Tag Archives: counselling

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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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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Dream Journal

dream

By Will

I was going through my dream journal and decided to share my first ever dream, which happened three years ago, when I began therapy for the second time. The dream was very short, but massively vivid and powerful; The dream took place after therapy one night.

I suddenly found myself in the bath with my analyst. At first, we smiled at each other in a surprised and innocent way. Straight after this exchange my analyst reached down below and started to touch me under the water. I refused the advances and my analyst began to paddy, thumping his hands and feet ferociously on the floor like a child. It was extremely disturbing and vivid and I remember thinking that I was more mature than him.

I knew from having therapy before that the dream had to be ‘aired and shared’ and I found myself laughing as I recounted the dream during our next session. We talked about the dream for most of the session and together we unpacked some possible meanings and realisations.

We discussed the meaning of the bath itself, which may be interpreted as a place where one literally washed oneself clean internally, shedding old ideas, opinions and negative patterns. We were in a tight place together where we could possibly remain stuck for some time. The initial smile we shared could be our true selves meeting for the first time. We discussed going to new places that are below the surface. Places we shouldn’t go. Down below; Should not be touched down there. Touching the darker shadow self would cause a huge paddy, huge resistance and the new beginnings of re-living a battle of previously held opinions and beliefs. Who knows more than who has been in control for so long. Of course ‘I’ am more mature.

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Leaving Therapy Sideways

By Will

The bravest thing I have ever done is to withdraw many of my projections. Through analysis, I have done this gradually which leaves me conscious of a pretty thick intensified shadow. I have saddled myself with new conflicts, once hidden, but I do believe that this is my only chance to live fully. Once you have had a glimpse deep inside you can never return to innocence. You could say that I have now become a serious problem for myself which is why I sometimes leave therapy sideways, I almost fall out of it onto the pavement. I no longer have such fixed views on things; he is wrong, or things should be done this way or that. Anything that happens in this world lives within me and it is my responsibility to this world and humankind to address myself fully. You think too much, is something I hear quite often or you’re too deep.

I am trying to find a way so my true self can live with this shadow, moment to moment, however frightening the experience. I feel that I am in the middle of myself listening out to my two sides and it is exhausting. Breathing into the confusion and paradox helps, and I strongly believe, although the two sides of me will never fundamentally change, that the intensity will eventually melt down into a more positive realisation and peaceful surrender to what is.

I am unable to do all of this while carrying on with more social scenarios as I cannot fully laugh knowing what is behind my laughter. I seek fellow travellers and comrades with a vengeance, usually online, so that wounds feel like they are shared. There is one part of me that I am reticent to change and that is my business head. I don’t know why I am able to run my company well and deal with problems as they arise, but for now, I need to hold onto that. Its quite bizarre listening to people nowadays. I can hear their darker self being complimentary to me, whilst having an unconscious dig, to enhance their own sense of self or visa versa. Transparency rings in my ears. Is this my paranoia or my truth? I don’t know, but I march on.

By a divine paradox, wherever there is one slave there are two ~ Edwin Markham

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Perfect Childhood

Perfect Childhood

By Will

One of the things that is hard to accept during therapy is the realisation that the childhood, we once thought of as perfect, was not. I love my parents very much, but that does not mean that they were perfect parents, as there is no such thing. Externally I was dressed well, our frequent family outings were exiting and camping holidays were spontaneous and playful. Arguments were a rare occurrence  in our home, there was little alcohol present, and my parents did as much as they could to nurture us all. Part of the difficulty in accepting our not so perfect childhood’s is because it’s not the ‘right thing’ to blame your parents. This conditioning initiated as a survival mechanism. We had to believe our parents were perfect or good enough otherwise with nobody to look after us, we would die.

As a child, I had Separation Anxiety Disorder, I was vehemently opposed to separating from my Mother, my primary caregiver or attachment figure. I was convinced that something bad would happen to her during the time that we were separated. As a child, I had convolutions or fits, which I believe, were caused by literally overheating or childhood panic attacks. Often in therapy we try to find the ‘one thing’ from our past that caused our problems. My view is that it is many things ranging from inheritance, neurological pathways and genetics but most of all very early nurturing. Not all children are the same but if we are soothed and nurtured in the areas that, we need to be, we can slowly internalise this for ourselves.

Many of us find it impossible to remember specific periods in childhood where our caregivers were unable to nurture us in the way we needed to be. Therefore, all we are left with, is our current relationships we have with others, which can hold some golden keys into becoming fully human. We need to fully work through these relationships and bear in mind our parents were the first people we loved deeply. Our first loves often leave us with the wounds that we carry with us for the rest of our lives and at the core of all intimacy issues is the fear of loss. Problems arise when we are either too close or too distant from our parents. Im my case it was the former. As I was so engulfed I found it hard to find my own psychological space and I developed a controlling fear of loosing myself.

