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My New Therapist

Jade is 19 and is training to be a Therapist. She had previously written a piece before for this site entitled “My Therapeutic Introduction” which expressed her unease about seeing a therapist for the first time, with whom she felt uneasy and uncomfortable with. Here is Jade’s second account of Psychotherapy with her new therapist.

By Jade

Beginning therapy is a tricky business, walking to that front door, knocking discreetly, looking to see if anyone can see where you are going too. All part of the journey I suppose. I had no idea what would be in store for me until the door closed, I sat down and the therapeutic relationship started to form.

After leaving the therapy room I felt like an ant being put onto an atlas globe. So vulnerable and weak against the world, so much space to explore. I felt like I had been opened up to things that I had kept hidden for so long. I felt like I could explore myself and the world and not feel threatened, it was such a strange but surreal feeling. How this one therapist, after one session, can make me think and feel for so long without me cracking (until I got out of course). I felt like I wanted to go back in there and re-live the whole thing over again. Not that it’s nice feeling the pain and upset and the happiness, but having the opportunity to feel something, to see it as what it is, then that is beautiful. It’s like an addiction to chocolate or prescription drugs; you want more of what you think will make you feel better.

I had on and off feelings about it as I was driving home, maybe it was to much to feel all of this after just entering therapy, maybe im not stable or ready enough, but by hell this lady threw it at me. I had gone back and re-lived some of my childhood that I had forgotten, some deep and dark feelings that now I would much rather forget, but I felt and explored them safely with my therapist. Death had a big part to play in my first session, I spoke about my mum having secondary cancer and she came right out and said “is she going to die”?

I sat back in my chair, looked at the floor and felt like I had been punched in my stomach repeatedly. That’s the first time anyone has asked me that question and it was really the first time I had even thought about the fact that I could loose my mum to cancer.

Im very excited that I have 39 more sessions with her. Imagine what i’ll be feeling after 40, obviously I know their will be some rocky paths ahead of me, but I like this feeling of (feeling), expressing, smiling. I wonder what this year is going to have in store for me, I hope it is many good things that I can share with other people – sharing feels awesome.

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My Therapeutic Introduction

Jade

By Jade

Training to be a therapist is a hard job, especially when your as young as I am. Being 19, carefree and a rebellious teenager is alot of hard work. Training to help people in worse situations is even harder. Having to think and act like an adult sometimes has its advantages, you get taken seriously and people see you for you and not some silly little kid. I found out from my course that I have to have 40 hours of therapy. I immediatley felt sick, what on earth can I take to therapy, I dont want to talk to a stranger about my problems. Then I sat back and laughed at myself, how can I expect clients to come and talk to me if I cant even take myself to a therapist.

I booked myself an appointment the next day for the following week. Every day went by so quick and before I knew it the day was here. All day I thought about what I could say and remembered to try and act “normal”. I walked up to the building (it looked normal enough), the sign was small so no one knew I was going in for therapy and I didnt even get a chance to knock on the door when I was greeted by a small plump lady with big rosey cheeks. I felt the colour come back into my face.

We walked up the stairs and into a cosey beige room with a big red sofa. I plonked myself down and tried to get comfortable. The therapist was called Helen, she looked like such a lovely person, even sounded like one. She sat down on the other sofa and got a book out of her pocket, this was for taking notes. Next thing I knew I was getting bombarded with questions.

Age, date of birth, sleep patterns, eating, sex drive, health problems, family health, mental health, suicide, self harm, drugs, what i’d have on my grave stone ect. This felt like way too much for a first session. I noticed that I zoned out of the room and ended up going back to having counselling in secondary school with a women who would constantly ask me questions and then judge me. Helen clicked her fingers and I came back into the room, I apparently zoned out for about 5 minutes staring at a painting. I explained to her about my past history with counselling sessions that werent even real, how it felt, how it’s impacted on me now ect. It was really strange being there and I felt very uncomfrtable after that.

My OCD kicked in with the room once I got agitated and I cut the session short and left. I havent been back to her since. It wasnt that she was a bad therapist, I just felt that it was too much too soon, she did ask quite alot of me.
I have now found myself a new therapist whom I know as she was my tutor in university. I trust her 100% and i’m sure I will be able to write something interesting from her therapy. Im quite excited about this journey with her… I shall let you know.

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An Interview with Peter Wilkin

An Interview with retired Psychotherapist Peter Wilkin.

