I parked my car. Looking around the complex, I searched for the suite number that matched where I was supposed to be going. Suite 320. I quickly found my destination but realized I should use the restroom before heading in. Head tilted to the left, then to the right, twisting around in all directions, I finally found the small sign with an arrow indicating the restroom was just down the hall. I remember the smell was nice when I opened the door, like I had just walked into a shop that specialized in homemade pumpkin spice candles. There was pleasant music playing in the background, and there were fresh cut flowers sitting in a vase of water at the corner of the bathroom counter. The ambiance was impeccable. There was intention in every detail.

I washed my hands, and made my way to the waiting room. The same music played throughout the small room full of chairs and couches. To ensure your comfort, there were small bowls of chocolate and a coffee station to help lessen the chances of your getting tired before your appointment. All details had been thought through to ensure your senses were at ease and your soul open.

It was quiet and nobody spoke, hiding in silence behind magazines or phones. There was a sense of shame that permeated the room. I flipped aimlessly through a magazine, making small glances upward to see what was happening around me. Time passed as I listened to the flipping of pages and the tick of the clock. It wasn’t long before I found myself wondering what she was in for? What about him? “What had life brought on that made them seek out a counselor?” I thought to myself.

The room felt awkward. It was as if we had all committed crimes, and we were there to shamefully confess our sins. Each person was there hiding her own secrets, cast away from society to the confines of this waiting room because we were all just too much, with our problems, our emotions, our too-much-ness.

I hated it. It felt shameful…and lonely. The music was nice, the smell was pleasant, the decor was new and welcoming…but it felt unfamiliar and odd.

And this was just my experience in the waiting room. I hadn’t even made it into the office where I’d sit on a couch and spill my deepest emotions to a complete stranger.

Although I have always felt uncomfortable in counseling offices, this particular time was a certain kind of uncomfortable. This is when I had finally decided it just wasn’t for me.

I’m not sure if it was my own lingering insecurities or being there that made me insecure. It felt weird though. Sleazy almost. Like I was doing something I hoped nobody would see me doing, which is really odd because you’d think at this point in my life, I’d be used to the fact that having attempted suicide as a teen makes me almost immune to the stigma of counseling. Like you have to be a certain level of crazy to make it socially okay to frequent counseling offices (and…well, I fit the criteria). But I still didn’t like it.

It’s taken me a long time to put my finger on what I didn’t like about counseling, and this is the conclusion I have come to.

There is no end game.

Am I right?! How many people do you know that have gone to counseling for years and years, and nothing in their life has changed? But isn’t that the point? Change? To get better…to be better?

Look, I’m a doer. I like to get in, find solutions, get shit done, and get out.

Maybe it’s just me, but I don’t want to spend years of my life reflecting on all the messed up things that have happened to me or talking about things that will never change. I don’t want to stay pinned under the boulder of emotion that holds me back from becoming the person I am meant to be. Do you?

As emotional beings we can talk about problems until we are blue in the face, but for anything to change, we have to start DOING things differently. Not talking about it. Doing it.

This is why I became a life coach.

To guide people away from just talking about their problems and their past and making excuses about why they can’t do things. Instead, we, as life coaches, focus on goals and implement real strategies to achieve those goals. We measure improvement and fine tune what works and what doesn’t so there is an end game. Because the end game is all that really matters.

Questions for you to ponder:

Are you a talker or are you a doer?

Have you ever considered your end game?

What are your thoughts on counseling?

Share your comments below…it’s okay if you disagree with me. I’m not crazy anymore and won’t take it personal 😉