Relief or Change? Which is the Most Meaningful?

Jack, a forty-three-year-old insurance executive, was referred to me by his family doctor for help with severe panic attacks that had suddenly begun for reasons that were completely unclear to both of them. Jack's symptoms were disabling and resulted in his missing work for several days before his initial appointment with me.

In the first session, I listened to him describe his difficult breathing, chest pains, sleeplessness, occasional choking episodes, along with his fear of losing complete control and “going crazy.” He told me that he has always been an anxious person and had contemplated entering psychotherapy for several years, but never actually did…until now.

Like what you are reading? For more stimulating stories, thought-provoking articles and new video announcements, sign up for our monthly newsletter.

The initial consultation with Jack was, in my view, a mixed success. According to Jack however, it was “an unbelievable success.” We were able to quickly identify the sources of his current anxiety symptoms, which almost immediately provided him with some much-needed relief. We began to outline some of the likely goals of the ongoing therapy he was “very happy to be starting, finally,” and for which he eagerly arranged his next appointment with me.

As the session wore on, I began to feel concerned that the initial and speedy benefits of this first session might have implications for Jack's ability to fully engage in the challenging, ongoing work of psychotherapy, something I believed he needed and from which he could derive greater benefit than immediate symptom relief only. I became especially concerned when Jack described his first session as “maybe the best hour of my life!” and described me as “undoubtedly, the best therapist in America!” That's when I thought, I probably will never see Jack again.

As it turned out, Jack did attend his second session, and a third, and described the continuing benefits of the work thus far. He was hardly symptomatic, felt “great,” no longer thought that he was “losing it,” and was wondering whether or not he really needed therapy after all. Somewhat surprisingly, he asked me to tell him what I thought he should do. In order to help Jack figure this out for himself as much as possible, I did what any therapist worth their stripes would likely do as a first response to such a question: I asked Jack to try and decide independently of my input, so that we could both learn something about his attitudes, thoughts, and feelings, rather than have him simply react to mine. My input followed and consisted of my ideas about the differences between relief and change, with the latter, obviously, being the more ambitious pursuit and perhaps the more durable. I also was mindful, as always, that for some people, relief may be all they want or need. Not everyone wishes to or has the wherewithal to undertake a full course of psychotherapy, especially if they are not in active distress.

After a meaningful conversation about his dilemma, i.e. to stay or to go, Jack decided that he was quite happy with what had occurred and chose not to pursue further therapy at the time. He asked for and received assurance that my door would always be open, and we both acknowledged that we may or may not ever see each other again. He left describing himself as the “three-session wonder.” I later heard from his physician that he was doing quite well, with no further panic attacks. It led me to wonder whether or not I should revise my thinking to include the fact that sometimes and for some people, relief is change, and not necessarily something less or less meaningful.

Redesign Your Mind in an Instant

Wouldn’t it be lovely if you were able to help clients make real, significant, lasting changes right on the spot, just by providing them with a certain frame and by inviting them to do a little on-the-spot visualizing? I have. You can.

Philosophers from Marcus Aurelius to the Buddha concerned themselves with the idea that “you are what you think.” Nowadays, this age-old notion is typically explored using ideas and techniques from cognitive-behavioral therapy. These ideas have resonated for many of my clients and have been quite useful in our therapeutic work. But there is an important next step to take.

Like what you are reading? For more stimulating stories, thought-provoking articles and new video announcements, sign up for our monthly newsletter.

By providing clients with the metaphor of “the room that is your mind,” I have helped them visualize “the place where they think”—really, “the place where they live”—and help them instantly change and upgrade that “place.” This simple metaphoric frame has created powerful, on-the-spot results.

In a very few words, I explain to my client that it is in their power to redesign and redecorate the room that is their mind. Then I move right onto giving some examples of what that redesigning might look like: adding windows so that a breeze can blow through, reducing inner claustrophobia; adding a calmness switch, producing immediate calm; adding an exit door, out of which repetitive, obsessive thoughts can be scooted; or repainting the walls a bright color, so as to reduce the experience of sadness.

What is rather amazing is that my clients “get” this idea instantly. They have often said that no one had ever invited them to picture their mind room before and that, without knowing it, they had been waiting for this invitation.

I was recently chatting with an interviewer about my forthcoming book, Redesign Your Mind, in which this technique is described. Even as we were speaking—even as he was asking me questions and I was answering them—he was doing this redesign work. I could tell. Then, suddenly, he smiled and said, “I’ve just repainted the walls in my mind room and I can feel the difference.” The brain is brilliant at this sort of thing, if it is presented with the invitation and offered even just the briefest of explanations.

A few days later I wrote to the interviewer, whom we’ll call John, and asked him to share his experience. What had that felt like, spontaneously doing that work right on the spot? How was it that he had done that work without my hinting or suggesting that he do it—had his own brain instantly “decided” that it was imperative that he try out the idea and paint those walls a new, bright color? Did the change that occurred feel real and significant, even fundamental? Had the change lasted?

John replied:

“The effects I experienced when you began to explain this to me were quite profound and instantaneous. It was straightforward. You told me I could put anything into the ‘room that is my mind’ such as a ‘calmness switch’ that could be flipped whenever I needed it. I pictured a red light switch, and when I flipped it, I immediately became calm, and felt it both mentally and in my body.

“You helped me construct my ideal living room, and when I painted the walls, I immediately began to experience pleasure in the color. I put large, clean windows in the room, some open so that the breeze from the beach made the flowing white curtains dance. I felt calm and joy and peace in my body, as well as my mind. And it’s not just about calm. There's a breastplate in the corner that I can don to immediately feel courageous and ready to take on the tasks I need to.

“There's also a free speech platform I can mount when I want to privately engage in any thought exercise. And there’s a back door to exit the room. As a person diagnosed with PTSD, I can utilize this to help reframe my perceptions of past events, heal, and press on with the tasks associated with my goals in life. Thank you. Thank you.”

Clients immediately brighten up when I discuss this with them. There is something amazingly invigorating about the idea of redesigning one’s mind. Maybe it puts folks in mind of magazine ads of beautiful rooms that have stirred them and moved them. Maybe the metaphor strikes them as achingly right. Maybe their “inner architect” or “inner designer” is suddenly engaged. Or maybe it simply matches their felt experience, that there is a place where they go and that they can change the look of that place—and their experience of that place.

Rather than having to arm-wrestle negative thoughts to the ground, dream up thought substitutes, or do any of the blocking, disputing, reframing, substituting, or other heavy lifting techniques from cognitive-behavioral therapy, a client gets to smile a little and laugh a little as she zips right off to her mind room. There she can change the furniture, replace her usual bed of nails with an easy chair, install a pressure release valve for immediate stress relief, or do something else quick, brilliant, and useful.

I have found this “redesign your mind” technique very helpful in addressing many challenges clients bring to our work. For the client who lacks confidence and who is having trouble speaking up, she can be invited to create a Speaker’s Corner (like the famous one in Hyde Park in London) where she can practice saying important, dangerous-feeling things in complete safety. Whether the issue is depression, anxiety, addiction, procrastination, healing from trauma, or loneliness—whatever the issue may be—there is bound to be some simple subtraction or addition she can make to her mind room that will immediately change the thoughts she thinks and her experience of life.

I invite you to look into this technique, and perhaps into your own mind room, and even, perhaps, the one you inhabit with your clients.

Less Treatment, More Therapy

"Yo, call me back ASAP!,” read the text message from Carl, a 20-year-old man who has self-identified as a gang member for the past seven years and who has struggled with anxiety and depressive symptoms, alongside antisocial personality traits.

