The Tyranny of Healing (and How I Missed the Point)

It all started with a debate between Freud and Adler.

Freud, the patron saint of introspection, believed your present self is simply a sum of your past. Your behaviours? Past. Your fears? Past. Your weird relationship with authority? Definitely past. His idea of therapy was: revisit, unearth, dig, unbox—heal. You couldn’t move forward without first going backwards.

Adler, meanwhile, was more about the now. He agreed the past shaped you, sure, but his focus was on what you do with it today. He believed people strived for meaning, for belonging, for significance—and that healing came through building a life with purpose, not dwelling on old wounds.

I didn’t know this then, but I was living the Freud vs Adler debate in my own therapy journey.

It began in 2020. The pandemic made everything foggy. I reached out to a friend in the mental health space and got myself a therapist. Let’s call them Therapist 001. We had a few sessions. Therapist 001 told me I had grown up in an environment that wasn’t entirely fair. It tracked. But after one session where I talked candidly about money, Therapist 001 increased their rates.

The timing was weird. It felt like a breach of trust. One moment I was unravelling childhood memory knots, and the next I was being sent a revised invoice.

So, I moved on. They say therapy is like dating. You have to try a few before it sticks.

Therapist 002 took Freud’s side—hard. I would talk about my week, and they’d always circle back with, “Why do you think that is?” Then came the diagnoses. Intense ones. Diagnoses that didn’t match what I was experiencing. I left.

Disillusioned, I downloaded the syllabi that therapists and psychologists studied. I thought if I just understood the theories, I could fix myself. But all I did was intellectualise my feelings. I was learning, sure. But nothing was changing.

So I tried a life coach. 2022. He was good. Grounded. Less focused on diagnosing, more on talking. I drifted—not because of him. Just... life.

Then came Therapist 003. The self-improvement gal. She was all “highest self” and “protect your peace.” The Jennifer Aniston from Cougar Town character. Journals, vision boards, routines, and affirmations. And for a moment, I was in. I was her. I was every version of the girlboss trend, minus the coffee sponsorship.

And then I wasn’t.

One morning, I realised: I’d iced out a close friend in the name of boundaries. I was spending more time planning a balanced meal than meeting a deadline. I was busy looking at a vision board instead of doing anything about it. I was repeating affirmations like I was starring in a Goop ad.

I had gone too far.

And here’s the kicker: Nothing she said was wrong. I still do affirmations. I still visualise. I still believe you can speak it true. But the tracking, the ruminating, the constant reflection? It stole the moment from me.

It became a task when I was fixating on it. Every reaction I had was over-analysed. I confronted things that didn’t need confrontation. It became this entire process of healing without allowing for new wounds.

I was so busy healing old wounds, I forgot to allow space for new ones. And sometimes, those new wounds are necessary. Not every bad day is a signal to stop and fix something. Some days, you fall.

And as Alfred from Batman says: "Why do we fall Bruce? So that we can learn to pick ourselves up"

Sometimes, wounds drive. They instruct. Anger is useful. So is competition. We’re not here to be perpetually serene monks. We’re human. Emotions exist for a reason. The problem isn’t sadness. It’s when sadness morphs into a consuming depression. The problem isn’t anger. It’s when it erupts and harms. But a bad week doesn’t mean you need fixing.

Everything’s labelled now. Every emotion is categorised. Every behaviour is scrutinised. But some days, I don’t want to reflect. I just want to eat toast in bed and watch Brooklyn Nine-Nine for the fifth time this year. And yes, I know what the internet says. It’s either ADHD or unresolved trauma that’s making me rewatch the same show. Maybe. Or maybe there’s just too much to choose from and I’m tired. Now, even my entertainment needs optimisation? I'm feeling floopy—what show should I watch?

We wanted healing. We got homework.

But maybe healing isn’t in the tracking. Maybe it’s in the letting go. In doing less. In trusting that we’re not broken puzzles to be solved, but humans who sometimes need a snack, a walk, a friend, or a laugh.

Maybe the smartest thing isn’t to fix yourself constantly. Maybe it’s to live anyway.

Even when you're not your Highest Self. Even when you're just floopy. Even when the vision board is dusty.

Especially then.

Here’s a thought: maybe therapy isn’t for everyone. Or at least, not all the time. Maybe the $150 per session doesn’t always generate returns. Which brings us to economics.

Therapy, like any other service, can be viewed through the lens of diminishing marginal utility. The first few sessions might be revelatory—cathartic even. But as time goes on, the gains may reduce. For some, therapy remains a constant benefit. For others, the cost outweighs the marginal emotional return.

Or consider the substitution effect: if another activity brings you the same relief or better—say, dancing, journaling, religious rituals, or even watching a show with someone who gets you—then that becomes your therapy. The individual, in this case, is not irrational. They’re simply choosing the option that maximises well-being in that moment.

We are not one-size-fits-all beings. Healing isn’t a funnel. It’s a forest. Everyone moves differently.

So let’s normalise that. Let’s normalise trying and leaving. Let’s normalise moving from Freud to Adler to dancing in your living room at 2 am. Let’s normalise being okay sometimes. Not perfect. Just okay.

Healing is not a homework assignment. It’s a life. And you’re allowed to live it—wounded, wonderful, and wildly unfinished.

Disclaimer: Everyone is different. Do you.

P.S. Thank you to my girls, who have been my unpaid therapists for years now. SL, AK, SV, EM, HJ, — I love you.