Am I weak for seeing a psychologist?

I had an article ready for today about the dangers of antidepressants, but after a little debate I had yesterday with a couple of people, I simply can’t avoid bringing this up here. I don’t remember how the conversation started, but suddenly I found myself hearing: “People who go to a psychologist are weak”, and the third person in the conversation backing up the comment: “Life is hard and you have to toughen up. It can’t all be a bed of roses. I’ve been through things and I’ve never seen a psychologist. You have to learn to deal with the hard times in life.”

Sometimes I hear utter nonsense about psychologists, or psychology in general. Depending on my mood, the comment itself, who’s there and my relationship with them, I’ll either bother to give my opinion or not. And I’ll be more or less forceful about it. In this case, the comment bothered me enough to fight that battle.

Let’s start from the fact that, in Spain, we’re still at the back of the queue when it comes to psychology. Comments like the ones I heard yesterday reflect a widespread belief in our country. Less and less so, but still. This doesn’t happen in the US, Canada or the UK, among others, where psychology is given the credibility it deserves, in line with all the scientific research behind it. It’s true that psychology is a relatively young science compared with others, but being less well known doesn’t make it any less valid. The reality, however, is that being less well known breeds more scepticism. Lack of knowledge or ignorance about a subject always goes hand in hand with prejudice. Holding on tight. People who believe that those who go to therapy are weak are simply basing that claim on prejudice. Scratch the surface a little, as I did yesterday, and you leave them with no grounds at all.

Someone not going to a psychologist doesn’t mean, not by a long shot, that they’re stronger than someone who sees a professional. Since when is recognising a problem and asking for help a sign of weakness? I’ve said it more than once:

• First, you need to be intelligent, brave and honest to admit that you have a problem.
• Second, you need to be both humble and intelligent to recognise your own limits at a given moment and admit that, at some point, you may not know how to solve the situation on your own. You tried, but it didn’t work.
• Finally, you need to be very brave to ask a stranger for help, and strong to set out on the tough process that therapy involves. Because, let’s not kid ourselves, going through therapy can be a real “pain”.

The person who has a problem and doesn’t ask for help is not stronger than the one who admits the problem and asks for it. More resistant, perhaps, but not stronger. And resistance isn’t necessarily positive; it depends on what you’re resisting. In fact, a large share of the problems I see in my practice come from people having held out for longer than they could. Sweeping the dust under the carpet isn’t the same as cleaning it.

As I said yesterday: “What grounds do you have for claiming that a patient of mine is weak? You know absolutely nothing about this person and yet, just because they see a psychologist, you take it for granted that they’re weak. What is that, if not prejudice?”

Each of us has had our own luck in life, our own circumstances, upbringing, family, environment, biology… Not all of us have been given the same tools to cope with life, and we don’t all react the same way to the same problem, but that doesn’t mean we can generalise and call someone “weak” when they’re very probably far more capable than you or me in many other areas.

I’m not saying you won’t find weak people in a psychologist’s office; what I’m saying is that you wouldn’t find a higher proportion there than outside. Asking for help shouldn’t be considered a criterion for defining a human being’s weakness or strength. A measure of resistance, perhaps, but not of strength.

Then came the best part of the conversation: “For example, when they call you in after a plane crash or a disaster, what’s a psychologist going to do in that situation? If your son or your wife has died, what’s a psychologist going to do? Give you advice?” (Luckily the wall was too far away, or I’d have banged my head against it.) And this is where I come back to what I was saying earlier about the ignorance and prejudice surrounding psychology in general. Not only regarding the role of the patient, but also the role of the psychologist and what they do. Because in the end it’s all the same thread: if you think a psychologist’s role is to give you advice the way a friend would, it’s perfectly understandable that you’d be prejudiced against those who “pay to be given advice” (note the sarcasm).

The conversation went on longer, but I think I’ve given a good summary of it. Just something for us to reflect on, because unfortunately these two people’s opinion is representative of a large majority. Food for thought.