I had an impulse to explain boundaries to Carl but decided against it. I knew that a dispassionate instructional ACA-type lecture would be distancing—especially via text.

Carl has been in counseling with me for three years as a requirement of his probation. He is a member of a local gang who has mentioned how his affiliation got him into trouble while growing up. He also shared his initial fear of telling me he was in a gang because of how I might “react” to him. I maintained a neutral position.

Like what you are reading? For more stimulating stories, thought-provoking articles and new video announcements, sign up for our monthly newsletter.

Gangs were part of the social fabric of Carl’s youth—I, too, was gang affiliated. Thus, I was personally familiar with that life, but I believe that it was because I have historically been the only Black male therapist in most of the psychiatric settings in which I worked that I was often given complex and challenging cases. This often meant working with male gang members and other males who had been charged with sex offenses (perhaps a story for another time).

I returned Carl's call because I was concerned that he had done something inappropriate with which I could help him. I was also mindful of my own insecurity. I felt as though little progress had been made in our work. Carl was also inconsistent with taking medication prescribed by his psychiatrist and in attending sessions with me. Yet he constantly told me how much he “appreciated” working with me. I viewed his text as a plea that might allow me to do something meaningful with him. I hadn’t gotten his message quite yet.

Carl answered the phone on the first ring. “I am sorry about the capital letters in my text, I don't want you to worry about me. Do you have time to talk?”

He went on to say, “I need some therapy right now.” Carl mentioned that after a domestic dispute with his girlfriend, she had been considering leaving him. “I don't know why I'm so angry” and “I wish I could get over this anger,” Carl cried.

This was refreshing and far different from Carl's usual sessions, which he tended to begin with a detached, “I'm doing good. I am safe and in good health.” Eventually, I came to realize that after being in both penal and psychiatric institutions, he was used to giving knee-jerk responses to risk assessment questionnaires. After his pleasantries, there was always a laborious discussion of his video game adventures. Today was different, although I did not understand how at that exact point.

Instead, I felt anxious in that moment. This may have been my own internal reaction to Carl's sense of anxiety. However, I also felt a strong inclination to capitalize on Carl's plea for help and felt as if I needed to come up with a clever “intervention.” I had to strike while the iron was hot. Should I use CBT? I could re-emphasize the cognitive model to Carl and how his distorted thinking contributed to his ongoing patterns of anger. No. Carl had already admonished me in the past for using “big words,” referring to clinical jargon.

Maybe, EMDR?! Could some eye movements mollify his intensity? While I am trained in both interventions—and believe they have some merit—I thought it might be better to just shut up and let Carl talk.

After a while of silent sobbing, Carl exclaimed, “I think I know what this is.” He paused.

“I used to be soft” in grade school, he went on, and after years of bullying he stood up for himself. “That's when I learned that I could fight,” said Carl, his voice cracking as he held back more tears. Carl mentioned that after a while, he learned to become the aggressor as a preemptive way of sending a message that he was a formidable opponent.

I felt stuck. Was now the time for an intervention? I fought against the impulse. Instead, I simply asked, “How do you feel now?” Carl shared that he had felt a little better and that he was glad that he could “get this off my chest.” Ironically enough, almost immediately after this revelation, the call dropped. The call dropping likely saved me from myself. I had an urge to say, “I just want you to know that you're not that little boy anymore.” I probably heard this line somewhere from a supervisor in the past. I do not actually believe it. Carl knows full well that he is not the little child who was bullied, although he might still feel like it.

I wish I could say that Carl no longer expresses anger in an unhealthy manner. I believe that it will take more than one 45-minute session for that. However, I do trust that the session was meaningful to him (and in retrospect, to me as well). He appreciated that I listened to him. I appreciated that the session felt like real therapy. It involved all of the ingredients that make therapy special: attunement, minimal encouragers, brief re-statements, warmth, empathy, compassion, the list goes on.

While still a relatively new clinician, I find myself frustrated and impatient with the mental health industry. In my brief time practicing, I have noticed that I am encouraged to quickly create and implement rigid and concrete treatment plans with goals and objectives that might say things like “decrease frequency of anger by 30% by such and such date.” I am not saying we should abandon these measures. They have a place. However, it creates a false sense of urgency to “do” something in sessions in lieu of “being” myself.

I have been in my own therapy for a few years. A secret that I have not shared is that I would cringe if my own therapist held rigidly to one treatment modality. I appreciate that she is flexible and willing to meet me where I am. However, the issues I often bring to counseling pertain to deeper questions I have about the contradictory elements of life. I do not know if the cognitive model can get me through that.

It is seductive and somewhat satisfying to have a ready list of tools and interventions that I can provide to clients. It makes me feel smart and prepared. It is not as sexy to promote the tried-and-true skills that have been empirically validated. As a disclaimer, I am not saying I reject these treatment modalities. If that were the case, I would not have spent 80+ hours learning them after graduate school—I think. I am simply saying that I should not disregard the elements of psychotherapy that have, time after time, proven themselves effective in my work with clients.

I founded a clinical think tank centered on helping gang-affiliated adolescents. It began in New York and expanded to Denver. Over the four-year course of mobilizing clinicians to research evidence-based interventions to help this population (there are none), what keeps coming up are the same principles that work with Carl.

I am reminded of how fascinating it is when I ask clients what they find helpful about working with me. I almost never hear anything about a specific intervention. What I do hear is that I am “kind,” I am “engaging,” I “relate well” with them, I am there for them during difficult times, I am “real,” and other similar sentiments.

As I look back at my three years with Carl, I can see that I have been unfairly critical of myself. I had viewed our relationship as ineffectual up to that moment I discussed at the outset of this essay. I focused on select symptoms (i.e., anger) and his inconsistency in coming to sessions (I told myself that if I were a better therapist, he would not miss sessions and he would be less angry). However, I mistakenly dismissed the fact that he often expressed his appreciation for me and had adamantly refused to work with anyone else in the past. I also ignored the fact that someone who defines themselves as “solid as concrete” is capable of being vulnerable with me.

Carl appreciates me because I strive to connect with him. For the past three years, he has known he has at least one person who doesn't view him as just a gang member or someone who is antisocial. He can look forward to my showing a genuine interest in him as a person as opposed to probing for tendencies that may deviate from the norms of society.
It is my hope that fellow therapists seek to be human with their clients prior to employing so-called standardized interventions in a reactive, knee-jerk fashion. Perhaps more of a focus on therapy and less on treatment protocols will allow for the true healing power that comes with the relationship, which I thoroughly believe is the element that heals.

A Universe Opens: Reflections On My First Session as a Therapist

“Know all the theories, master all the techniques, but as you touch a human soul, be just another human soul.” —Carl G. Jung

As I stare down at the piece of paper holding a few clues to the vast mystery that will be my first-ever client, I feel a universe come into existence, a wide expanse full of potential and possibilities. The past year-and-a-half of didactic and experiential training has culminated here, in this very moment. All that I had previously read and thought about were finally lifting off the pages, out of my mind, and into the here-and-now in the form of a dynamic, real-life therapist-client relationship. As Sanmao, a Chinese feminist writer, put it, “What I learned on paper, I felt, was knowledge that had not yet been tested.” There I was — hours away from testing the knowledge I’d accumulated on a real-life, non-pretend client—sitting in the tension of opposing “what ifs:” “What if I forget everything I learned?,” “What if I’m terrible at being another human soul?,” “What if the theories are wrong?,” “What if none of the theories are applicable to me, or the client?,” “What if the theories are right?,” “What if it actually works?!”

