We all teeter on the edge of fear when it comes to some of the bigger questions: What does it feel like to be me? Why is this happening to me? What do I actually want?
Sometimes it is that fear, rather than an illness or diagnosis, that brings us to therapy in the first place.
My approach brings together the scientific traditions of Western psychology with philosophical concepts found in the East. This way of thinking about therapy has also been shaped by my father, Shomit Mitter, whose own work explored the meeting point between Eastern philosophy and Western therapeutic practice, and from whom I inherited an early curiosity about what might be possible when we allow those traditions to speak to one another. I believe deeply in the importance of evidence, research and our growing understanding of the brain; but I also think there is more to our existence than what we can see, measure or prove, and somehow we need to leave room for this in the care we seek out for ourselves.
Human beings have been trying to understand their inner worlds for thousands of years. We have done it through science and medicine, but also through philosophy, stories, relationships, spirituality, art and the endless conversations we have with ourselves and one another. Therapy, to me, belongs somewhere within that much larger conversation.
It doesn’t always need to begin with the assumption that something has gone wrong. It can also be a place for curiosity; somewhere to understand yourself more deeply, loosen patterns that no longer serve you, and perhaps become a little clearer about where you would actually like to go next.
If we want to be able to truly shift our perception, it’s important to make it a desirable choice for the frightened mind. Desirable doesn’t just mean to play into what one could call the ego-driven want for a solution to our “issues”. Desirable, to the psyche, means safe. Change – therapy – needs to feel safe, even perhaps enjoyable, and in the best cases, playful. Enticing the frightened mind with the prospect of gentle joy is going to gain far greater access to the inner world than a blundering, loud, inconsiderately militant need for the answer to our perceived problems. We are not “broken”, we do not need “fixing”; there is no “problem” to be “solved”. We are made up of many characters, and these characters are experiencing our lives. Sometimes, it hurts, and we get stuck. You don’t have to punish those inner characters – and yourself – for getting stuck, you just need a map, and a guide, whilst you get yourself from where you are to where you would like to be.