If you’ve followed this column for some time, you know I’m somewhat of an Apple TV+ hoe (to use a politically correct term).
Apple TV+ may not have the numbers, but there is something to be said for quality.
But here’s the thing, I have avoided one show, Shrinking, for far too long, in spite of the fact that it was made by the people who made my beloved Ted Lasso. I’m a good little elder millennial, and I love both Harrison Ford and Jason Segel. In fact, I’d probably watch Skibidi Toilet if they guest-starred.
My avoidance, however, had a lot to do with how sick I am of therapy-speak culture. Not therapy itself, which I think can be really helpful if you’re matched with the right professional, but I’m incredibly sick of how therapy terms have become a bludgeon on the internet and elsewhere (Reddit knows what I’m talking about).
If you’ve ever met an asshole who acts like an asshole and calls it “self-care,” you will also know what I mean. Even when it’s used by well-meaning people, therapy-speak gets under my skin. Not everything is “trauma.” People who constantly list their “triggers” are tiresome. And not everyone is being “avoidant” if they don’t want to hang out — maybe they’re just jerks, or maybe they don’t like your face. (You can see just how tired I am of this shit, as I am a huge proponent of mental health care and consider myself a poster girl for mental health care success).
So I was genuinely wary of a show about wealthy therapists in nice houses therapizing their clients out in California. Even when I needed a pick-me-up while missing Ted Lasso, I avoided it.
In the end, though, I read about how awesome Jessica Williams is in Shrinking, and realized I had to give it a go. I remember 2 Dope Queens! I could no longer stay away!
And to be honest, I’m glad I didn’t. Shrinking can stumble when it feels a little too… ugh, therapeutic, but it also offers great commentary on the blurred lines that can exist between laypeople and mental health professionals, and it’s fucking funny.
The great Wendy Malick also shows up — is this a good time to mention that I love sexy older women? — and is neither wasted nor overshadowed in her role as a neurologist and Ford’s love interest.
Much has been written about how Ted Lasso is a show about niceness. You could say the same about Shrinking, at a glance. But ultimately, this brand of comedy (it does lean more toward comedy than drama) is about people who don’t let their imperfections and personal tragedies overshadow them. Life can be a piece of shit, but that’s no excuse to be a complete asshole is the biggest takeaway from both of these shows, and I think this is a message we need in our culture. Especially when I consider how many members of my own generation are irony-pilled, caustic dweebs.
“Seek help” is a phrase we throw around often when we encounter weird people we don’t like. The thing about seeking help, as Shrinking demonstrates, is that it’s not a particularly nice or straightforward process. Your therapist could turn out to be a weirdo himself! Your problems could be magnified before they get better! Setbacks may occur! Crimes could be committed!
I like that kind of emotional honesty in a show. It’s not mean, but it is weighty.
I also really liked some of the tools the characters introduce, such as Reversal of Desire. It can seem cheesy from the outside, but delving into pain, rather than avoiding it and thus giving it oxygen, is a fascinating means of learning to forge on with difficult tasks. As a champion of avoiding difficult tasks until they leap on top of me and force me to the ground (I live in Colorado now, OK, I’m always watching out for mountain lions), I recently tried Reversal of Desire and found it very, very useful.
When was the last time a TV show gave me a good tool like this? I honestly can’t think of one off the top of my head. In other words, Shrinking is an earnest gem, I feel stupid for having avoided it for so long, and I urge you to learn from my mistakes.