Like what you are reading? For more stimulating stories, thought-provoking articles and new video announcements, sign up for our monthly newsletter.

To alleviate some of the angst-citement—a cocktail of angst and excitement I was feeling, I decided to reach out to a handful of therapist friends—some licensed supervisors, some only a few months ahead of me—and solicit tips they might offer an intern who was about to go into their first-ever session, things they wish a mentor had told them as they were stepping into their role as a therapist for the first time. Here’s a mosaic of what they shared:

  • Check your excitement and adrenaline at the door. As exciting as it is, you are ultimately there for them.
  • Be genuine and be yourself. You don’t need to be a blank slate or do anything to prove yourself. If you’re an expressive person, allow yourself to be expressive!
  • Relate to the patient and be kind. If nothing else, focus on making yourself and the client comfortable. Validate however the client shows up in the therapy session—there’s no such thing as too much or not enough. Follow your curiosity and get to know them.
  • Ask them what they want to work on or change in their life, and then work on what they are ready and willing to work on.
  • Sit with them in their feelings. Don’t try to make them feel better. Instead, help them better feel by exploring and understanding their feelings.
  • Give them permission to feel. You can say, “I imagine if I were in your position, I might feel… Do you feel any of that?” This helps them feel less alone for something they might be feeling but are unable or afraid to name.
  • Don’t be afraid to create space. If you get flustered and don’t know what to say, you can say, “I just want to sit with this for a second before deciding where to go next or what else to explore.” You can also say, “I don’t know where to go from here,” and ask them if they have a sense of where they’d like to go next. Silence doesn’t always need to be filled. Space is comfortable and useful when it is intentional, and we make it intentional by acknowledging it: “I want to take a breath around that before saying anything. That’s a lot that you’ve been holding.”
  • Less is more. Provide a space for them to share. Bear witness to their unfolding. You don’t need to interpret, fix, advise, or do much.
  • Help your client cross the river by feeling the stones. Set small, achievable goals so they feel like progress can be made.
  • Take a moment to remember it afterwards. It’s your first one, and that’s exciting!

***

Upon wrapping up my first session, I felt a tremendous sense of relief—relief that my client hadn’t asked me whether this was my first session (though if they had, I was prepared to say something along the lines of, “If it were, what does that bring up for you?”), and relief that I’d made it to the other side of what felt like a tipping point in the evolution of this career and calling. Reflecting on the random scribbles I’d made during the session, a few twinkling stars began to emerge against the dark expanse of a nascent universe—the dawning of a new constellation, of a new relationship, with all its mystery and magic.

Laurie Helgoe on the Power and Challenges of Introversion

An Inner Laboratory

Lawrence Rubin: How would you, as a person, a clinician, a researcher, and a writer, define introversion?
Laurie Helgoe:
if you think of where you do your processing, where you work things out, where your laboratory is—it’s internal for an introvert
Introversion at its simplest is an inward orientation. If you think of where you do your processing, where you work things out, where your laboratory is—it’s internal for an introvert. In contrast, the extrovert’s laboratory is more external, and this difference translates to a lot of things. Introverts go inward to think things through. If there’s a question to be answered, like the one you just asked me, I might pause and kind of go inside myself to try to work out the answer before I speak. An extrovert might do that work interactively by giving you a partial answer and then engaging you in a back-and-forth until that answer is fully worked out. There’s not one “right” way, but the challenge for an introvert is if there’s not that space to go inside.

So, there’s a lot that goes with that. Many introverts talk about feeling energized through solitude. Part of that is just because they don’t have anything intruding on their thought process and kind of relax into it more easily.
LR: Being energized through solitude is interesting because we seem to live in a society in which we’re taught, or encouraged, or modeled, to seek energizing through connection, through activity, through accomplishment, through the immediacy of social media. So does that inherently place introverts against the current in our society?
LH: I think so, and that is why many introverts end up feeling bad about themselves or feeling that there’s something wrong, because we have these portrayals of the fun in life, the energizing aspects of life, as being social. I remember when one of the major phone carriers had this “friends and family” ad where one person was surrounded by this mob of people. That just sold me because it did just the opposite of what it intended because that looked like hell to me. Somehow, having that easy connection with this mob of friends and family was supposed to be what people wanted. And then when I think of the sitcom Friends, which just had a reunion show, there was the idea that people could just randomly pop into my space and I would always enjoy having them on the couch.

I think there are a lot of ways that introverts wonder things like, “Why aren’t I having fun at this party?” and “Why can’t I wait to get home and have what is considered fun for me?”
None of that fit for me, so I think there are a lot of ways that introverts wonder things like, “Why aren’t I having fun at this party?” and “Why can’t I wait to get home and have what is considered fun for me?” And in their case, that would mean getting back to a great book, or walking their dog, or just reading with space around them.
LR: I go back to that interesting analogy you made of the introvert having this internal laboratory. Is that contrasted with the extrovert, whose laboratory is the stage rather than a private enclave, and if so, does the introvert shy away from the public stage because that’s not where they process and how they process?
LH: Right. That’s an interesting question, because I happen to enjoy acting and I’m an introvert. But I think, and this is what reveals the complexity of introverts and extroverts, is that each may have different aspects, different ways in which people are introverted or extroverted. For example, public speaking is a common fear that is not confined to introverts. There are many extroverts who are terrified of public speaking despite the interest in and programming for obtaining external rewards—to get those smiles, to get those responses from others. In fact, there are dopaminergic pathways that reinforce external rewards, and these light up for the extrovert when they are socially stimulated.

I think introverts like me who enjoy the stage like teaching, acting, and performing in front of others, and particularly like the fact that they can do it in a structured way
There are fMRI findings and studies which show that introverts respond pretty much the same to images of flowers or people, whereas extroverts are very much more responsive to people-related stimuli. But while these positive, people-related stimuli can engage extroverts, they can also distract them from seeing the whole picture. Extroverts can in a way distort reality toward the positive because they really like these people-related rewards. It would be an extroverted kind of characteristic for someone to like the stage. That said, I think introverts like me who enjoy the stage like teaching, acting, and performing in front of others, and particularly like the fact that they can do it in a structured way, one that they planned and practiced for as opposed to being put on the spot. This is because when introverts are put on the spot, they don’t have time to go to their laboratory.

Misconceptions

LR: I’m fascinated by the notion of the inner laboratory—it has almost an Eastern sound to it. This makes me wonder if the so-called “extrovert ideal” is more of the dominant Western narrative, and that the benefits of introversion have only recently been recognized along with mindfulness practice and the integration of Buddhism into the clinical landscape.
LH:
in Eastern cultures, it can be the opposite, where extroverts are seen as a little weird or really out there
It’s so interesting you raise that, because there has been a lot of research suggesting just what you’re saying, which is that there is a very strong bias toward happiness in our culture—but a specific kind of happiness. Even the studies that have shown extroverts to be happier only tend to look at one facet of happiness, which is a high arousal-positive affect. But the research doesn’t look at low arousal-positive affect such as feeling tranquil and at peace, the chill feelings that are more valued by introverts. And so, you have this kind of culture-personality mismatch, which can lead introverts to feeling badly about themselves. In Eastern cultures, it can be the opposite, where extroverts are seen as a little weird or really out there. And there’s a puzzlement about this so-called American (extrovert) personality. So yes, I think there is some balance that is slowly being introduced as we look toward and value more contemplative practice in our society.
LR: Since we are this doing-connecting-running-accomplishing-externalizing type of culture, what misconceptions do clinicians need to know surrounding introversion and the introvert, such as the introvert and the schizoid personality are similar?
LH: I’m sure you were attuned to this when the DSM-5 was in development, but there was a proposal on the table to include the term “introversion” in a number of diagnostic categories as an indicator, as a symptom. But there was a loud outcry to that because what really was being referred to in the DSM was a kind of disengagement, and the problem with seeing introversion as disengagement is that it’s actually just the opposite. A healthy introvert may be quiet in a conversation, although not all introverts are disengaged. There is a continuum. Oftentimes, the reason why introverts are quiet is because we ARE engaged, because we’re processing, because we’re trying to make sense of what the other person is saying rather than the opposite, which is disengagement. We may put on good poker faces so that it seems that we’re kind of schizoid or not there. And sometimes introverts do need to make the point of narrating our process. Saying “Yeah, I’m thinking about this, just give me a second.”

