Most people walk into their first therapy session with the wrong mental model.

They arrive thinking they're meeting with a doctor who will diagnose their condition and prescribe the cure. Then they leave disappointed when transformation doesn't happen in fifty minutes.

They've made a category error.

People lie to themselves all the time.

This isn't news. It's just that when you sit across from someone who's actively deceiving themselves—when you witness the intricate dance between what they say they want and what their actions reveal—you realize that self-deception isn't just common. It's fundamental to how we function.

There's a moment that arrives in every therapeutic relationship. The client who once needed you desperately has found their footing. Their voice is stronger. Their eyes hold yours with newfound clarity.

And yet, the appointment book still shows their name, week after week.

We spend our lives performing.

On the playground, in boardrooms, on Instagram stories. Waiting for applause, hearts, promotions, and nods of approval.

This week, I made a discovery that shouldn't have surprised me but did:

Most self-esteem isn't authentic at all. It's performative.

Most therapy sessions revolve around problems. That's the contract, after all. Client arrives with a problem, therapist helps solve it. The dance is familiar—each week peeling back layers of anxiety, trauma, and neuroses in search of understanding and healing.

But what if, for just one session, we stopped?