. Their training is specifically partner-centered. They are equipped to see you as a whole person, with your own trauma, trauma responses, and healing journey.

· Consider asking for routine check-ins with your spouse’s individual therapist to discuss therapy goals, recovery progress, and your up-to-date experiences of doing life while in recovery. In addition, bring any concerns you may have regarding recovery progress. Discuss these concerns in your own therapy session so you are confident and prepared for the check-in.

· Consider asking for recovery goals and milestones from your therapy team. The recovery journey looks different for every individual and every couple. Understanding what recovery is, and what recovery is not, is important. Having tangible goals and milestones to meet individually and together as a couple is extremely important to be sure you, your spouse and therapy team are all on the same page.

· Consider being open to new therapists if you do not feel you are being supported or making progress. I had quality experiences as a partner with a CSAT and an APSAT coach. Both offered me the opportunity to build my own goals and valued my needs for my own recovery. I moved on from working with both when I met those goals and felt equipped to continue my recovery journey on my own with God, my family, and my trusted inner circle.

· Consider taking a pause from therapy. I would show up to some sessions with no words or the same words I had spoken sessions before. I would show up depleted and wanting to be filled, and leave still feeling entirely empty. Therapy burnout is real. Consider taking a break and doing something new for that one hour for your mind and physical well-being. Consider taking a walk in nature, a drop-in visit to a yoga or exercise class, or a coffee date with a friend. Give yourself permission to take a break. You are still therapeutically caring for yourself outside a therapy session.

Dear partner, therapists are not God.  The expectation for me after disclosure was therapy equals treatment, and treatment equals recovery. May we remember that while experts do exist, our stories are incredibly layered, challenging, and therefore deserve the utmost care. May we see ourselves as a whole person; a person who advocates for our safety, our needs, our expectations, and our own recovery. May we acknowledge there is a second person in our story. A person that must show up. A person that must choose their own recovery.