Telling Time vs. how the watch works

Some days, you just need to know what time it is.

Other days, you wonder how the gears inside the watch actually work.

This is the perpetual tension that therapists face: addressing the immediate vs. understanding the fundamental.

The Tyranny of Now

Imagine walking into your therapist's office. You're having panic attacks. Your marriage is crumbling. Your boss just put you on a performance improvement plan.

The last thing you want is someone asking about your relationship with your father thirty years ago.

You need help now. You need someone to help you tell time, not explain the intricate mechanics of Swiss watchmaking.

And so the skilled therapist does exactly that. They meet you where you are. They help you navigate the immediate crisis.

This is not a failure of therapy. This is therapy at its most responsive.

The Missing Why

But there's a problem with only telling time.

If all we ever do is address the symptom of the moment, we never discover why the watch keeps losing minutes. We never understand why the alarm keeps going off at 3 AM when we set it for 7.

The client who only ever gets crisis intervention never understands why they keep finding themselves in crisis.

Some therapists love the crisis. It makes them feel needed. Important. Essential.

But the great ones know that their job isn't just to be needed today. It's to not be needed tomorrow.

The Dance Between Depths and Surface

Great therapy isn't choosing between telling time and understanding watches. It's knowing when to do which.

It's the willingness to pivot between immediate needs and long-term growth.

It's having the courage to say, "I notice we spend every session talking about this week's emergency. I wonder if we should spend some time understanding why emergencies keep happening to you."

Or conversely: "I know we planned to explore your childhood today, but you're clearly in distress. Let's address what's happening right now."

This dance is what separates technicians from healers.

Three Ways to Navigate the Tension

1. Build in checkpoints

The session belongs to the client, but the structure belongs to you. Don't let inertia determine your focus.

At the beginning of each session, create a moment to decide: Are we telling time today, or exploring the watch?

A simple: "Before we dive in, I'm wondering if there's something urgent we need to address today, or if you'd like to continue our deeper work?"

This small intervention prevents both of you from defaulting to habit rather than intention.

2. Notice when the urgency subsides

The skilled therapist can feel when the crisis has been sufficiently addressed. When the client's breathing changes. When their shoulders drop. When they lean back slightly in their chair instead of perching anxiously on the edge.

This is the moment to pivot. To gently guide the conversation from "what happened" to "why it happened." From symptoms to systems.

"Now that we've addressed what happened with your partner this week, I'm curious about the pattern we're seeing in these conflicts..."

3. Remember whose journey this is

Therapists have agendas. Theories. Frameworks. Favorite techniques.

But at the end of the day, the therapy belongs to the client.

Some clients truly do need months of crisis intervention before they're ready to do deeper work. Some need to build trust through the immediate before they'll explore the historical.

And some may never want to understand how the watch works. They just want to tell time more accurately.

Your job isn't to force them into your preferred approach. It's to meet them where they are while gently opening doors to where they might go.

The Client's Journey

In the end, therapy is not your creation. It's a collaboration.

Some clients will only ever want to tell time, and that's their right.

Others will become fascinated by the inner workings of their own psychological watches, taking them apart and putting them back together with increasing skill.

Your job is not to force either journey, but to be a skilled companion on whichever path they choose—while occasionally pointing out forks in the road they might not have noticed.

Some days, you just need to know the time. Other days, you need to understand why the hands keep moving.

The art is knowing which day is which.