so this idea that introversion is a pathological indicator is extremely problematic
So this idea that introversion is a pathological indicator is extremely problematic. I think most people who study introversion and extroversion see them as neutral categories and that there can be problems associated with either. If we look at mental health disorders, some of the impulse control disorders like substance use are more prevalent in extroverts, whereas for introverts, the internalizing disorders like depression and anxiety can be more prevalent.
LR: I am reminded of the Achenbach scales, which suggest that the externalizing disorders are more typically relegated to men and the internalizing disorders, like depression and anxiety, are more common among women. So, I wonder if there is a gender line that also contributes to the introversion/extroversion schism?
LH:
women have a harder time getting permission to be introverted
The gender differences aren’t as great as you might think. While I don’t have those figures right in front of me, one thing that’s notable is that women have a harder time getting permission to be introverted. We tend to think of the man as the strong, silent type, whereas a woman might just be considered the B-word or a snob if she’s not engaged. We have a lot of expectations on women to be the social kind of glue in our society. I think actually men are a little bit more prevalent in terms of the numbers, but they are not that different.
LR: I think I might have jumped ahead of myself. Can we go back and discuss other misconceptions around introversion?
LH: So, I think one is that there’s some kind of pathological disengagement. Another one is that introverts are shy, which is probably the most common misconception. While introverts can indeed be shy, so too can extroverts. The way that introversion is classically understood is that we are internally oriented, and our social way of engaging may be a bit different. We like a little more space in our interactions. We probably like fewer people. But all of that comes back to the level of stimulation. And I think of Hans Eysenck's level of cortical arousal and the idea that the sweet spot for everyone is in the middle, where we’re not too stimulated and we’re not bored. But extroverts tend to get cortically bored. They tend to crave more stimulation, so they’re trying to move in the direction of more stimulation to get to their middle, whereas introverts are trying to tone things down more to get to their middle.

So, for example, I’m at a party and I’m with a shy person. I, being pretty socially introverted, might be hanging on the sidelines because I kind of like being there. And there’s probably somebody there who’s a little quieter who I might want to talk to. I might really enjoy observing or just taking a break. A shy extrovert standing next to me might really, really want to be in there and just doesn’t know how. There might be a lot of self-consciousness and that kind of thing. Now again, these variables can overlap, but I think it’s much more helpful to see them as separate.
LR: This may be the pushy extroversive side of me, Laurie, but can you think of any others before we move?
LH:
there’s even a misconception or assumption that introverts really don’t have a personality—you know, that they’re kind of bland
Another one is that introverts are snobs. And this again might be due to the poker face. In the U.S., we love smile emojis, and we expect this very exuberant, outward-oriented evidence that a person is engaged, or present, or responsive. And if we don’t get that, the readiness is to assume that that person maybe doesn’t like me or is non-approving and stuck up. There’s even a misconception or assumption that introverts really don’t have a personality—you know, that they’re kind of bland. But if you just took a peek inside the laboratory, you’d find otherwise.
LR: I don’t know if this is a misconception, but there’s been a little bit of buzz in the literature about the overlap in some ways between introversion and autism. Is that a dangerous connection to make clinically?
LH: I know there has been talk that introversion is like [what used to be called] Asperger’s. I think if it helps us understand the autism spectrum in a different way, it may be useful. But I don’t know that it is the case and honestly, I haven’t gone that direction myself because we’re trying to link something up that may not be helpful and could be quite the opposite.

I’m all for the direction of us de-pathologizing most things, right? I think there is agreement around communication difficulties associated with autism spectrum disorders and there may also be some for some introverts. There may be some ways in which the spectrum would explain some aspects of their behavior.

LR: I can see what you’re saying in terms of this societal tendency to pathologize anything that’s considered different. We just tend to “other” the hell out of each other, so clinicians need to be very wary of looking for or building connections between introversion and pathology or problematic issues based upon misconceptions.

Introverts and COVID

LR: How did introverts fare during the isolation and social distancing of the COVID pandemic—heaven or hell?
LH: In fact, I was just looking at some recent findings on that, and introverts did for the most part thrive, although there certainly are variations. While extroverts had a hard time, with reported deterioration in their mental health, there were certain challenges that isolation created for introverts. Surprisingly, there was a time in history where all of a sudden, introverts were being asked, “How do you do this? How do you manage being alone? How do you manage this?” So, if nothing else, I think there was a sense that what we have is valued and has survival value—because we did. We all were safer because people stayed in their zones because they were able to socially distance themselves and to spend more time alone.
LR:
so, during this time of forced isolation, those who have historically been quite fine with solitary and internal lives became the experts in teaching the rest of society
So, during this time of forced isolation, those who have historically been quite fine with solitary and internal lives became the experts in teaching the rest of society. You mentioned the word “thrive,” and that introverts were called upon for their expertise.
LH: I can use myself as an example. I am still mostly working from home, where I teach and work with a lot of students. In my traditional face-to-face classrooms, we have an open office plan, which does not necessarily work well at all for having conversations and is overstimulating for introverts. But what is paradoxically true for me and others of my colleagues is that from home, I now engage better because I can have a conversation on-screen with a student or a colleague from the quiet of my home office. I don’t have to worry about privacy or having to find a special room because of that open floor plan. From home, I can be in a place that reflects me—we might even talk about my paintings that are sitting behind me or the view outside the student’s window, which might be snow, while I’m in Barbados. We get to connect in a more personal way because we have this home-to-home kind of connection. So I have actually found that this forced isolation has enhanced my relationships, because they have become a little more contained and kind of safe in cyberspace.
LR: Is safety a concern for introverts? And as I even ask the question, I wonder if some clinicians out there are wondering if this need for safety suggests some kind of earlier trauma.
LH:
introverts tend to be more guardians of privacy
What I mean by safety is the freedom from bombardment and overstimulation, but it can also mean the protection of privacy. Introverts tend to be more guardians of privacy, both for themselves and in relationships.
LR: Prior to COVID, I had a strict closed-door policy for that very reason, while other colleagues whose doors were always open seemed to spend far more time gabbing than working. Did you find any other differences in the ways that introverts and extroverts fared during the pandemic?
LH: One thing I know from academia is that there’s evidence that everybody’s working more since we’ve gone online. Introducing new platforms and having a lot of Zoom meetings can definitely result in social fatigue when you’re constantly on screen.

the introverts I know who have struggled the most are the ones who have extroverted family members at home
But the introverts I know who have struggled the most are the ones who have extroverted family members at home, or kids that they are locked in with and from whom they normally get a break from. I know I’ve missed some of my introvert haunts, like the coffee shop I go to work and the movie theater. I like places in the world where I can be quiet and where I can view, you know, kind of be a flâneur (I wish we had an English word equivalent). I like the idea of the passionate observer who is out and about, but not engaged in a direct way—I do get energized by that. So, I think there definitely are ways in which introverts have missed out. And certainly, we have close relationships, so it’s been very hard to be separated from family and friends, because introverts are not necessarily loners. I’ve talked to introverts who have grieved a loved one who they described as their “comfortable person.” For introverts, it’s hard work to do small talk, so we rely more on our comfortable people.

