Tag Archives: couch

Beyond Words

By Will

Silence is golden in the therapy chair that I have now moved back to. Far beyond the realms of any text book spouting analysis and theory, we sit in silence, engulfed by the nothingness of being. If pins did drop you would certainly be able to hear them dropping like fine rain in this open space. How can I explain how many times lately I have felt the ordinary things so deeply and shed tears “the silent language of grief.” How can I explain the moments of mindfulness having stared at a daisy like I have never seen one before, in awe of it’s transient beauty, the back of the flower just as beautiful as the front. The little moments, the little things, are not little. They are everything.

This is not therapy, this is far more than that word. It is a soulful fire and water life, shared with another human being, cloaked in 21st century attire. It is a meeting of tragedy, realisation, joyfulness and nothingness, and just like the weather, it is everything and nothing at the same time. Whatever it is, my physical body turns up to it twice a week, and often walks out from it swaying with dizziness. My Dad, my Son and my best friend are all losses and painful gains at the same time. The paradox and tragedy of death and life so much alive under the same fine umbrella that we collectively hold.

Things are not what they appear to be: nor are they otherwise ~ Surangama Sutra

Inspired by: Karin L Burke.

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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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Musical Chairs

By Will

My current course of therapy began with my therapist and I sitting facing one another. Man to man discussions involving facial expression, eye contact and movement. After a year like this I finally plucked up courage and we began to discuss the couch, which sat far away in another corner of the room. I wondered who lay on there, I wondered what would happen if I lay on there. The couch was discussed for quite sometime and eventually it seemed to take on gargantic and magical proportions. The day came when out of the blue I stood up from my chair and lay myself down. The resistance was startling. I could not see my therapist anymore and I felt isolated, watched and extremely uncomfortable. After a few weeks, lying on the couch became second nature, and I could not imagine sitting back on the chair again. Our therapy changed at that point and I was no longer as conscious of what I said or how I said it. Unfettered speech flowed and I became surprised how open I was without eye contact.

For two years our seating arrangements remained like this, until recently, when I began to feel a compulsion to sit on the floor. It felt a little crazy but I had to bring this up and for a few weeks we would discuss the possible meanings of my desire to get down on the floor. Again, one day out of the blue, I made the leap and there I was sitting cross legged in front of my therapist on the floor. This only lasted a few sessions, as it was quite uncomfortable. The next time I entered the room I took another seat next to the desk opposite my therapist. We looked at each other and we both beamed naively. Neither of us knew what was going on with all this movement, but it just seemed right.

Once again our relationship changed. We started to laugh more together and we stayed away from theory and debate. We talked about politics and art and a whole rainbow of things, and although our professional relationship remained, a new friendship seemed to begin to flourish. I started to feel a new sense of equality with him and for the first time we talked about the possibility of separation and what that meant. Later on we realised that my movement around the room mirrored the internal movements and shifts that were taking place within me. Each view point around the room gave me an alternative perspective, a new way of seeing things. It also highlighted the need to escape the pain of uncomfortable feelings and emotions. Rather than staying with these feelings I needed to move away and escape from them like a fight or flight reaction.

Often the hands will solve a mystery that the intellect has struggled with in vain ~ Carl G. Jung

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