How Psychotherapy Helps Us See Ourselves More Clearly
Perception vs. reality in lived experiences—and why a good therapist helps us see what we’ve become blind to.
What do you see when you look at this image?
Don’t just take a quick guess—really look at it. Take some time to absorb the shapes. Make sure you’re sure.
I’m currently reading Visual Intelligence by Amy E. Herman. The book explores how observing works of art can sharpen our perception, helping us recognize details and subtle cues that we often overlook in our daily lives. Herman pushes the reader to practice specific observational skills to take in more information in diverse ways. She does an excellent job demonstrating how these perceptual shifts translate across fields, from business to national security.
I’m getting a lot out of the book. It’s not a new concept that keen observation is vital in psychotherapy; we are taught to observe smell, cleanliness, and appropriateness of dress as fundamental elements of diagnostics and note-taking.
However, what I’ve found in practice is that being able to interpret microscopic changes in facial features, body language, affect, and vocal tone can be the difference between uncovering what’s really bothering someone and spending the whole session discussing the frivolous “comings and goings” of the previous week.
Being able to ask, “What was that face?” or “You seem reserved; what’s up?” is just as important as knowing how to ask Socratic questions or teach executive functioning skills.
Can more information change what we see?
So, look at the black-and-white image again.
Does it change anything for you to know it’s a photograph?
The photo was taken in 1921.
Does having more information help you identify what it is?
What if I give you even more: the image is of a mammal.
Can you identify which one?
[Image: black-and-white photograph from Visual Intelligence]
When I first saw the image, I thought I was looking at an aerial shot of bodies of water around farmland. My brain went straight to Lake Michigan. I grew up near Chicago, so my mind reached for the familiar—even though I knew it couldn’t be right.
Then I saw teeth in a skull, perhaps with a bullet wound in the cheek.
When Herman mentioned it was a mammal, I was satisfied that I had cleverly figured it out: a human skull. Herman said she saw a platypus at that point; I still can’t see how.
Herman and I were both wrong.
The image is of a cow.
I looked and looked and couldn’t see the cow. She finally offered an additional image with the cow outlined, and only then did the image snap into focus.
Now, I can’t unsee it.
When putting together this newsletter, I wondered if it was too obviously a cow and if this exercise wouldn’t work for my clever readers. But the truth is, additional information doesn’t always give us a more accurate picture.
Observation can be manipulated by perspective.
Because I grew up near Chicago, my brain initially saw what it knew. When given more facts, I simply used them to confirm my own flawed interpretation.
Alone, I couldn’t solve this riddle; I needed an outside perspective to define the reality of what I was looking at.
How does this apply to therapy?
This is how good therapy works.
A patient shows up with a set of “facts” about themselves:
“I am meek.”
“I am a very timid person.”
The evidence:
I cry easily.
I avoid difficult conversations.
I shrink in the presence of strong personalities.
“I am a failure.”
“I am bad at my job.”
The evidence:
I missed one deadline last month.
My boss didn’t smile at me in the hallway this morning.
“I am unlovable.”
“People always leave me.”
The evidence:
My high school boyfriend broke up with me.
My current friend hasn’t texted back in two days.
“I am broken.”
“I am uniquely damaged.”
The evidence:
I feel anxious in crowds.
I can’t seem to “just be happy” like everyone else appears to be.
How does a therapist help someone see their situation differently?
Good therapy gathers more information about why this happens, where it started, and how it affects you.
It pushes you to consider other people’s experiences too. It involves digging deep to understand what you believe and why you believe it.
A therapist gathers these observations and presents them back to you with a fresh perspective:
Did you notice this only happens with men, never women?
This couldn’t have started after your dog died, because you mentioned this also happened back in high school.
Sometimes we can’t see beyond our own worldview without another person’s keen eye.
This is where a good therapist comes in.
Why does the right therapist matter?
I like to say there are enough different types of people in the world that we can benefit from all types of therapists.
There’s room for “pink and pearls” suburban moms, cool goths with piercings and sky-high hair, and everyone in between.
I once saw a therapist on Reddit say she didn’t like making eye contact, so she offered sessions with activities—coloring, painting nails, playing checkers—so no one had to stare at each other.
People in the comments said they’d never trust a therapist who wouldn’t look them in the eye, but personally, I wouldn’t mind the opportunity to discuss my deep darks over a game of checkers.
To each their own.
But a truly effective therapist will be able to see beyond their own perspective and the “facts” a patient presents, synthesizing all the information into something completely new.
After all, that’s why we come to therapy: for a new way to see and think about our world so we can make the changes that take us where we want to go.
Should therapy challenge your perspective?
A good therapist should challenge you to see yourself differently, and a challenge should feel hard.
If your therapy always feels good—if what you’re presenting is always validated as the absolute truth—I’d push you to question if you’re actually being given room to grow.
There is a huge difference between being validated and being placated.
Validation acknowledges that your feelings are real; placating suggests your current perspective is the only one.
Growth requires the discomfort of having your “lake” revealed to be a “cow.”
What is the goal of good psychotherapy?
Just as I needed that outline to see the animal hidden in the high-contrast shapes, we often need a therapist to trace the lines of our own lives.
They provide the outline that helps us stop seeing the “wounds” or “skulls” we’ve convinced ourselves are there, allowing us to finally see the whole picture.
A good therapist doesn’t just listen to your story; they help you see the things in your own reflection that you’ve become blind to, guiding you toward a clarity you couldn’t reach alone.
Sometimes the facts are real, but the picture we’ve made from them isn’t.
That is one of the most valuable things psychotherapy can offer: not simply telling us that our perception is wrong, but helping us gather enough information—and see it from enough perspectives—to understand what is actually there.