LR: And I would imagine that older people who have historically been accustomed to face-to-face contact don’t find the same level of comfort on the screen.

In Therapy

LR: I don’t imagine that people come to therapy because they are suffering from introversion. And while I was initially going to begin by asking about the challenges that introverts bring to therapy, I’d like instead to ask how therapy can tap into the strengths and resources that introverts possess?
LH:
analysis was a space where I could sort out the fact that I was at odds with the way my lifestyle was set up and how it wasn’t working for me
The first thing that came to mind when you said, “Introverts aren’t necessarily going to come in and say I’m suffering from introversion,” was that they might in some way say, “I’m suffering from society,” which is what was going on for me when I went through psychoanalysis. I talk about it in my book and how it really was the starting point for the book and for a lot of healing for me. Analysis was a space where I could sort out the fact that I was at odds with the way my lifestyle was set up and how it wasn’t working for me. It was important to finally put a name to it—that I was an introvert. I realized that I needed things that my life wasn’t providing, so I started to make some radical changes in my life.

So in therapy, you might have people saying things like they are getting hassled at work because they’re not outgoing enough, or who feel bad about themselves because they are at odds with society. It can be very, very helpful for clients to be able to put a name to it. I can point to so many people who have talked about that transformative moment when they said, “Ah, I’m an introvert. That’s why. Okay.” But, I think it typically depends on how that’s delivered.

That’s the beauty of a Myers-Briggs Type indicator, although some have criticized its psychometric properties. It really does describe each personality type in a strengths-oriented way, so people then can see themselves mirrored in that positive way. Instead of thinking that they are the problem that needs to be fixed, they have permission instead to engage in their lives in a way that works better for them.
LR: Do you ever feel compelled to point out to a client that they are introverted, or is that not always necessary?
LH: I would, and it may not even be that the word “introversion” is necessary. But I think it does help because there are a lot of characteristics that come with somebody who’s an internal processor. They might not think on their feet so well or they need space in conversations. If they have a spouse that always wants to do things or who always wants to talk, the introvert may wonder, “Why don’t I love my spouse or my partner because I don’t want to talk or do things all the time, and sometimes I want space for myself?” I might tell them, “Well, it sounds like you’re an introvert,” and they might say, “Oh, what’s that?” While most people know, I’m surprised that some people haven’t or don’t really reflect on being an introvert. I didn’t, and I’m a psychologist who didn’t really reflect on what that meant about me until well into my practice years.
LR: Do you find that it’s liberating for these clients once you tell them or suggest to them that they are introverted?
LH:
I get letters from readers all the time that say, “All I needed to know is that there really isn’t anything wrong with me, and there are other people like me.”
It’s tremendously liberating. I get letters from readers all the time that say, “All I needed to know is that there really isn’t anything wrong with me, and there are other people like me.” And there are people in our society who believe that the introvert is the rare person, kind of sitting down in the basement avoiding people, when in any given room introverts make up about half of the people in that room. So I think that knowing does shift a person’s thinking. They may finally understand, “That’s why I prefer to send an email than speaking my thoughts,” or “That might be why, after a meeting, I really feel like I need a break to think through what happened and write down some notes.” We get so much mirroring of what it means to be an extrovert, but don’t get that much about what it means to be an introvert.
LR: Would you necessarily treat a depressed, anxious or perhaps substance-abusing introvert differently than you would treat a non-introvert with similar symptomatology?
LH: I think a lot of the treatments apply well to both. But I think that for introverts, part of our treatment is to help them align their lives with what gives them joy, even though we need to be very careful about ascribing to them what we think that would be. That would be like the parent saying to the child, “You need to go out more to be with your friends,” when maybe that child simply relishes reading a book and living in this wonderful imaginative space. The parent would end up trying to pull that child out of that comfortable and happy place and telling them what their definition of happiness is. Similarly, we have to be very careful as therapists to not impose what we think the introvert’s happiness should be.
LR: I could see an overzealous introverted therapist trying to impose their expectations or beliefs on a client; sort of introversion-based countertransference?
LH:
introverts tend to be quite versatile because we bend and have to be psychologically bilingual, which is actually a strength
If the therapist had some kind of mission, that could definitely be a trap, because we do know that introverts can gain a good feeling through social engagement. Even acting like an extrovert can give you a lift. I think the difference with introverts is that it can be helpful for them to know about their introversion without feeling like they have to change who they are. Introverts tend to be quite versatile because we bend and have to be psychologically bilingual, which is actually a strength. It’s easier for introverts to act like extroverts in general than it is for extroverts to act like introverts. We saw this with COVID. It was not easy for those extroverts to flex in the introverted direction, while introverts have had to do it all their lives. Through my book and my activism, I have wanted to simply reinforce the idea that introversion is a viable option. That’s not to say that introverts have to be introverted all the time or that they won’t benefit, but the problem is that many haven’t gotten permission to be who they are in the first place. So, if you’re not who you are in the first place, how do you transcend that?
LR: Are there any other challenges or issues that introverts are more likely to bring to therapy?
LH:
maybe we introverts are entitled to a little bit of that juice that the extroverts are drinking
I think introverts, for better and for worse, can be self-scrutinizers. We are reflective. We think about our conversations. We reflect on events. And so, that may give us a more realistic view of things, and it also can induce anxiety and depression. I think this is where mindfulness techniques are so helpful—we can do that reflection without getting so attached to those thoughts and, as a result, can come back to the present. And at times, we can deliberately seek those joyful experiences and do what extroverts do. Maybe we introverts are entitled to a little bit of that juice that the extroverts are drinking.
LR: In addition to mindfulness, are there particular modalities of therapy that introverts might be more drawn to?
LH:
a very extroverted therapist who really wants a back-and-forth kind of dialogue may lose an introverted client
As an introvert myself, I always gravitated toward the psychodynamic psychotherapies in part because they provide so much space for the internal life. As number nine in a family of ten who was constantly overstimulated, I relished the luxury of having a person listen to me in a place where I got to lay back on the couch and just let my mind take up the whole room. In terms of space, that was a wonderful thing.

Not all introverts would necessarily like that. Some introverts do actually appreciate some structure or inquisitiveness from a therapist. I think that a general rule is that when working therapeutically with an introvert, there needs to be a certain level of patience to let the client consult with their inner laboratory and find out what they’re thinking. A very extroverted therapist who really wants a back-and-forth kind of dialogue may lose an introverted client.
LR: What about the opposite situation in which an introverted therapist has a very extroverted, performative, gregarious, energetic, over-stimulating client?
LH: I’ve actually had to contend with that because for me and a lot of introverts, interrupting is taboo. But some extroverts expect to be interrupted. They kind of like just letting go and knowing that you’re going to get your word in whether you want or not. Some extroverts love talking to introverts because the introvert gives the full space. But the introverted therapist may also have to be more active than they prefer with that type of client.
LR: I closed my physical practice a few years ago. It was so highly personalized, and some might argue overstimulating. If you were to be a consultant for designing therapy spaces for introverts, what tips might you offer?
LH: I love that question, because I think it’s a neglected one. One thing is that introverts are already likely coming into your office over-stimulated. If you have bright lights and a lot of clutter in your office, you’re probably not going to have somebody who’s going to be very able to settle into the space. I am very attentive to lighting so have a softly lit space, and because some introverts may not always want to make eye contact because they have to think and because sometimes our eyes will distract them, I do have some things that allow the patient or client to look away from me. They want to be oriented towards you. Introverts tend to be very absorbent of what’s going on around them. And so, they almost need to close themselves off. So, not facing the chair directly at them is helpful—kind of fanning them out so that the client can look off and go inside instead of always looking at you but can also easily enough look over at you. That kind of thing can really make an introvert feel more comfortable and open in this space.
LR: Maybe we can go into the office setup-for-introverts feng shui business.
LH: Love it.

