Hello and Welcome Back to The Therapist Diaries,
There's been a lot going on in my life recently. One of my coping skills is journaling but I'm quickly working my way through the pages, and I think my boyfriend feels as though I've been forcing him to read a novel with the amount of chapter length texts that I've been sending him recently. It's brought about a lot of thinking on the topic of support teams and the importance of them. Not a support group that you attend once a week, but a personalized group of people that know what you're going through and can help you when you need it. For the NASCAR fans among us, it's like an emotional pit crew.
A lot of us don't think we're allowed a support team. There's a misconception that they're reserved for "crisis situations” or people who’ve hit absolute rock bottom, but in reality, it’s something we all need. Not because we’re weak, but because we’re human and humans are social beings whose survival depends on their interaction with others.
When I say, “support team,” I don’t mean a therapist and a crisis hotline (although those can be essential parts of a safety plan). I mean your people. The ones who show up when you cancel plans for the third time, the ones who send a check-in text without needing a reason, the ones who don’t flinch when you say, “Actually, I’m not doing great right now.”
It doesn’t have to be a long list. Sometimes your team is one friend and your dog. Sometimes it’s your sister, your partner, or that one coworker who always asks how you really are.
The point is: support doesn’t have to be formal. It just has to be real.
I remember the first time someone asked me to be on their support team. They said it gently, nervously, and almost as though they were embarrassed. “Hey, I’m going through something, and I think I just need a couple of people who know what’s going on.” They didn’t go into the details right away. They didn’t have to. The fact that they let me in, even a little, felt like a gift.
That’s the thing: asking someone to be part of your support team doesn’t mean dumping your entire emotional history on them. It can be as simple as saying, “I’m struggling lately, and I’m trying to stay connected instead of isolating. Would it be okay if I checked in with you sometimes?”
You don’t have to tell them everything. You just have to tell them enough for them to show up in the way you need. And that’s different for everyone. Maybe you need someone who reminds you to eat. Maybe you need someone to listen without offering advice. Maybe you need someone who’ll still invite you out, even when you always say no, because the invitation reminds you that you’re still wanted.
Of course, not everyone is equipped to be on your team. And that’s not a moral failing; it’s just a reality. Some people are better at lighthearted distractions than late-night vulnerability. Some love you but shrink from pain they don’t know how to hold. That’s okay. It doesn't mean they're not your friend and it doesn't make you a bad person for not asking them. You get to choose who you let into the more tender parts of your world.
Let it be messy. Let it be imperfect. Let people surprise you. Let them not be everything. You’re not looking for saviors, you’re looking for people who can sit beside you, who can say, “I don’t have all the answers, but I’m here.”
Sometimes clients ask me how to even start building a support team, especially if they feel like they’ve pulled away from people or haven’t been their “best self” in a while.
Here’s what I say: You don’t need to be fully healed or perfectly articulate to reach out. Just be honest. Start small. You can say something like, “Hey, I’ve been working on some stuff in therapy, and I’m realizing how much I need support right now. Would you be open to being someone I check in with from time to time?”
Most people won’t say no. And the ones who do? You’ll survive it. We don't know what everyone else is going through, maybe they're not in a place to be a supportive person for you now and that's okay too. It’s better to know who’s truly there than to keep pretending you don’t need anyone at all.
I don’t know who needs to hear this today, but: You are allowed to need people. You are allowed to take up space in someone else’s life. And you are allowed to be loved, even when you’re not okay.
We don’t heal in isolation. We heal in connection. That’s not just something I say in sessions, it’s something I have come to believe with my whole heart.
So, build your team. Slowly, gently, honestly. Let it grow. Let it change. And most importantly, let yourself lean on it.
If you’re not sure where to start, therapy can be the first safe space where you practice letting someone in.
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