You're not lazy.
It surprises me how many of my clients were told as children they were lazy. This label seems to stick, and is often offered by clients as a final explanation when I try to explore their struggles.
I’ve learned that ‘lazy’ is the start of a conversation, not the end. Every time I’ve approached clients’ ‘lazy’ parts with curiosity, not one has ever responded with, ‘I genuinely could not be bothered.’
Instead, these parts say things like, ‘I feel overwhelmed. I don’t know where to start.’
Or: ‘I’m scared that I’ll fail in some way, or that it’ll hurt me somehow, or that there’s no point to this task.’
Or: ‘I’m filled with doubt about my ability to do this.’
Or: ‘I’m so tired. I just need rest.’
Labelling behaviour – whether your own or someone else’s – as ‘laziness’ means missing out on all this lovely, extremely helpful information about the barriers this part is noticing and trying to communicate.
The label brings shame and stuckness. The antidotes are curiosity and compassion.
I love my job. I love slow moments of tuning into the wisdom in every person I meet with. I love my lamp-lit office and helping people feel safe and listening to what lies beneath what’s being said and being paid to laugh and cry and connect with and care for the scared, vulnerable child versions of the adults who sit in the chairs across from me.
(I also love the fact that I removed a very long and complicated intro to this post because I was dramatically overthinking whether or not I was sermonising, and whether or not sermonising on my blog is okay.
I have no answers to these questions. I’m hitting the Publish button anyway.)