Introverts at Home

LR: Do introverted parents bring unique challenges to therapy?
LH:
parents don’t often give permission and encouragement to help their child develop solitude skills
I do think parents feel a lot of pressure, from the whole playdate revolution, to having the most fun birthday party. I remember, and say this with a little bit of shame, but I was always relieved after Halloween was done because there was this pressure to create the best costume. One thing that I always note is that parents feel such a responsibility to help their child develop social skills, and certainly that is an important coping mechanism. But parents don’t often give permission and encouragement to help their child develop solitude skills. We can’t always entertain them. And if we are, we are developing a child who doesn’t have much resilience, because the reality is, we’re going to be alone for a good part of our lives. So, I think that it is important to help both introverted and extroverted parents foster that quiet space for their child(ren).

I remember the psychotherapy theorist, I think it was Fred Pine, who talked about the importance of quiet pleasures. Winnicott also talked about that. I like the idea that the child and you can be doing parallel things in this quiet space, and that child internalizes the ability to be alone, because they learn that they can be alone together. They learn that there is a sense of somebody who can tolerate their aloneness, which I think is such a beautiful but rare thing in parenting. That we can just do nothing together?

I was just watching the movie Christopher Robin. I love the way that Christopher Robin and Pooh talk about doing nothing because when you do nothing, something happens. I love when somebody asks me what I’m doing, and I say nothing, and then I do it. It is the idea of the generative, the fertile void. The way that boredom is a precursor to creativity. So I always ask, are we allowing kids boredom? If parents took some pressure off themselves to stop entertaining kids, kids might paradoxically end up being more self-entertained.
LR: I just wrote the introduction to a friend’s book on nature-based play therapy, and as we chat, Richard Louv’s work on the importance of nature in child development rings so loudly in my ears. I think kids (and adults) need to be in nature where there is quiet, and there is awe, and there is, like you said, an external space where they can be internal.
LH: Yes. I find for myself that having an evening walk when things are quiet is when I do feel that the laboratory is wide and vast, and I don’t have to tuck it away.
LR: Moving from parenting to relationships, what challenges have you found working with couples who are mismatched temperamentally?
LH:
an introvert/extrovert couple are going to have more conflict if they are going to be close, because they need to negotiate
I think there are a lot of introvert/extrovert couples that do quite well. But knowing from experience, an introvert/extrovert couple are going to have more conflict if they are going to be close, because they need to negotiate. So, if the extrovert wants to go out and be with friends, how often will the introvert be willing to do that? The introvert may indeed want to go to a movie or just have a quiet dinner or just stay at home and read together, which is a legitimate date, in my opinion.

There can be real advantages to that, because we might appreciate at times being pulled out of ourselves. Or pulled in, pulled back from ourselves. And so a couple that represents both those functions can become flexible in that way. What I notice is that there may be more of an ease in introvert/introvert couples. But that may also come with a lesser growth curve. The other thing can happen, though, is like with systems therapy, where one plays more of the function of introvert or extrovert. So, you have all different variations on the theme. But I think that naming this process becomes important in clinical work with couples, especially if their temperaments put them at odds. It took my husband and I twenty-five years and the writing of my book to discover that when I’m quiet, I’m not telling him he needs to explain things more.
LR: Or that you’re not withholding something from him or pushing him away.
LH: Instead, that he has been understood, and that I’m not telling him that I am disengaged. I’m actually thinking about what he says. So now when I’m quiet, he’ll say, “Oh, you’re thinking about it, right?” And I’m like, yes.
LR: So, your book in part was a marriage survival guide for yourself?
LH: Yeah, it’s very interesting to me that after writing the book, I found applications in my own life that I hadn’t yet discovered.
LR: Well, you probably were aware of those, but not consciously because you’re an introvert. They were bubbling up in some beaker deep in the back of your laboratory.
LH: There you go.
LR: As we come to an end, Laurie, what would you leave those clinicians out there who haven’t yet given too much thought to this whole introversion/extroversion area with?
LH: I think that we all benefit from having a richer world. And we have a richer world when we can embrace the internal and the external. I think too often we don’t, and we aren’t curious enough, or wait long enough to find out. I find in teaching interviewing skills to medical students that if they wait just a little bit longer, they’re going to find the story, the punchline, the meaning that, if they had spoken two seconds sooner, would have been missed. So keep in mind that the world is vast and wonderful out there. But it’s also vast and wonderful in there.
LR: If there are any questions that I wasn’t clear on, can I reach out to you after we finish today?
LH: Absolutely, because as an introvert, sometimes things get clearer later on.

Watch this Movie and Call Me in the Morning

I am a self-professed “scripter,” but not in the echolalic sense. I am also quite fond of popular culture, particularly movies, and have written extensively on integrating their fruits into clinical practice, training, and supervision. Put these two peccadillos, passions, or pastimes together, and you have me, or at least part of me: someone who can seamlessly integrate movie lines into conversation. As much sense as doing so has made in my life, I must admit that dropping a line from Rocky, Downton Abbey, or Toy Story into a lecture can leave students dumbfounded, and that asking a client if they have seen so-and-so movie has often been met with a quizzical and apologetic, “Sorry, I haven’t.”

Like what you are reading? For more stimulating stories, thought-provoking articles and new video announcements, sign up for our monthly newsletter.

Nevertheless, I believe in the therapeutic power of cinematherapy (the prescription of movies, or parts thereof) to help clients disentangle inner conflicts and have, at times, when therapeutically appropriate, prescribed the likes of Steel Magnolias or Ordinary People to a client who was wrestling with loss, or assigned Good Will Hunting, The Snake Pit, or One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest to counseling trainees to help them better understand clinical theories and applications. While popular culture, whether art, music, or movies, has often been relegated to the basement of culture studies, I believe that its stories, songs, images, and words are non-gilded reflections of the human experience.

Oh, I forgot, I love golf, and devote a good deal of time to learning it, practicing it, playing at it, and dreaming about it (worrisome by many standards, I know!). And just today, as I was reflecting on the loft angles of the various “wedges” in my bag with my teacher, the image of Nanny McPhee came to mind. What I found interesting was that at the moment I asked her if she had seen the movie, my prescient instructor knew exactly what I meant. That is because the relationship between Emma Thompson, as Nanny McPhee evolves from the outset, when she is not wanted by the children she is hired to care for, to the end, when they cling to her as she prepares to leave them. To paraphrase, she says to them, “When you need me but do not want me, that is when I will be there; but when you want me but no longer need me, then I shall go.”

I guess at that moment I was wondering when the time would come to let go of my teacher, “who has taken me from crayons to perfume” (sorry, couldn’t help it, for all of you “To Sir with Love” fans). I have also reflected on this particular movie line when working with clinical trainees in order to help them understand the vicissitudes of the therapeutic relationship.

Clearly, I could go on and on and on about the multitude of movies that have etched themselves deeply into my neuronal pathways, and how I have used them, their characters, and their “lines” in both the therapy room and classroom, but instead I direct you to a website called Therapy Route, created by South African clinician Enzo Sinisi. There you will find a veritable cornucopia of cinematic gold which you can mine in your own clinical practice and/or clinical training.