During this interview, I have attributed my own gender to the ‘therapist’ & the female gender to the ‘patient’, purely & simply to try & reduce any possible confusion. I have also used the term, ‘patient’, to refer to the person in therapy, though neither this label nor any of the other common alternatives have ever sat that comfortably with me. However, ‘s/he who has come to explore & make sense of his/her difficulties’ is just a tad too cumbersome to repeat throughout an interview.

I once said, “I sense that Peter is one who has been fully analysed, and is therefore able to analyse others” A while after writing this I came to the conclusion that it is not possible to be ‘fully analysed’ or ‘fully enlightened’. What are your thoughts on this?

I agree entirely. I did enter into therapy before I began my psychotherapy training, purely to comply with the course requirements. Although I did not feel to have any huge issues that needed addressing I was aware of several recurring problems that I intended to share & work on with my therapist. You probably won’t be surprised to learn that those problems went a lot deeper than I had anticipated. My therapist, who worked psychodynamically, was a very astute man who always knew if I was avoiding facing up to difficult feelings and, although he was gentle enough, I knew there were no real hiding places.

Once the course of therapy had finished (2 years) I felt the benefit both as a practitioner and in general. However, I still experience difficulties in certain areas of my life, just like we all do – but if I were to enter therapy for the rest of my years I would never come anywhere near being ‘fully analysed’. Nor would I want to. There are certain little foibles and defence mechanisms that I would prefer to hold onto.

Do you believe that in order for a therapist to help someone, the therapist has to be ‘helped’ during the process too?

Yes I do. I strongly believe that to practice as a therapist without receiving regular supervision from an experienced and qualified supervisor is both irresponsible and potentially dangerous. All therapists are susceptible to reacting back to their patients’ *transference reactions (*transference in psychotherapy is an unconscious process where the attitudes, feelings, and desires of our very early significant relationships get transferred onto the therapist) and it is vital that there is someone whom they can trust who is capable of identifying and interpreting such reactions. As therapists, we all carry our own agendas & we are all susceptible to projecting them onto our patients. Additionally, we are also prone to accepting & carrying our patients’ projections. Supervision provides a safe and confidential space where the therapist can sit and analyse his work whilst also feeling supported.

How did you deal with frustration, in regards to the time spent with a client, where the client was unable or reluctant to change. Do you feel that your frustration should be voiced during the session, or does this depend on the person?

That’s a really good question. I think I learned to deal with such frustrations much better as the years rolled by. In a way, this question links to the previous one. In reality, there is no logical reason to feel frustrated if it is our patient who is resistive or reluctant to change. But, of course, we still do – which can result in us either feeling angry with our patients or, alternatively, over-sympathetic & desperate to ‘make things better’ for them.  All such feelings are fine if we remember to sit & work out where they are coming from – but we do not always do that. Instead, we fail to separate our own issues from our patients and become embroiled in a messy and unproductive relationship with them.

A good example is the patient who has brought an issue of loss to therapy but who seems to be avoiding and sabotaging all attempts by the therapist to help her develop insight and move on. The therapist begins to feel frustrated and begins to lose patience with the patient. Having taken the issue to supervision, the supervisor discovers that this therapist suffered a broken relationship that he had never recovered from. He had never managed to accept the break-up & still grieved for the loss of his partner. Consequently, he had been projecting his own frustrations at not being able to work through his grief onto his patient.

As for voicing such frustration during the session – yes, I think that’s fine … but, of course, there is a particular way of doing it. The rule of thumb is that any such frustrations should be aired in a way which is likely to help the patient develop insight. The other rule, just as important, is always be tentative – in other words, always give the patient a ‘way out’ if they are not ready or unwilling to accept your hypothesis.

For example, the therapist might say: ‘I’m very aware that, whilst you were explaining to me about your partner’s reluctance to talk about his illness, I began to feel my stomach tightening … I can actually feel a huge knot of tension in it … right here *points to his stomach & taps it with his fist* … you know, I could be entirely wrong about this, but … I wonder if I’m feeling some of the frustration that you felt when your partner refused to let you in … you being unable to tell him how that made you feel?”

If the patient is ready to hear the tentative interpretation, a response might be: “I desperately wanted to let him know how frightened I was about losing him … but he just didn’t want to hear. I used to feel so angry with him (begins to cry) … & so wound up that I couldn’t eat.’

