Welcome to my misadventure in the wild world of psychology class, where I temporarily donned the hat of a therapist, and, spoiler alert, it was less of a hat and more of a clown’s cap.

Act One: The Reluctant Hero Takes the Stage

It all began on a typical day in our practical class, where the only practical thing turned out to be a lesson in humility. Our professor, acting as the director of our personal psychodrama, assigned us roles for a therapy session. The catch? The therapist was to navigate the emotional labyrinth of a possessive and overly sensitive young man. Silence ensued. No volunteers. The air was thick with the anticipation of impending embarrassment.

Seeing no brave souls stepping forward, and feeling a sudden surge of what I now realize was misguided confidence, I raised my hand. “I’ll be the therapist,” I declared, possibly with too much enthusiasm for someone who had no idea what was coming.

Act Two: In Therapy, No One Can Hear You Scream (Internally)

Enter ‘Mira,’ my fictional client with a real knack for being vexingly vague about her anger issues. “I don’t know what makes me angry,” she confessed. “Ah-ha,” I thought, “a challenge!” I was ready, armed with questions I believed would uncover the depths of her psyche.

“When was the last time you got angry?” I asked, expecting a tale of emotional triggers.

“Last night,” she replied. And the reason? “I don’t know.”

This pattern repeated, much to my chagrin. Each “I don’t know” chipped away at my confidence, but did that stop me? Absolutely not. I pressed on, blissfully unaware of the train wreck I was engineering.

“So, what did you do when you were angry?” I inquired, hoping for a breakthrough.

“I responded back in anger,” she said simply.

“And that felt good?” I asked, hoping to connect on some therapeutic level.

“Oh great, that’s good. If that makes you happy, it’s good that you did that,” I cheered, thinking I was promoting self-awareness. The class’s reaction, however, was a mixture of shock and amusement. Turns out, I was promoting the exact opposite of therapeutic healing.

Act Three: The Curtain Call of Humility

The laughter that followed my ‘therapeutic’ advice was a wake-up call. My professor gently, yet firmly, pointed out the glaring missteps in my approach. Therapy, I learned, isn’t about echoing or cheering on whatever behaviors are presented; it’s about understanding, challenging, and guiding toward healthier emotional landscapes.

From this comical calamity, I gleaned a few nuggets of wisdom: real therapy is about thoughtful intervention, not just reactive affirmation. And sometimes, the best way to learn is by landing face-first into your own mistakes, ideally with an audience of your peers to ensure maximum retention of the lesson.

Encore!

So here I am, a little wiser and a lot humbler, sharing my rookie mistake in the hope that it brings a smile and maybe a nod of understanding. Remember, in psychology as in life, it’s not just about asking the right questions, but also knowing what to do with the answers—or the lack thereof.

And to all would-be therapists out there, a word of advice: sometimes the best therapy starts with being able to laugh—at yourself.