Why Alter?
Names are powerful; they represent us. I knew the name of my practice would be the first impression I gave to people, so it had to be like, really, really good. I had to resonate with it, be proud of it, own it. It had to be a strong but gentle word, one that encapsulated what I do. The name had a huge responsibility, big shoes to fill. Finding the right one was a tall order.
I thought about it for months. I wrote lists, googled terms to see if other people had used them (they had), scoured the symbol of flowers and animals to see if one felt like a good fit (they didn’t). Nothing felt right.
Until one day, I went for lunch with my eldest daughter. I was telling her about my very real struggle to name my practice. We brainstormed for a bit, mostly making up joke names like “what’s your damage counselling” (we have a dark sense of humour). Then, in a pause between laughter, she took a sip of her virgin mojito, tilted her head and said, “what about Alter counselling?”
The clanging of dishes stopped. The susurrus of voices from the restaurant disappeared. Time stood still. We stared at each other. That’s it. Alter. It clicked like the missing puzzle piece inside the mental picture of my new practice, gave it colour, depth and shape. Alter Counselling. Yes!
But why did it feel so perfect? It’s just a small, everyday word. Or my big fear, that people are going to think I just misspelled Altar, a REALLY big, honkin’ heavy word. Anyone want to be sacrificed at the altar of counselling? Anyone?
Sorry. There’s that dark humour again.
Here is what Google (via the Oxford Languages dictionary) has to say about the word Alter:
verb
change or cause to change in character or composition, typically in a comparatively small but significant way
make structural changes to (a building). "plans to alter the dining hall"
tailor (clothing) for a better fit or to conform to fashion. "skirts with the hemlines altered a dozen different times"
We are all beautiful, fluid works-in-progress who sometimes get stuck in the suffocating mental structures we built a long time ago. Don’t get me wrong—those structures worked well for who we were for that time in our life and those particular circumstances. But now, the walls we built to protect ourselves have expanded as if water had gotten into our cracks and then turned to ice. The door jambs are stuck and the windows are not opening. We are stuck like prisoners inside our protective structures and don’t know how to get out.
In order to get free, or at the very least let some air in, some internal renovations may be necessary. That doesn’t mean we have to tear everything down brick by brick, take a giant therapeutic sledgehammer to the whole damn thing and build a new one, though sometimes we are forced by circumstance to do just that.
For most people, simple alterations can make a big difference. Taking down a wall that’s been feeling claustrophobic and that will now afford us more space, better light and a view, for instance. Moving some emotional furniture around to get a different perspective or painting our internal walls with the lighter shades of self-compassion and support instead of the dark, heavy hues of self- criticism can be life-changing.
While we have no choice but to be ourselves in this world, there are ways we protect ourselves from the four existential givens of death, isolation, freedom and meaning that as we age begin to suffocate our growth. We either make changes or start to atrophy within our existing structures.
Here is the belief behind Alter counselling: that humanity needs to cultivate more self-awareness, self-compassion and empathy if we are to survive ourselves. How we relate on an individual, micro level plays out on a macro level. If we want to survive this time of polarization, strife, and inability to engage in healthy conflict, we need to begin to understand our own reactions, patterns of behaviour and how they may be doing harm so that we can respond and relate better to ourselves and others.
Alter counselling is the vehicle with which I hope to contribute to this evolution of our species. Though big sweeping changes are a part of this journey, I am more interested in the small, incremental internal ones that help us become more ourselves. Significant change doesn’t always have to be jarring; it can be subtle, ongoing, iterative, even gently surprising. True change starts by wanting to experience the world in a different, lighter way. It starts with focusing our attention, noticing and accepting ourselves.
