After my first year at school, I was given a bicycle. My father helped me balance, first holding the saddle, then running beside me for a few steps. I learned to ride.
Three years later, we moved somewhere new. The road wound down a hill, and one day I fell on a bend. I was badly hurt and slid across the gravel.
After that, I was frightened to ride. I could manage a straight line, but when I tried to turn, I lost control and fell. I did not ride for forty years.
Eventually I needed to ride again. One of my students decided to teach me — or rather, to help me learn again. He ran behind me for five kilometres, until I stopped being afraid and began to feel confident on the road.
The first time, a few steps with my father beside me had been enough. After the accident, someone else had to run alongside me for five kilometres.
I already knew how to ride. But turning had become associated with falling and pain. I needed repeated experiences of something different: I turn, and I do not fall. Again. And again. Someone is beside me. I can do this.
For me, this is a metaphor for how change can sometimes happen in therapy. You may understand why you respond in a certain way before you feel able to respond differently. New experiences can take time to become familiar.
This story does not determine how many meetings you will need. We discuss your concerns, goals, pace, and next steps together.