Recently, I read an article in VF about how armchair therapists should keep their psychobabble to themselves. We were also described as some of the most selfish people known and the ones who almost singlehandedly provide ammunition for people who weaponize terms like ‘compartmentalizing’ and other therapy-speak instead of using them for self-correction. That critique made me think hard about what I am actually saying and why.
Now, don’t misunderstand me. I enjoyed the article. That is why I am choosing to respond in my own little world, TDGJ. (There’s the ego everyone warned you about.)
What threw me the most was the assertion that we believe our emotional intelligence makes us morally superior. I gagged. The reason I am so deeply connected to the emotional fabric of being human is that, for so long, I operated completely ignorant of how my decisions affected others but acutely aware of how I felt about their behavior. I justified some truly immature actions based on how I felt, ignoring the far-reaching repercussions of what I’d done. My healing journey has been as much about accountability as anything else.
I have said countless times now that this particular venture was born of a divine nudge. I was not looking for a way to memorialize healing; the process is ugly and cyclical. It’s like videotaping childbirth—eww and awe-inspiring, all at once.
Yet, in the age of social media, where the good is highlighted and emotional appeals hijack the algorithms, I wanted to create a space where those who live real life can gather safely. We can celebrate the good and find support when life is heavy. A place where we know patience grows as we encounter the same lesson until we finally demonstrate we’ve learned it. That doesn’t make me an armchair therapist. It makes me a woman seeking to gain and share wisdom with those who desire the same.
I can’t control people who read my story and pervert it for their own malicious intent. Why should I be for fear of being associated with the egotistical healers who use the gift of their journey to pad their pockets instead of birthing life in others?
I am a planter. My ideas and suggestions are seeds that God allows me to plant in spaces I inhabit, both personal and professional. One plants, one waters, and God increases. I refuse to stop seeding because a bad farmer might be reading.
And get this- I am imperfect. I am not morally superior, and I still make choices that sometimes make me cringe. Still, I press on, and I am bringing with me anyone who desires to love themselves enough to know they can be more. Not because Effie is better, smarter, or happier- but because a DreamGirl is a girl’s girl who wants to lift us all as she learns. And I keep score against the woman I used to be. How else will I know when to celebrate how much I’ve grown?
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