The “Treasure Hunter” Client: Searching for the Magic Key

I tend to tell it like it is, to the point where I’ve been referred to as “too blunt.”

But more often than not, I come across a client I like to call “the treasure hunter.”

These clients are searching for this ONE thing. This ONE piece of information, an apology they never received, a filler for a void, a sole question that will likely never have a complete answer.

I then ask if they wish to enjoy the perks of the “One-Stop Therapy Shop” where I graciously provide them with the “Magic Key” answer they seek. Sometimes, I get an eye-widening reaction coupled with a flicker of hope. However, this I am quick to ignite — yet contain within our therapeutic space.

The “Magic Key” answer you seek is that there are far more keys than one believes exist. Most are some you don’t even know you’re looking for right now.

Let’s segue into thinking about this in the format of puzzle pieces — sometimes it makes it easier for the mind to comprehend.

If we are given a box in this life to hold the pieces we collect, who is to say that all of the pieces were in there to begin with? What if the box we have been given has been passed down from generation to generation to generation…sound familiar?

The likelihood of all those pieces being in that box has decreased significantly. But the precious ones have remained and withstood the test of time — some more colorful than others, and some more drab and left to be background fillers.

Let me now ask if you have ever opened up a puzzle box and had all the pieces facing upright and in the exact form of the image on the front?

Life is messy. You’ve heard that a million times before. We simply can’t turn all the pieces right-side up in one fail swoop.

So we just work piece by piece. Some pieces we decipher go to the top right corner — an area in which we can’t quite yet tell what in fact it is. Other pieces cluster to the bottom left, looking vaguely like some grassy area by a pond.

We are certain to lose some pieces along the way too. Even as we sift and separate. The dog eats one (maybe two) or a piece gets stuck to the bottom of your sock — only for you to find it underneath your bed when you move out of your place five years later and vividly recall donating the puzzle to the nearest Goodwill just two short weeks ago.

Life’s funny like that.

But now we are left with what? Perhaps the most precious pieces of all. The missing ones.

The little opportunities to fill those empty spaces where those stupid lost and forgotten pieces “should” have gone.

We now hold the keys to fill these holes with our choices — whether it be imagination, addiction, our dreams, our worries, our hopes, a simple “what if I just” and beginning to envision what that corner could look like now.

Perhaps your pond has gained visitors, or your grass a new hue of green.

Simply put, this is what therapy is to me. It’s learning that despite “missing” pieces and needing to squint to imagine what would be there — life can become much more interesting if we create the pieces to our own puzzle.

Choose to fill your missing pieces in wisely — that’s where you’ll find the magic.