I got a spectacular compliment from a patient yesterday who told me, “You don’t look like most therapists. They all look like church ladies.” I thanked them and then had to chuckle as I remembered something one of my supervisors told the female interns last year at my internship. It seems there’s this belief that therapists need to look dowdy. Ever the rebel, of course, I totally disagree.
I’m a bit younger than Cindy Lauper, though not by much. She’s my hero. I love her zero-fucks attitude even now at age 70. She is and always has been authentic. This is what I admire the most about her. The compliment I received yesterday that I didn’t look like a church-lady took me back to that moment at my internship. And I thought, “hallelujah!” I was right all along. I can still be “me” and still be an effective therapist. It was a truly serendipitous moment. I thought of her and this picture, and it just felt good.
My internship was in a well-known hospital and I worked in their behavioral health outpatient services. We were anticipating a visit from Joint Commission, the not-for-profit, governing body that gives accreditation to about 22,000 health care organizations in the United States. It makes sure that hospitals uphold the highest standards in providing safe, high quality health care.
We had been preparing for a week: cleaning up cluttered desks and communal areas, checking patient files for accuracy and timeliness, making sure there were no hazardous walkways, making sure all employee water bottles were airtight (yes, they can’t have straws or spill if tipped over). Everyone gets very jittery when Joint-Co makes their annual visit, everyone must be on their toes. And this female supervisor — whom I greatly respected and admired — announced to the four of us female therapist interns that we should “dress like Grandmas”.
Those of you who don’t know me must know that if I could get away with it, I’d wear fishnet stockings and a snakeskin leather skirt every day of my life complete with leather jackets, black choker and a thick line of eyeliner. As it is, I have eyelash extensions and hair that is colored a mixture of purple and candy-apple red. I wear hairspray. I never leave the house without makeup, I get my nails done (almost always a glitter color with rhinestones added). I smell good. I have a Monroe lip piercing and about 20 tattoos. I am a middle child happily expressing myself, eschewing conformity every chance I get.
The outfit that got me the compliment yesterday was a black knit dress with layered ruffles at the bottom, 3/4 sleeves that expose my tattoos, burgundy glitter tights and combat boots. It looks great with my red leather jacket.
I want you to know that I DO have a closet full of cardigans, the de rigeur item of clothing for any therapist worth their licensing. I do wear them — occasionally — and it’s usually paired with a dress many would consider a cocktail dress minus the visible cleavage. Not exactly something most peoples’ grandmothers would wear at work. But hey, that’s just me. I just can’t help but wonder why everyone seems to subscribe to this belief that therapists need to look and dress like stereotypically conservative grandmothers and church ladies.
Part of any therapists’ training is the understanding that there is something called the “therapeutic bond” that is (hopefully) created between therapist and patient. The patient needs to trust their therapist, and feel safe in their presence, and know that they have their best interests always at heart. And I believe that the best way for me to earn my patient’s trust is to be my most authentic self with them. Being a therapist to me isn’t putting on a costume and pretending to be someone I’m not. After all, aren’t I asking my client to be THEIR authentic self?
The idea of a therapist being a blank slate (“tabula rasa”) originated from Freud, who felt that therapists should not reveal any part of themselves to their patients, that it was better for them to be able to project their own needs, desires and beliefs onto their therapists. We are taught that personal disclosure must always be for the clients’ benefit, not the therapists, and I think that is how the “dressing like a grandma” belief came into being, that slacks and a cardigan are as nondescript and revealing as scrubs. But I just know that if I were made to wear scrubs, I’d be the one with neon pink glitter Crocs. I just can’t dress conservatively, it’s not in my DNA. It hasn’t been since I was 14 years old when I’d change clothes at school into my friends’ borrowed tube top and ply on the blue eye shadow. My mother never knew.
I’ve only been a licensed therapist a few months, but I’ve been “me” for a lot longer, and so far, it seems to be a non-issue. No one has ever scolded me for the way I dress, I’ve never been reprimanded or “talked to”. In fact I’ve always gotten a lot of compliments and I think it’s because I’m just super comfortable in my own skin. I’m old — maybe I’m “cute for my age”. Haha. Idk, I guess I just feel confident and secure and it honestly never occurs to me that I’m “out there”, I’m just me.
I like to think that my sincerity and genuineness is as obvious as my nonconformity, and that it communicates someone who has an open mind; someone who is accepting and nonjudgmental. And quite possibly, someone you can trust with your deepest secrets and scariest emotions.
I have a deep suspicion that once I’m fully licensed (I’m currently working on my 3000 training hours) and have my own cute little office, I will rock those fishnets. I’ve got my studded rocker belts at the readyMy office might even have a Green Day poster in it. If I have to dress like a grandma, it will be a rebellious one.
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