Friends, colleagues, the media, they sound like they've decided that therapy, and its speak, has gone too far. Which could leave you wondering: do I actually need to go, or should I be British about it and get a grip?
The talk about talk has got a little loud, a little too often and definitely too much. Trauma is everyone's slightly sticky week. There are plenty of narcissists around, but that many, really? Is there enough ink in production for everyone to keep redrawing their boundaries?
I'll fold my arms and join in, because if that's what therapy looks like to you, I agree.
We all love a good debate. We weigh it up, say we can see both sides, then quietly pick one anyway. You've picked. Therapy's overdone. Thank goodness I haven't gone soft.
But what has that done for the quiet question? The one that has you searching, still there, still making a point. Is this big enough to take to a therapist, or am I making a mountain out of a molehill?
If it's neither a mountain nor a molehill, perhaps it's something in between.
But naming the in-between, sizing it, pinning it down, just puts you back in the argument. Back weighing it up, back wondering if you're soft. Back everywhere except to the feeling itself, the worry, the thing you do often and keep noticing.
Let's not. Let's not spend our time on a listicle of speak, the kind that adds a tapping foot to the crossed arms.
This isn't about broken, or fixed, or small, medium, large. It's different. It's about you. About whether you want to spend some of your time looking at it, with someone.