Therapy Has Become Too Comfortable. And That's Why Too Many People Never Recover.

I appreciate that may not be an easy thing to take, particularly from someone whose profession is therapy. It's also a statement that many therapists will disagree with. And that's ok.

Nevertheless, after years of working with people whose lives have been restricted by anxiety, trauma and loss of confidence, I've become increasingly convinced that parts of the profession have moved away from the very thing they were supposed to achieve. Too much emphasis is now placed on making people feel understood, validated and accepted, and not enough on whether they're actually getting their lives back.

I recognise that feeling heard matters. Compassion matters. Being listened to by someone who genuinely understands your experience is important, particularly if you've spent years feeling dismissed or judged. But those things are not the objective of therapy. They are simply part of the process. The objective is recovery. If someone leaves every session feeling supported, but months later is still avoiding the same situations, is still making decisions based on fear and is still allowing anxiety to dictate the boundaries of their life, then I don't think we should congratulate ourselves on a successful therapeutic relationship. We should be asking why nothing meaningful has changed.

One of the reasons I think this happens is because today's culture dictates discomfort is not only undesirable, but unnecessary. But actually, discomfort is the only route to progression. you achieve nothing by staying in the same spot and avoiding it. Not only do you remain wallowing in pity and nihilism that is unattractive at best, but your discomfort will actually grow, making your avoidance of discomfort the thing that actually makes it worse!

I understand why somebody avoids getting back on a horse after a serious fall. I understand why someone who has experienced trauma can become reluctant to fly, drive, compete or even leave the house. Understanding those behaviours is important. And its always the same thing, the ancient part of the brain that is only concerned with your survival compels you to not do anything its decided might harm you. But fear, anxiety, depression, addiction, never helped anyone, they are all only designed as avoidance strategies.

From the brain's perspective, avoidance is entirely logical. The brain's primary responsibility is not your happiness, your fulfilment or your success. It's survival. And if avoiding something appears to reduce distress, even temporarily, the brain records that as useful information. The next time a similar situation arises, it predicts that avoidance is once again the safest option. Repeat that process often enough and the prediction becomes increasingly convincing. Eventually, people begin to believe they are avoiding because they genuinely can't cope, when in reality they're avoiding because their brain has become extremely efficient at predicting that they won't.

This is where I think older styles of therapy sometimes mistake explanation for resolution. I meet people who can explain every aspect of their anxiety. They know exactly where it began. They understand their attachment style, their childhood experiences, their triggers and their coping mechanisms. They have remarkable insight into their own psychology. Yet they remain prisoners of exactly the same patterns they could describe in such detail. Insight is valuable, but insight alone changes very little. The brain isn't interested in how well you understand your reactions. It's interested in whether its prediction and the reactions it creates, continues to appear accurate.

That distinction matters because understanding and recovery are not interchangeable. I understand perfectly why someone is frightened of competing after a rotational fall. I understand why a soldier remains hypervigilant after combat or why somebody who has experienced betrayal struggles to trust another partner. None of that, in itself, alters the automatic predition their brain makes the next time they encounter a similar situation.

Recovery only begins when that prediction changes.

This is also why I'm increasingly concerned by the amount of reassurance people receive. Reassurance feels kind. It feels supportive. Sometimes it is exactly what's needed. However, reassurance can also become another form of avoidance if it simply reduces today's anxiety without addressing tomorrow's prediction. Telling someone not to push themselves, to wait until they feel ready or to continue avoiding situations that make them anxious may provide immediate relief, but relief and recovery are not synonyms. Anxiety has no interest in telling you when you're ready. Anxiety predicts danger. Asking anxiety whether you should get back on your horse is rather like asking your smoke alarm whether you should make toast. It has one job, and it performs that job exceptionally well.

Perhaps some readers may think I lack compassion. I'd argue the opposite. I think real compassion sometimes involves saying things people would rather not hear. It involves believing that somebody is capable of more than their current patterns would suggest. It involves refusing to mistake understandable behaviour for permanent limitation. Above all, it means refusing to go along with the idea that because the brain has learned a prediction, that prediction must be correct.

One of the greatest disservices we can do to another human being is to lower our expectations of what they might one day become. I don't say that because I underestimate the impact of trauma, anxiety or adversity. I say it because I've seen the numbers I have of people reclaining their lives they were frightened had gone forever. They didn't do it because someone repeatedly reassured them that their avoidance made sense. They did it because, BWRT changed their brain's automatic prediction. Once that happened, their reaction changed effortlessly.

So yes, I do think that apart from BWRT, therapy has become too comfortable. Comfort has become confused with progress. Validation has become confused with recovery. Insight has become confused with change. Perhaps we should be asking whether a profession that often measures success in months or years of therapy is naturally resistant to approaches that aim to make themselves unnecessary as quickly as possible.

I don't want clients to leave therapy simply feeling better about why they can't live the life they want. I want them living it. That's the standard I hold myself and them to, and I don't think it's an unreasonable one. If therapy isn't ultimately about restoring freedom, then I have to ask a difficult question.

What exactly is it for?