Therapy for happiness?

I applaud psychological counseling. The field has helped endless millions of people cope with trauma, deal with grief, adjust bad behaviors, address anxiety and depression, and improve relationships between family members. My understanding (correct me if I'm wrong) is many therapists and counselors enter the discipline to help others cope with issues from which they themselves have suffered, bringing experience and empathy as well as training to the profession.

Clearly therapy takes time to achieve its goals – it's seldom a "one and done" process. In addition to the skill of the therapist or psychologist, the cooperation of the patient dramatically improves the chances of successfully reaching goals.

I've never had therapy of any sort, so I'm unfamiliar with the nitty gritty of how these transformations take place. However this headline startled me when I saw it, because I couldn't grasp the purpose: "Therapy Is Important, Even If You're Happy."

The author of this piece, Keah Brown, sought counseling to cope with depression, and outlines the process by which she was able to achieve some measure of relief from this affliction. She also described the maintenance and newly learned techniques required to sustain the strides she had made and avoid relapses.

What startled me about the article was the quote from a social worker and therapist named Brynna Pawlows (not the author's therapist) who made this stand-alone observation: "I believe people should attend therapy for a significant period of time – typically six to eight months – at some point in their lives, even if they are relatively happy. It's important to take a real look at ourselves, unpack some maladaptive behaviors or thoughts, and then use the skills taught in therapy to tackle any future issues, adjustments, or lapses in mental health. Therapy isn't a cure-all, but rather a space to open up, explore, learn new skills, and find the connections to presenting problems and how they connect with early-to-late childhood themes and family dynamics." [Emphasis added.]

Keep in mind, the above quote was not from one of Brown's therapists, but rather a statement that applies to the general public. And that's where my question arises: Is therapy necessary to achieve or maintain happiness if you've never experienced anything that would require counseling in the first place? Maybe I'm reading too much into the statement, but that's sure what it sounds like.

This same therapist notes, "Everyone is in need of 'work' in terms of mental health. What we see as people who are 'fine' is typically people who are just highly functional, though still struggling in some way. Many of my patients report being seen as 'totally put together' and 'stable' by their friends and loved ones. This is not because they don't have anxiety or trauma, but rather because they are extremely high functioning with anxiety, trauma, or other issues."

Another therapist quoted in the article, Aimee Lori Garrot, agrees that going to therapy when you're relatively happy is as important as seeking help in times of distress. "I think if a person is in a good space, they can often work on things in a more successful manner than if they are in the middle of a horrible depression. ... There are clear benefits to starting therapy wherever you are in life. There is no need to wait until things get bad before beginning, and there is no reason to wait for them to get better first either; you just have to start." She also notes that therapy is just as much about learning all the coping skills that you weren't taught."

I don't mean to make it sound like I'm mocking or making light of therapy, because I'm not. I consider it an essential medical procedure, just like any other medical procedure. But I genuinely want to know how therapy can help someone who is already "relatively happy" maintain that state of mind. What am I missing here?

Part of my confusion may stem from my unfamiliarity with mental health issues. In another article entitled, "Temperamentally Blessed," the author (Elizabeth Svoboda) discusses the unusual condition of those who don't suffer from any mental distress at all. "I regard such temperamentally blessed people with awe, and I'm more than a little curious about the source of their endurance," she writes. "Why is it that, after what psychologists call an 'adverse event,' I have a near-irresistible urge to wallow and curl into myself, while the temperamentally blessed deploy their emotional stabilizers and sail on blithely? Is it genes, upbringing or something less easily defined? And should we seek to follow their example – or are emotional ups and downs a natural and integral part of a life well-lived? Is it even mentally healthy to stay so even-keeled when chaos descends?"

In an effort to dig deeper into this character trait, Svoboda turned to the work of a then-graduate student in psychology named Jonathan Schaefer (now an assistant professor of psychology at Vanderbilt University). Using data from the famous Dunedin cohort study, Schaefer found that evidence of mental disorders in the general population is shockingly high.