What are your thoughts on individual and creative therapy, which may be quite unorthodox, in terms of extending the 50 minute hour or adults taking part in play therapy or even switching seats with the therapist?

Ah! Well, if the therapist is practised in such ‘alternative’ techniques (e.g. in Gestalt therapy) & the patient has been fully briefed about the mode of therapy, then I am all for it. I used to employ similar strategies myself when working with families. I remember a specific session of ‘couples’ therapy when I asked one person to turn her chair round & direct all her answers to the wall. She was baffled at first, until she realised that this was how it felt for her partner when he tried to talk to her, as she never seemed willing to listen to him.

So such creative switches in therapy can work well, although I’m not sure about extending sessions beyond the agreed ‘hour’. For me (working within a very structured timetable) it would have caused problems & inconvenienced people with later appointments. And I believe an hour is ample time at one sitting to address the issues that need to be discussed. Giving a time boundary helps to contain a session by informing the patient that she has a specific amount of time to go wherever she needs to go. If the patient is inclined to wait until the last few minutes before ‘dropping a bombshell’ then this needs to be addressed by the therapist, as it most likely represents a ‘boundary’ problem that needs working on in therapy.

Do you feel it is necessary to share your personal experiences with the client, or again do you feel that this would depend on the person?

Generally speaking, no. I believe the more a patient knows about her therapist, the more that information is likely to pollute the therapy process. To illustrate, if I were to disclose a particular faith or religion, that might prevent the patient from sharing a negative feeling towards that faith or religion. Or if I was to highlight a particular personal difficulty (an illness, a relative’s struggle, an anxiety), that might generate concern & worry for the patient. I know that some person-centred counsellors do share certain personal experiences as a way of empathising but, for me, I think it is inappropriate to do so. There are surely better ways of demonstrating empathy as opposed to revealing personal details.

How important were your initial instincts on first meeting with a client?

Extremely important for two reasons:

Firstly, I trust my instincts. Almost thirty years of clinical practice has honed them to a point where they are pretty sharp at forming an accurate profile of a person.

Secondly, they are a wonderful source of counter-transference for me to explore, either on my own or with my supervisor. Instincts always surface from the unconscious and, on occasions, I will be unwittingly projecting my own beliefs onto the patient. If the therapist is able to identify these counter-transference reactions it can provide him with a rich source of information about himself and his patient.

For example, I may feel inexplicably cool towards a patient in the first assessment session. The reason might be a very simple one, in that she reminds me of someone I know – & if that’s the case I will surely work that out quickly. But at the other end of the spectrum there may be no discernible reason why I should harbour such a negative feeling. So, I would have to explore my instinctual feelings until an explanation surfaced.

A possible explanation might go something like this: the patient lost her mother when she was only a child. She had no father figure to turn to & this caused a multitude of problems for her. Throughout her adult life she has had a string of very brief relationships & only one longer relationship that lasted just over two years. Whilst she insists that she yearns to be in a loving & caring relationship she is also frightened of ‘losing’ any figure that she may get close to. Consequently, she unconsciously projects a rather austere persona that is inclined (& unconsciously designed) to deter people from trying to get close to her.

During therapy, how important are the unconscious or the darker sides of the Psyche. For example, with my analyst, we have adopted a name for the part of me that seeks drama, darkness etc?

What a wonderful question! Very important, I would say. According to Jung the Shadow is an archetype that reflects deeper elements of our psyche. It is, by its name, dark, shadowy, unknown and potentially troubling. It tends not to obey rules, and in doing so may discover new lands or plunge things into chaos and battle. It has a sense of the exotic and can be disturbingly fascinating.

We may see the shadow in others and, if we dare, know it in ourselves. Mostly, however, we deny it in ourselves and project it onto others.

In therapy, if we face up to our shadow side it can help to vitalize our lives. Those fears & anxieties that we suppressed many years ago, when confronted & understood, can lead us to places that we would, otherwise, never have discovered. The negative messages we receive in childhood all contribute towards constructing our shadow sides. If a person is told that they are stupid, or clumsy, or even unlovable, those messages live on in the dark side of the psyche. Shining a light on them is usually perceived as a fearful & risky thing to do. However, exposing them to the light in therapy provides an opportunity to see them for what they really are (hurtful and inappropriate comments) whilst, also, unwrapping potential that, otherwise, would have laid dormant.

For those who would like to learn more about their shadow, there is an excellent article by Denise Linn entitled: ‘Facing your Shadow

Have you ever given a client advice?

