We're Going on a Bear Hunt

When preparing for a baby, it’s common to read a baby book or two. Included are segments about feeding schedules, swaddling tips, and what to-dos if baby experiences reflux. However, I never read any segments about ways to prepare for that first year of preschool. You know, that first year of immune system exposure to every cootie known and unknown to man. The oral stage of developmental exploration pairs all too well with first year immune system rodeos.

Preschool was kind enough to send home Flu B for Spring Break.

So, it’s been a week full of fevers, missing appetites, and all you can watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. The Hotdog theme song has made an appearance in my dreams for the past few nights.
If you know you know.

Amongst the playlist of comforts has been ‘We’re Going on a Bear Hunt’. The beloved children’s book that takes the reader on an adventure through some grass, a river, some squishy mud (the fan favorite), a forest, a snowstorm, and a cave to find a bear.

“IT’S A BEAR!”
The family proclaims like it’s an actual surprise they found what they were looking for.

Then, they hightail it back through all the chaos of mud and snowstorms to cower in bed under the covers away from the bear.

This silly rhythmic tale holds many parallels to what the therapeutic journey is like.

Picture this:
A new client arrives at the therapy intake session. They have neatly mapped out what brings them to therapy, some historical data about their background, and a summation of a goal or two such as ‘I’m going on a bear hunt, and I’d like to catch a big one.”

The therapy journey begins with the intention of building rapport, gentle and somewhat predictable. The sessions progress and the rhythmic nature of attendance becomes…more challenging as the clinician begins to dig a little deeper.

Some sessions feel like treading through overgrown grass, requiring more mental effort to navigate, but doable. Others feel like trudging through ooey-gooey mud.
Still, you keep on. You’re on a bear hunt after all and you’d like to catch a big one.

Then one day, the processing and exploration in session thrusts you into the cave and what do you find? That BEAR of emotion. Suddenly, that goal you had stated neatly on a piece of paper seems ginormous, overwhelming, and mostly intimidating.

You can’t go over it.
You can’t go under it.
Oh no… you have to move through it.

The absolute trickiest part of healing.
Largely because our whole central nervous systems typically scream ‘RUNNN!’ at the moment of truth.

Change can be a bear. All puns intended.

Our presenting issues that drive us into the therapy room are rarely the ones that require deep healing and shifting. They are red flags that our core beliefs and ways of navigating or coping are running out of benefit, but rarely ever the whole pain point.

The most frequent example of this is when families enter the therapeutic process with the mentality ‘fix my kid, but don’t fix me’.

Many clinicians quietly chuckle at this, because a lot of children are east targets to serve as the identified patient. Most of the time, they are the brave ones that identify a system that is not serving anyone, let alone the child.
​
Instead, so many of us would rather backtrack our steps, go through the rigmarole of the snowstorm, forest, mud, river, and grass only to cower under the covers of denial instead of facing the bear of emotion. So many of us are terrified to feel it to heal it.

Perhaps it’s the intangibility of emotion that makes us tremble in fear. People are incredibly intimidated by the unknown, and it’s a pesky character trait that is undeniably a part of the human condition.

That’s why there is so much monumental power and triumph that results from facing the bear. Squaring your shoulders, looking up at the beast, and holding space for its presence. The longer you sit with its beastly demeanor, the longer it begins to resemble a ratty teddy bear that belonged to a younger you some time ago. That bear served a purpose then, but it’s time to put it down now. Give it a hug, thank it for its attempts at protecting you, and release it back to the metaphorical toy bin where it belongs.

Healing does not mean the feeling goes away. Healing means the feeling transforms its power and purpose in your narrative.

We all have bears we’d rather not face. Not really. We’d rather cage the bear, numb our fear of the bear, or run and cower under the covers, hoping the bear goes away.

But as the book taught us:
We can’t go over it
We can’t go under it.
Oh no, we have to go through it.
​
Square those shoulders, take a big breath, and know facing that bear of emotion, whatever it is, will be well worth the healing that can follow.