There, and in Enzo’s words, you will find “links to pages that contains a list of films that address mental health concerns/issues [and a] brief description and an abridged version of the relevant diagnostic criteria to help the reader get a sense of how these disorders are defined and what their symptoms look like.” Enzo, in the creation of this impressive compendium, will lead you to the doorstep, but the next step will be yours, and how you use this resource in your own work will be up to you.

Don’t forget the popcorn! 

Counseling Gifted Clients: Journeys through the Rainforest Mind

“What do you do with the clients you suspect are super smart?” You know, those who talk fast, think fast, and ask probing questions; those who are so articulate and seemingly high functioning that you can’t understand why they say they are depressed and anxious. How do we begin to understand, let alone help, those clients who are paralyzed by fears of failure and the pressures of their “great potential”; who have exceedingly high standards and expectations for themselves and others? They change jobs frequently, are continually questioning themselves, and express frustration, impatience, and confusion with slower thinking co-workers. How can we walk alongside those clients who feel such deep and unrelenting loneliness, even if they have many friends and are in partnerships, and who were perhaps bullied and bored in schooling situations when they clearly have (or had) an enormous passion for learning? How can we fully and deeply assist those clients who have an unusual number of sensitivities to sounds, textures, visual stimulation, chemicals, and emotions? Or even begin to co-construct a meaningful treatment plan with clients who feel a responsibility for making a difference on the planet, have extraordinary empathy, and feel despair and idealism about the future? And how do we stay intimately attuned with clients who have experienced serious trauma in childhood but appear to be unscathed, those who are so tuned into us in therapy that they can sense when our attention is drifting, are afraid of overwhelming us, and who, in fact, do overwhelm us with their intensity, depth, intuition, and levels of awareness?

These are some of the challenges I experience working with gifted clients. Perhaps you do, too.

What is Giftedness?

Defining giftedness is difficult and controversial. There are many theories and definitions. Concerns over justice and equality can make this discussion tense and uncomfortable. Here is one way to think about it: all humans ought to be valued and appreciated and are worthy of love and respect. All humans differ in their strengths, weaknesses, learning styles, intellectual capacities, sensitivities, preferences, talents, temperaments, experiences, cultural backgrounds, and desires. It can get tricky when we talk about intellectual differences. And yet, intellectual differences exist. Giftedness exists—in all cultures, races, religions, and socio-economic groups.

It can be easier to see giftedness in children because they are often reaching typical childhood milestones earlier. Their precocity can be apparent in their language, curiosity, interests, and questions. They often read before they get to school and have abilities and wisdom beyond their years. I consult with parents of gifted kids. Here are some examples of children I have heard about: the eight-year-old who wants to be Richard Feynman for Halloween. The five-year-old reading The Chronicles of Narnia. The four-year-old who cries when listening to Mozart because the music moves him. The ten-year-old whose favorite pastime is watching BBC documentaries. The six-year-old who refuses to eat meat for ethical reasons. The nine-year-old who rescues the grasshoppers on the playground. The ten-year-old whose poetry breaks your heart. The fourteen-year-old who’d rather read David Foster Wallace than hang out on social media.

Notice I did not describe the child who performs well in school. Gifted children may test well and get high grades, and they may not.
So, defining giftedness is complicated. But we don’t actually need a clear, concise, undisputed definition to serve clients who fall into this category in one way or another. We don’t need to give them a label. We just need to understand what they may be dealing with due to their gifted traits and how to help them.

Traits of the Gifted Client

These are some of the characteristics of gifted clients with whom I’ve worked:

  • Advanced vocabulary, existential questions and concerns from an early age, multiple in-depth interests
  • A range of deeper-than-normal emotions and sensitivities (often underground in men), advanced analytical abilities, need for precision in fields of interest, perfectionism
  • Rapid thinking, talking, and learning
  • Excessive worry, great empathy for all living things, unusual insight into themselves
  • Avid reading, unending curiosity, and passion for learning (not necessarily for schooling)
  • More complex ethical, moral, and justice concerns, insight about things that others don’t notice, tendency to argue for fun or for intellectual stimulation
  • Idealism, wit, imagination, creativity, questioning authority, and needing to understand the meaning of life
  • Loneliness, anxiety (particularly when bored or during extreme bouts of thinking), existential depression, self-doubt even with seeming successes
  • Difficulty finding friends, serious schooling frustrations, uneven development

The Rainforest Mind

I have discovered that one way to manage discomfort with the label and definition of giftedness is to use the metaphor of the “rainforest mind.” I was a teacher of gifted children before becoming a therapist, and many educators were not happy about identifying them as such. I suggested we think of it this way: people are like ecosystems. Some are like meadows, some deserts, some volcanoes, and some rainforests, for example. They are all beautiful and valuable. One is not better than the other. The client with a rainforest mind is the most complex: multilayered, intense, overwhelming, colorful, highly sensitive, full of complicated creativity, and misunderstood. I have many clients who have read my blog/books and come to me saying “I’m not gifted, but I have a rainforest mind.” These clients are often uncomfortable with the label, too, and many deny they are gifted.

You may be using your most tried-and-true therapeutic methods with these clients but feel something is not quite working. You feel you are missing a very important piece of their puzzle but do not know what. Your client says they are struggling, but they seem to be capable, compassionate, and insightful. At times like these, I have found it useful to consider that my client has a rainforest mind.

Giftedness is a phenomenon that has its own set of complications. These clients desperately need us to see all of who they are and all of who they want to be. They need to be able to feel safe to be vulnerable and to trust that you can handle their exuberance, intense emotions, questions, contradictions, complexities, fears, intuitions, sensitivities, and, yes, their brilliance.

Some of the Issues

The gifted clients with whom I’ve worked come to therapy for the same reasons most clients do. They might be dealing with depression, anxiety, PTSD, attachment issues, addictions, or childhood trauma. But there will likely be other issues that will need your attention. The following are some of the concerns I see in my office every day:

  • Unhealthy perfectionism that stems from early intense pressure to achieve. Healthy perfectionism that is often misunderstood and stems from an innate desire for beauty, balance, harmony, justice, and precision.
  • Multipotentiality, which is a desire to pursue many career paths and multiple interests. This is often mistaken for irresponsibility, inability to focus, or even ADHD.
  • Extreme difficulty with decisions due to the ability to see too many options and to worry about the implications of every choice.
  • Existential depression and despair, particularly rooted in an early and ongoing sense of justice and social responsibility.
  • Difficulty finding friends and partners because of differences in intellectual capacity and in emotional depth and sensitivity.
  • A history of bullying in school and boredom over many years in a traditional classroom where they already know the material. Great frustration with coworkers and supervisors who are less competent or less conscientious.
  • Being given too much responsibility for siblings and parents in a dysfunctional family. The tendency to be the counselor for family and friends with no reciprocation. A capacity for resilience when raised with abuse, masking serious self-doubt, self-hatred, depression, and anxiety.

What Can a Therapist Do?

These are some of what I hope will be helpful hints and strategies I have found effective with these clients.