Within a contracted course of therapy, never (as far as I can recall). For me, doing so goes against the whole ethic of offering the patient ‘cues’ (in the form of interpretations & hypotheses) so that she may find her own way through her difficulties. Offering solutions by way of advice disempowers the patient by taking away her potential for finding her own answers.

Of course, if the patient asked me: ‘Is there a train station nearby if I’m ever unable to travel by car?’ then I would answer their question. But suggesting various coping strategies runs against the grain of psychodynamic therapy & may even imply that you have no faith or trust in the patient to find her own way out of her difficulties.

Many thanks for giving me the opportunity to address such thought-provoking questions, Will. Having been retired for several years I had to put my thinking cap back on in order to provide what I hope will be satisfactory answers.

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Therapy. I Love Therapy!

By Anne

I’ve been thinking about what to write for this post for a few days, and honestly I’m not any closer to having a single experience to talk about.

So, with that said… therapy.  I love therapy! I’m in therapy three days a week, so I’d better love it!  There’s regular talk therapy, of course, then there’s EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) and finally, couples therapy.  Each type of therapy brings it’s own “stuff” to the table.

My favorite of the three would have to be the talk therapy.  My counselor is the best.  The first time I stepped foot into her office I knew I was there to stay.  She’s the type of woman everyone would like as a mom.  Nurturing, yet no-nonsense, practical and insightful, she has the uncanny ability to see straight to my core, yet she is always gentle and knows how to handle me with kid gloves.  Nothing shocks her. I like the way she never looks at me with pity in her eyes. Rather, she looks at me like I’m her equal and we’re just sitting there having a conversation about the weather. She likes to draw pictures on the chalkboard she keeps in her office and she likes to lend me books. We have that in common: books.

She’s taught me so much and given me real-world ways of coping with situations that have come up.  She’s taught me practical ways to set healthy boundaries.  She knows how to predict situations and give me ways of dealing with them before they happen.

I feel completely comfortable sitting in that chair once a week and always look forward to going.

Then there’s EMDR.  This one is a huge challenge for me.  I struggle every week with going and it’s taken a lot of guts and gumption to keep showing up there every week. I’m not even sure why it’s such a struggle, possibly it’s a defense mechanism because while regular talk therapy has helped me cope with today’s world, EMDR focused on things that happened to me in the past and that’s hard. Really hard.

EMDR involves coming up with “target” areas to work on, things that were traumatic that happened in the past, and basically taking the sting out of those memories by using bilateral stimulation.  Bilateral stimulation is following hand movements back and forth, using a light board that blinks lights to the left or the right, or holding hand tablets in either hand that pulse.

No one is really sure why this works, and I’m truthfully not sure whether it works or not. We really haven’t started the bilateral stimulation yet because we’re still working our way up towards the “targets.”  But all I know is that this type of therapy is no walk in the park and not for the faint of heart.  Hopefully it’ll be worth it.

Finally, once a week my husband and I go to couples therapy.  This one falls right into the middle of the continuum of hard to easy therapy.  While it’s nice to have the focus be divided between my husband and I, it’s hard in knowing that my “issues” are at least partly to blame for what’s wrong in our marriage.  Here we work on communication skills, as well as intimacy issues that have arisen because of my history.  I neither look forward to, nor dread going, it just is. It can be difficult in it’s own way, however, because working on a marriage is never an easy thing.  There’s a lot of mind reading that we’re trying to break out of, as well as learning how to take turns and split the responsibilities in the relationship evenly.

So there you have it… one girl going to three very different types of therapy.  Like I said, each brings it’s own qualities to the table and each has it’s own purpose. I’m realizing that the three types represent the past (EMDR), the present (talk therapy) and the future (couples).   Each will hopefully bring help me to become a fully grounded, healthy and whole person someday.

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Personal Reflections by Christine

Child

By Christine

When I first met my therapist he asked me why I wanted therapy. I had a list of things I wanted to achieve. I memorised them before I went. To be fair he kept a straight face. He was good at not laughing at me, always. I don’t think I realised how important the ‘not laughing at me’ part was until now. I thought he would be able to tolerate me and wouldn’t be over familiar with me.  That would make it easy for me to ‘ignore’ him and ‘use’ him to work on my issues and then go off and live in a more tolerable way.

