Some people think a therapy practice at home is weird. Not only at home, but in my living room. It’s not like on the HBO show “In Treatment” where the Dr. Weston has a whole separate entryway for his therapy practice. Nope. When clients come to Pear Tree, they come right through the front door just like my friends and family. They sit on the couch that my kid does his Chinese homework on at night, and I sit in my chair where I listen to old Sam Cooke records.
The family table in the dining room is the one I built for family dinners every night (well, it’s in the shop right now as I add the leaves). Though we keep the place spic and span, Pear Tree is very much a home. A home with very low amounts of drama; a home without chaos.
It’s not a fancy home, but it’s a comfortable one. More comfortable than any office I’ve ever worked in. It’s bright and cozy with a big pine tree you can see through the front window. It’s exactly the sort of place a certain kind of person likes to come and talk about their troubles. You know, people without any pretension. People who need to feel safe and secure before they will talk about their deepest problems, before they can overcome their greatest emotional and relational obstacles.
Experience tells us that it’s hard to be afraid of anything at Pear Tree. It’s just a nice place, with curious me and friendly Steve the Terrier. One day there may be more of us therapists here, and they will be just as curious and engaged as Steve and I are. But for now, from 9-5, it’s just us and the people who come to heal.
Great work is being done in clinics and offices around the city. I’ve done good work and been a part of some very lovely groups in four such offices and clinics (six if I include my volunteer work). That doesn’t mean that equally good work can’t be done here, in the suburbs, where the parking is always free, and Steve is always glad to greet you with a wag of his tail.
Lindsey Jay Walsh, MMFT