Therapy is for the strong, not the weak.

And the idea that it tries to dig into your childhood to push some magic cathartic button is about 30 years out of date.

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Say the word therapy, and it conjures up images of a tearful soul lying prone on a chaise lounge, tissues at the ready.

At the same time, some pipe-smoking bearded Freud doppelgänger nods sagely, searching for meaning with questions like, “How did your mother dress?” and then tries to convince you that anything that you used in your life that was cylindrical was a subconscious symbol of a penis.  

For many, therapy conjures images of endless whining, stewing in misery, and picking at emotional scabs as if wallowing in one’s pain were inherently curative. 

This is rubbish. Utter rubbish. It is an amalgam of dated therapeutic cliches and too many movies where this is how therapy is portrayed.  But therapy is neither a pastime for the self-indulgent nor an emotional bog where one endlessly flounders in self-pity. Nor is a dipping of a skinny hand into the black recesses of the soul in the hope that a button can be found, an emotional wire reconnected. It is a structured, goal-oriented process requiring courage, commitment, and—heaven forbid—discipline. It is neither a “safe space” to wallow nor an emotional toilet that is filled and flushed at the end of the session. 

Much of the misunderstanding comes from the myth of catharsis. This idea—that unloading your emotional baggage is, in and of itself, the solution—is a relic from the early days of psychoanalysis. Venting can feel lovely, like popping the cork on a bottle of fizzy water shaken to its limits. But the problem is not solved simply because you’ve “gotten it off your chest.” The water is still there, spread out, and needs to be wiped up. 

Modern therapy, in its more evolved form, has largely dispensed with this notion. It’s no longer about endlessly dissecting your woes under the dubious premise that deeper understanding will magically set you free. Understanding, you see, is only step one. What truly matters is action. Therapy today is about progress, not paralysis.

Enter Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT): The Pragmatist’s Approach

If therapy were a political ideology, Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) would surely be the pragmatist’s choice. It is solution-oriented, grounded in practicality rather than endless introspection. It moves forward.  

CBT operates on a simple but revolutionary premise: how you think directly affects your feelings and behaviour. Change your thoughts, and you can change your life.

CBT is not some self-help brochure slapped on the cover of a paperback in garish font. It is rooted in decades of rigorous research. It is the antithesis of wallowing and endless emotional excavation with no clear end. Instead, CBT equips individuals with tools—strategies, techniques, and practical methods—to address their challenges head-on.

Consider, for instance, someone struggling with crippling anxiety. A traditional therapist of yesteryear might have explored their childhood ad nauseam, searching for the origins of their fear as if that would somehow remove those fears. CBT, on the other hand, focuses on the here and now. What thoughts are triggering the anxiety? Are these thoughts rational or distorted by cognitive biases like catastrophising or black-and-white thinking? And most importantly, how can these patterns be changed?

CBT is, in many ways, the engineer’s therapy—or at least one Dan Akroyd in Dragnet, with his Joe Friday-inspired “Just the facts, Ma’am,” would have endorsed. The link is below. If you are under 30, forget it.

Just The Facts Ma'am

It’s about identifying faulty mechanisms, fixing them, and moving forward. There are no endless discussions about your dreams or what your subconscious is trying to tell you—just practical steps, grounded in evidence, to help you get on with life.

Another myth is that therapy is for the weak. Therapy, particularly in its modern forms, is not for the faint of heart. It is not a crutch for the timid or an indulgence for the emotionally fragile. 

Therapy is, in fact, for the courageous.

It takes courage to sit with a therapist and confront one’s flaws, fears, and failures. It is far easier to remain in denial, blame the world, distract oneself, wallow in an addiction or listen to the meaningless noise of modern life. Therapy demands accountability. It requires one to say, “Yes, my circumstances may be difficult, but I am responsible for my actions, reactions, and future.”

It isn’t easy.  CBT requires patients to confront their fears directly. Someone with social anxiety may be tasked with striking up conversations with strangers. Someone with obsessive-compulsive tendencies may need to resist their compulsions, enduring the discomfort that follows. 

The beauty of modern therapy lies in its forward momentum. It is not about marinating in the past or endlessly pondering “why” things are how they are. While some insight is undoubtedly valuable, the emphasis is on what now? The past can’t be changed. 

This is a crucial shift. Life marches inexorably forward, after all. When done well, therapy aligns with this reality. It focuses on building skills, fostering resilience, and creating a roadmap for a better future. At its core, therapy is a partnership—a collaboration between therapist and client to identify goals, devise strategies, and execute them.

And this is where the true power of therapy lies. It is not in the catharsis of unburdening oneself, though that can be a helpful starting point. It is in the discipline of changing thoughts, breaking habits, and building a life that aligns with one’s values and aspirations.

Despite all this, therapy remains widely misunderstood. Too many still view it as a last resort, a desperate measure for the deeply troubled. Others dismiss it as indulgent navel-gazing. And then there are those who, having dabbled in therapy without fully committing, proclaim it ineffective—much like someone attending one gym session and whining about not having a six-pack. 

The fault lies partly with popular culture. Films and television often depict therapy as a melodramatic exercise in emotional outpouring, devoid of structure or purpose. And let us not even begin to discuss the proliferation of “pop psychology,” which reduces complex therapeutic principles to Instagram-ready platitudes. TikTok pathologises existence, diagnosing new mental health syndromes in thirty seconds or less, encouraging diagnosis tourism.

One popular diagnosis is Big 3 Zodiac Anxiety,” which blames mental distress on cosmic misalignment. 

In today’s world, where stress and mental health challenges are on the rise, therapy has never been more relevant. But its effectiveness hinges on our understanding of what it truly is—and what it is not. Therapy is not a passive process. It is not about sitting back and letting someone else “fix” you. Nor is it a one-size-fits-all solution.

Good therapy requires active participation, a willingness to confront uncomfortable truths, and a commitment to change. It is work—challenging, messy, and often slow. But the rewards are profound for those willing to put in the effort.

So, to those who still view therapy as little more than an exercise in self-pity, I say this: grow up. Therapy is not about wallowing in pain; it is about rising above it. It is not for the weak; it is for the brave. And it is not about endlessly looking backwards but moving forward.

In short, therapy is a testament to the human capacity for growth and resilience. And if you can’t see that, well, perhaps you’re the one who ought to give it a try.