It didn’t work like that. I think I did a lot of messing around. I was childish and that had nothing to do with my ‘inner child’. I was childish because I had never grown up emotionally. I just wanted to push the boundaries in whatever way I was able. I was fed up with being good. I was angry as hell.

I was always late, without fail. Sometimes 10 minutes, sometimes 15. He never said anything about it, ever. It annoyed me that he didn’t comment on it. I wanted him to be angry. He couldn’t win of course. Not with me. It was my game and I was going to win. If he had ever said “I wonder what you’re being late is saying” I would have stopped going. I can’t bear that type of phoney counsellor speak. It’s as though he knew. I left early too. Sometimes I left after 20 minutes. Once he asked me why I was leaving so early and I said that I was finding it painful. That was a lie. The truth was I can’t bear to be rejected. Saying ‘time’s up’ is rejection for me. Far better to reject him. It took me a long time to admit that. Maybe that’s because it took me a long time to realise that.

Quite often I could not speak. I would try to say something but the words wouldn’t come at all. It was like no other experience. I found it hard to deal with my emerging self. I felt embarrassed.  Ignoring Mr Boundary helped me to cope with that. I never cry in front of other people. Yet here I was crying all the time. Very undignified.

I hated him looking at me. I’m ugly. Seeing my tears. I wanted him to go away. I told him. He still kept doing it. I still kept going. Brazen, that’s what my mother would have said. He never said much. But he paid really close attention to me, all the time. I hated it. I’d sit there and the tears would keep coming. It was like being tortured. The silence was killing me.

After a while Mr Boundary Man said to me “tell me what you need.”

How would I know?

“I need you ……….I need you to say more,” I said. “I need you to be more like a normal person.”

“What’s a normal person like for you?” he asked.

“They say more.”

I was furious with him.  He was saying that I’m mad. After that he started to say more. He never let me sit ‘alone’ again. It was like having a Dad. That made my cry too, lots. Mr Boundary Man became a person. I tried to ignore him, but he seeped in anyway. Sometimes I’d catch an expression on his face and I’d have to look away. It hurt too much.

I felt shy. But I hid it well. Sometimes I’d have nothing to say. The fact that I’d turned up at all was enough. It was nice just to sit there. I felt less alone. I remember, after a difficult time, I sent him an email saying that I needed a break for a couple of weeks. He replied and said “take as long as you need, I am willing to work with you.” I cried when I read it, long and hard. It was like having an arm put around me. I stuck it in my journal. Proof that someone cares.

I tried to stop messing around. I was surprised to hear myself talking about stuff. No agendas, just me. I tried my best not to worry about what Mr Boundary thought of me. I assumed he thought I was annoying. But he never said. Completely accepted. Endless patience. I realised that this was up to me. My responsibility. It took me ages to get that. I started to see things differently. It hurt, lots, physically and emotionally. I started to unravel. My dad became very ill. In my therapy I had come to a new understanding about my past. It was the first time I felt able to try and get to know my dad. It felt too late. It was hard to keep going.

I needed to sort myself out. I told my therapist. He was so kind it hurt. It was hard to face the loss, the enormity of it. How I’d got it all so wrong. I felt understood. He never forgot the important details. His antennae picked up on all the stuff that hurt me most and he gave it back to me when I could tolerate it. It was the first time that I was allowed to feel my feelings. No censorship.  No judgement.

I realised that messing about was only hurting me. I got angry. “There was a time when you wouldn’t have come back,” he said. It was as if he was me. I learnt what it was to have a proper relationship. To tolerate emotions, to repair damage. I felt the poverty of my past relationships. I started to stay to the end. I still couldn’t arrive on time. That would look like I needed him.  Needy me, greedy me. I felt really attached. I started to panic about having to end. “It sounds like you’ve finally separated from your mother,” he said. I felt ambivalent. I was stripped right down to my nothingness. I dug deeper. Voiced my fears. I met my therapist, face to face, adult to adult. I grew up. I didn’t need to learn my lines anymore.

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To Train or Not to Train

By Will

Poetic ambiguity and anxiety about training to become a Psychotherapist.

After millions of years of silence the talking cure emerges yapping.

The young disciples in training follow the talk, degrees in hand, in pre-genital latency. Supposedly there to help the sick, masked with dagger in hand ~ who knows more than I, the ego.

The noise from the Tavistock is deafening as the talking community scratch theory around the table without a trace of anxiety; the shrink family is arguing again while the sleeping Buddhist lion opens one eye briefly ~ Africa carry their babies on their backs in swinging security, what a funny lot!