"One thing that jumped out at [Schaefer] was that the vast majority of cohort members had met criteria for a mental illness at some point in their lives," writes Svoboda. "In the turbulent years leading up to middle age, 83 per cent had suffered from either short-lived or longer-lasting mental disorders. 'Experiencing these conditions is actually the norm,' Schaefer says. 'It's kind of weird not to.'"

Read that again: Having a mental disorder is the norm by a wide margin, not the exception.

Those that didn't experience mental illness were dubbed "the temperamentally blessed," and the condition was found to be independent of wealth, physical health, or intelligence, though it does appear to have a genetic component in that first-degree relatives similarly experience solid mental health.

"A live-and-let-live attitude is probably teachable, at least to some degree," notes Svoboda. "Dialectical behavior therapy – designed to teach emotional regulation – is geared toward boosting clients' tolerance and acceptance of others. Studies show that this therapy improves their functioning in the real world, inching them closer to the temperamentally blessed category even if they don't always reach it."

However, Svoboda quotes other psychologists who speculate certain benefits which can derive from mental anguish: It may drive effective problem-solving in a variety of situations; it can foster highly analytical problem-solving which allows people to incisively evaluate the pros and cons of potential solutions; it can sustain superior empathy; and – oddly – it often promotes flourishing creativity. (Perhaps the cliché of the angst-driven artist or writer has a solid basis in fact.)

"What does seem clear, though, is that being temperamentally blessed is not the same as being happy in a deeper sense," adds Svoboda. "However even-keeled they might be, the temperamentally blessed don't score much higher on life-satisfaction scales than those who are not as blessed. 'There's more to life than not experiencing mental disorder,' Schaefer says. 'There are some people in the enduring mental-health group who rate their life satisfaction as pretty low.'"

Maybe this is why happy people need therapy?

The writer of the original piece kept going to therapy to maintain the happiness she'd found, which strikes me as a perfectly legitimate reason. But the recommendation to attend therapy even if you're happy to begin with seems ... odd. I can't imagine what my opening session under such conditions would be. "I'm here because I'm happy. Can you fix me?"

So I'd like to open this up for discussion. Is therapy in this context helpful?

Fall foliage

After two months of lovely progression, all the trees in our yard have finally finished dropping their leaves.

The process starts in mid-September, when the honey locust leaves start carpeting the path through the yard.

By this point, the oaks starts showing just a wee bit of color.

But October – ah, that's the glorious month. By the first, things are really ramping up.

Every leaf becomes a thing of beauty.

It helps to have sunny days during this month, as it makes things positively sparkle.

You see, this is why I have an almost unhealthy obsession with the trees in our yard. After decades of seeing little but coniferous trees (stately and beautiful), deciduous trees – especially those that change color – fill me with giddy and childish glee. God bless whoever planted these beauties in our yard.

Early-morning sunshine through one of the oaks and the honey locust.

This time of year, the sun seems to "glow" through the leaves more prominently, making even green leaves look magical.

The yard looks very picturesque this time of year.

By the end of October, the whole trees are fully ablaze.

The colors are so bright and rich, they almost seem artificial.

And then...

...they start to fall.

Leaves gather along fence lines.

Mr. Darcy starts to blend in.

This is the view from the garden. Half the oak has dropped its leaves, half is still in full foliage.

If it seems as if I'm a bit obsessed with our oak trees this time of year ... well, guilty as charged.

Here's Maggie, framed by some branches.

By mid-November, the trees were (mostly) bare, and it was time to get raking. 

This is usually a relaxed, multi-day process, depending on weather and my work schedule. Since not all the leaves had dropped from one of the oaks...

...I focused on the portion of the yard where the trees were mostly bare.

Even raking, the leaves are lovely.

I got about half the yard raked, then paused over Thanksgiving weekend. This gave the willow trees a chance to drop everything (whomp!) on the lawn, which meant essentially I had to start raking all over again. Rookie mistake.

Preponderance of willow leaves on the left and oak leaves on the right.

Although it was 39F on the day I finished up, I worked up enough heat to discard my jacket and scarf.

A final push to get everything done before dark.

The leaf container is pretty full, but that's okay. Everything will compress down and start decomposing over the winter, which means it can be used in the garden in the spring.

Here's Darcy, with a clean yard behind him.

I still have to rake the side yard, but that's a task for another day.