Therapist Mumbo Jumbo: You Should Never Give A Lecture To Someone Who Needs A Hug (Metaphorically Speaking)!

If you've ever sat in a therapy session and found yourself wondering, "What on earth does that actually mean?", you're not alone.

Therapists have a language all of our own. Somewhere between university assignments, supervision, research papers and conferences, we seem to develop a dialect that sounds incredibly intelligent... but often leaves the people we're trying to help feeling like they've accidentally wandered into an academic lecture.

Let's be honest. We've all done it - and it has a place, just not all the time.

"We need to increase your distress tolerance."

"Let's work on cognitive restructuring."

"You're engaging in experiential avoidance."

"We need to build psychological flexibility."

These are all perfectly valid concepts. They're useful. They matter.

But they're also completely meaningless to you; the person sitting opposite us having literally no idea what we're talking about.

Imagine taking your car to a mechanic.

"The issue appears to be a degradation of the combustion efficiency secondary to a fault within the ignition system."

Or...

"Looks like one of your spark plugs isn't firing."

Same information. Different experience.

Good therapy shouldn't require a glossary.

Now, before my fellow therapists sharpen their formulation templates and come after me, I'm not saying we should throw away technical language. It has an important place.

Among professionals!

When I'm discussing a case in supervision, "psychological flexibility" means something very specific. It's useful shorthand.

But when I'm with a client? I'm much more interested in asking...

"Does your mind tend to bully you?"

"What happens when difficult feelings show up?"

"What have you tried to get rid of them?"

"How well has that worked?"

Suddenly we're talking about exactly the same processes—but in language that belongs to the person, not the profession. The irony is that therapy is supposed to be collaborative, Yet sometimes our language creates an imbalance. The therapist becomes the expert with the complicated words. The client becomes the person trying to keep up.

I don't think most therapists do this deliberately. In fact, I suspect it's usually the opposite.

Many of us are so immersed in these ideas that we've forgotten they weren't always obvious to us either.

I remember first learning about ACT (See! I almost did it there, Mumbo Jumbo: ACT is short for Acceptance and Commitment Therapy - Check out the page on the site to learn more - Allan). It uses terms like fusion, defusion, self-as-context and psychological flexibility. I nodded along as though I understood.

I didn't. Not really. It took stories, metaphors, conversations and real life before any of those words actually meant something and clients deserve to skip that stage.

I've never once been complimented for being an "expert", in fact quite the opposite, the best compliment I ever hear are when someone likes one of my stories.

It's when someone says...

"That finally made sense."

That's the goal. Not sounding clever. Being useful. Because here's the thing.

People don't come to therapy because they want to learn a new vocabulary.

They come because anxiety is running their life.

Because sadness feels unbearable.

Because a relationship is falling apart.

Because they're exhausted from fighting their own mind.

Sometimes therapists worry that simplifying things means "dumbing it down."

I couldn't disagree more. In fact - Explaining something simply is usually much harder than explaining it badly.

It's the difference between saying...

"You're catastrophising."

...and...

"Your brain keeps showing you the worst-case scenario and then convincing you it's already happening."

One sounds like psychology while the other sounds like someone understands what it's actually feels like.

That's where connection happens. It's easier to talk about "emotional dysregulation" than to sit with the feelings that come from your world that happens to be falling apart.

It's easier to say "avoidance" than to face how terrifying life can feel.

They'll remember feeling understood and in the end, that's far more therapeutic than any amount of beautifully delivered therapist mumbo jumbo.