Childhood is a promise that is never kept ~ Ken Hill

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Throw Theory Out The Window

By Will

I am fascinated in the relationship Jung and Freud had, from their closeness to their bitter separation. Concealed in their letters to each other there is an undertone of power and righteous ownership bathed in hermeneutics. I imagine a fight to the death and winners and losers. An evil cock fight wherein the bloody struggle is fought in the basement, while up on the roof and out in the open, theories fly proud like flags. Everything seemed to be at stake, as each man’s questioning of the others views called into doubt the others explanation of his whole life.

I notice this juxtaposition or power struggle with my analyst, when theory is thrown at each other, or should I say, when I throw theory back at him. I have found that I tend do this after an episode where my true self has opened up. I may have cried and felt hopeless and vulnerable during a previous session. When I have shown him my underbelly I feel like the powerless underdog, who is unbalanced, so I try to regain control through theory and debate. I wonder who taught me to compete this way and why I feel the need to compete and to win and what indeed was the prize? For whom is the battle being rein-acted for.

For me, I have made most of my important gains, and losses, where no theory exists. When our relationship is paramount and we share special moments, thats when the sparks fly. Rare and heartfelt admissions, on my analysts behalf, seem to rebalance our relationship and enable tenderness. It allows me a sense that we are together on this journey, and that it’s our journey, not just my own personal gravel path. In fact when my own analyst qualified, his analyst said to him; now forget all you have been taught and throw all theory out of the window. Perhaps he is my Grandfather.

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Timing

By Will

Three years ago I entered therapy again for the second time. I arrived wearing a smart jacket, and I was ready to do business. I had 5 years of therapy in my twenties so I was there for some CBT. Six sessions or so and this anxiety would vanish, there was no need to dig deeper, I had done that before. Resistance ran high when my therapist stated he did not practice CBT. I pressed, and asked for two sessions a week, like I had last time. I could do this for a while and then I would be sorted. My therapist cleverly recommended that we should start with one session and I reluctantly agreed.

I can see now that from the very start I was trying to control a situation where I had no control. My first and only child had been born prematurely, who I desperately wanted to see, and I was in a sweat. The dark clouds were circling once again, a storm was brewing up. I did not know who I was or what I stood for. Was this a breakdown? I would sit rocking and shaking one minute and be telling jokes and cracking people up the next. I now refer to this time as my nervous breakthrough. I had come apart. Without realising it my dark self had totally overshadowed my true nature and I was split right down the middle.

A long time after this first session my therapist told me that when he first saw me he thought that I looked like a boy in his fathers clothes, they were too big for me. He thought, this is a boy who needs a father! When I told him about my new born son, he thought, well if this boy does not have a father, how can he look after his own, and there goes the panic. He said he usually finds that on his first meeting with people his instincts usually hold a key. Timing was crucial as I think if he had told me his instincts from the start I would have ran a mile.
 


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Is Therapy Working?

By Will

The big question that comes up time and time again in therapy is results focused. Is this therapy doing me any good? Is it making me worse? For me, I have discovered that therapy is both those things. If indeed a false self was created as a child, as a way of coping with deficiencies of their parents, then a deep groove has been cut into oneself, a pattern has emerged, one branch of the tree has began to grow away from the main trunk. Trees do not grow straight, they bend and bow towards the light, so part of us slips further and further and more distant from our true nature. As such, much of my anguish is based on a fixed idea of how things are supposed to be, but when that idea is not met, my nemesis the wolf comes in and shows its teeth.

In one respect I am now reading situations with more clarity, like never before, a new fresh day has come. I know when I am angry and I can breathe deeply into it, disappointments no longer resonate as much, these feelings always pass. In another respect I feel that I have regressed with my feet placed firmly in adolescence or even earlier in the labour of birth. Neuroses seem to have intensified and generalised anxiety can be heightened to what can seem like a dangerous level. I stay in much of the time as I feel that its only the wolf that wants to go out and dance with its ego. So the once unnoticed driving forces I was unaware of have been illuminated, there’s nowhere to hide anymore, the process is fully underway.

Many Psychotherapists and scholars believe that we cannot ever change intrinsically, and I believe this too. However, the wind now makes me smile, I watch stressed out children and my eyes are filled with tears, the grass feels amazing beneath my feet and I tickle my back at night and it feels good. If I acknowledge all the rough edges of my humanness – Pain, Courage, Fear and Celebration and I ask myself if Therapy is working, the answer would be that I am learning how to love more deeply. The heart is breaking open and communion with oneself, just occasionally, has a sacred order.

I yearn for understanding, and yet I fear, I am further from the answers, than ever before ~Abigail Baker

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