The therapists lucky chair sits where it wants to and the magic couch lays stiff ~ But I want to sit next to you!

Bookshelves stacked with titles ablaze in the magical land of theory as tumbleweeds pass and tears fill. Please sir, can I have some more? I need to repeat this pleasurable sensation, as the clock is watched and feared ~ Gaps in chat hold golden keys.

Anna and Melanie play in the sand while Winnicott observes, trust verses mistrust, are you watching Daddy?

I don’t have a pen, but where do I sign.

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Social Media and Family

By Will

When the series Friends hit the mainstream I remember reading a piece on how friends are beginning to replace traditional family units in the 21st century. To some degree, I think this can be healthy as the traditional family unit, more often than not, does not allow individuality; it is more of an organism. What is interesting, with Twitter especially, is how I have unconsciously recreated my old family unit once again. So nothing has changed, the instinctual drives are still performing brilliantly!

Out of my few followers, I am beginning to recognise who Dad is, who Mum could be, and all those siblings that I desire to play with. This Christmas, the season for reflection and thank you’s, I witnessed universal morality and togetherness, like one huge hug with joined arms around the world. I am not saying anything has changed out there in Twitter-land, but I am aware that my view of Twitter-Land has.

When therapists take holidays, space is created and it has to be filled.

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Getting To Know The Internal Voices

internal voices

By Will

About 10 years ago a friend of mine played me a tape of Eckhart Tolle. In his unique and eire voice, Eckhart spoke of being depressed and alone in his flat in London. One morning in desperation, he said to himself ‘Why do I keep doing this to myself.’ He then thought, well if I am doing this to myself, there must be two of me. This was a huge revelation for me at the time and this dual internal premise has stayed with me ever since.

The internal on-going commentary we stand victim to on a daily basis can be relentless and life consuming. It can be quite startling when it is unpacked and looked at to see how deadening and stagnant these thoughts can be. There is a voice that berates us, tells us that we are no good, and convinces us that something dreadful is about to happen. Replacing these thoughts with positive ones ‘Californian style’ was my first port of call, but for me, I realised this did not work in the long run. Simply hearing the thoughts, allowing them to drift by and not judging them, akin to meditation, seamed to be the way foreword.

Realising and accepting that there is a part of me that is battling with my true self, a part of me that keeps me locked up in open prison, and wounds me, is painful. The inner voice loves death, risk, sex and drama and like a wolf watching a group of campers from afar, he will never come close. There is no taming of this beast, it cannot ever change, only my perception of him can. Realising that this ego will always have a voice is hard to except but some voices are louder than others and perhaps one day I can turn mine down to a whisper.

I had been anxious and depressed for years and suddenly I was deeply at peace ~ Eckhart Tolle

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Trust

By Will

There are endless stages during analysis. Like floating in the sea you are continually tossed around. Sometimes forwards, sometimes backwards and sometimes downwards. Constant movement and chaos without an absolute end result to cling to. It takes courage and perseverance to continually lay out your often out of date thought patterns and beliefs.  I often liken it to peeling back the skin from an onion. Bit by bit, layer by layer, the premise being to get down to the inner core. Some stages are painful while others are liberating and some moments seem to change perceptions for good. Some sessions can make you feel like an unprotected and vulnerable child and the following session had me feeling that way.

With my head in my hands sitting up on the couch I was trembling, anxious, emotional and distraught. I wanted to ask my therapist something. It felt so child like to ask and I imagined that my question would not receive the answer I needed to hear. My therapist never gave me advice, it was up to me to work things out by myself, and to ask this would feel like a school boy error. I felt like I was falling into pieces, my emotion was overwhelming and finally after what seemed like 30 mins of deliberating on my question, it just came out. ‘Am I going to be alright?’

The silence seemed to last forever when my therapist finally said ‘I don’t know’. His answer did not dry my tears, nor did it stop the deep pain I was experiencing but I knew that he was telling me his truth. How could he possibly know I was going to be 100% alright. Like a child bearing pain I wanted to hear ‘of course you are’ or ‘this is just part of the process.’ What I was left with was an unfamiliar feeling of realness, that I was connected to something truthful and right. That moment is when I fully trusted my therapist and the first moment I truly trusted anybody.

We’re never so vulnerable than when we trust someone – but paradoxically, if we cannot trust, neither can we find love or joy ~ W Anderson

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