  • Get familiar with the traits that often accompany giftedness. Explain these to your clients. Learn to differentiate the issues that come with giftedness from the effects of growing up in a dysfunctional family. Explain how having a rainforest mind can be challenging. Suggest books, articles, and websites.
  • Look for ways your clients are masking their pain because they are used to practitioners who assume they are just fine and often their friends and family members overly rely on them because they are so capable.
  • Allow them to talk a lot without being linear or chronological; take notes if it helps you keep track. Create a very large container to hold what is likely to be a great deal of intensity. Love their difficult questions, big emotions, deep dives, and quests for justice and a better world.
  • Be authentic and sensitive. Listen deeply. They are often particularly intuitive and will be able to sense when you are irritated, not feeling well, or distracted.
  • Get your own therapy. If you are also gifted, take time to explore the resources for yourself.
  • Be careful that you don’t misdiagnose—giftedness can look like ADHD, ASD, OCD, and even bipolar disorder. (Note: Some clients can be gifted and also have a mental health diagnosis or learning disability, called twice-exceptional or 2e. It will be important for you to know about this as well.)
  • Know your limits and notice if you are intimidated by their intelligence. Refer if you are frequently overwhelmed or uncomfortable.

The Case of Marilyn

For the purposes of this article, this case example will focus mostly on psychoeducation around giftedness rather than the childhood trauma the client experienced. This case description is adapted from my book, Your Rainforest Mind.

Thirty-year-old Marilyn, a graduate student in anthropology and women’s studies came to counseling because, as she said, “I reached the end of my own abilities to fix myself.” Marilyn’s mother had died a year earlier, and her intimate relationship was “faltering.” In describing her goals in counseling, she wrote, “I want to stop carrying the weight of my family’s legacy, to untangle the mess in my head, to be free.” Marilyn had a history of difficult relationships with partners and trouble finding emotionally healthy friends. Like many of my clients, Marilyn did not initially know that she was gifted.

She described a bipolar, physically and sexually abusive mother. Her father was kind and loving to her but didn’t stand up to stop the abuse. According to Marilyn, her parents were “spectacularly unsuccessful in the real world.” And when Marilyn was twenty-two her father died suddenly.

As a child in school, Marilyn was bullied. She was excited about learning, academically ahead of her peers, and a talkative extravert whom teachers dismissed with impatience and children rejected.

As with most of my clients, we worked on two main tracks. Track one was the long road to healing from severe childhood trauma. Convincing Marilyn through lots of counseling processes based in attachment theory and somatic experiencing that the abuse wasn’t her fault, that she was, in fact, worthy of love, was the more complicated task. Over time, Marilyn felt more trust in me and allowed herself to grieve the losses she had experienced for so many years.

Marilyn, like many gifted folks, had shown a powerful resilience. In spite of her rejecting, critical, abusing mother, Marilyn was a kind, loving, competent woman. The damage was evident, though, in her distorted view of herself, her existential depression, somatic symptoms, and her inability to believe she was worthy of love. It took time for her to feel safe enough in therapy to allow herself to grieve and to trust.

Like many gifted clients, Marilyn did much self-examination. She particularly enjoyed art projects and used journaling and other art forms to delve deeper. She was a big reader and was always looking for resources that would expand her knowledge, particularly in the areas of body image and women’s issues.

The second track is simpler but essential. Even though Marilyn had experienced academic success, she did not identify as gifted or understand the traits. She wrote about this: “There were—and still are—so many times in my life I felt an unbridgeable distance between myself and others, like I fundamentally see the world in a different way that I can’t even explain because we don’t speak the same language.” Even though Marilyn found friends, she felt extremely lonely much of the time. She was often the caretaker in the relationship, giving much love and support but not getting much back. She wrote, “I get hungry for people who are socially competent and intellectual and curious about literally everything and creative and broad-minded and motivated by justice…People who care and feel deeply but also think in complex wide-ranging ways.”

Even though she was an optimist, Marilyn felt despair over finding a truly loving and kind, intimate relationship. And with both friends and partners, Marilyn had difficulty setting boundaries and asking for what she needed. Being gifted, this was even more challenging, because it wasn’t easy finding other sensitive, intelligent souls. I referred her to my blog, books, and other articles about giftedness to reinforce that her difficulties with peers and her enthusiasm for learning outside of school were also typical traits of the gifted.

As time passed in our work together, Marilyn graduated with her Master’s degree. Her advisor may have been the first teacher who recognized and appreciated her giftedness, telling her she was the brightest student she had ever worked with. This was an important acknowledgement. Marilyn and I continued therapy as she looked for employment. Fairly quickly she found a job that was not in her field of study but that suited her well.

Marilyn was employed in social services as a case manager and was wildly successful. The combination of her rainforest-minded traits of sensitivity, empathy, energy, attention to detail, and intelligence worked well with the population of families she helped. She often took on extra responsibilities to keep herself busy and mentally stimulated. In meetings, she saw the big picture and solutions long before her colleagues. So she was restless in the job when she had accomplished her goals and was not recognized for her skills. These can be the frustrations of many rainforest minds on the job. It was likely that Marilyn would find more challenging, financially rewarding work as her confidence grew, but this position was satisfying her need to make a difference.

In many of our sessions, as we talked about relationships both personal and professional, I would remind Marilyn that some of her struggles were due to her complex intellect, high level of sensitivity, multiple interests, divergent thinking, very high standards, fast learning abilities, and deep empathy. In other words, her rainforest mind.

Over our years together, Marilyn made enormous progress. She could acknowledge how severe her losses had been and grew more and more self-accepting. Her self-criticism had decreased significantly, and she became able to recognize her many strengths. She began to imagine that she would find deep friendships and a kind loving partner. Eventually, she accepted the idea that she was, indeed, gifted.

Marilyn described her experience this way: “I keep hoping to meet people with whom I can relax and be just me, all of me, unafraid to let them see who I really am, in all my dorky, questing, art loving, social justice-obsessed, bibliophile, rebellious, intersectional feminist, world-changing glory.”

***

Marilyn is but one example of the many fascinating gifted clients with whom I have been privileged to work. If you can identify who among your clients is gifted, has a rainforest mind, and if you can listen to, understand, and explain the particular challenges that these folks often face, it will make a big difference in the effectiveness of their therapy. You will be seeing and knowing them in a way that very few others, if any, have. And that will change everything.

Helpful Resources

Books/Articles
The gifted adult: A revolutionary guide for liberating everyday genius™.
The Social and Emotional Development of Gifted Children: What do we know?
Your Rainforest Mind: A guide to the well-being of gifted adults and youth.
Journey into your Rainforest Mind: A field guide for gifted adults and teens, book lovers, overthinkers, geeks, sensitives, braniacs, intuitives, procrastinators and perfectionists. .
Webb, J. T., & Amend, E. R. (2016). Misdiagnosis and dual diagnoses of gifted children and adults: ADHD, Bipolar, OCD, Aspergers and other disorders. Great Potential Press, Inc.

Websites
Supporting the Emotional Needs of the Gifted (SENG)
Your Rainforest Mind
Gifted Challenges
Puttylike

The Flash Technique: A Useful Tool in Treating Trauma

I first heard of the Flash Technique (FT) in March 2019 when attending Dr. Philip Manfield’s therapy training on Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) in Oakland, California. Unlike EMDR, FT does not require the client to commit to a lengthy process, nor does it require the client to focus on the traumatic memory for an extended period of time. The FT process starts with the client’s identifying a memory or fear and ranking the level of disturbance they are feeling in that moment. The scale, which is known as SUDS (Subjective Units of Distress), ranges from 0-10, with 10 being the most disturbing. Next, I ask the client to think of something positive or exciting that they can talk about for the next 10-15 minutes (i.e., a hobby, a pet, a movie, a trip). This is known as the Positive Engaging Focus (PEF). When FT was first developed, the therapist would say “flash” while the client discussed the PEF and instructed them to briefly think of the target memory. It later became evident that this was not necessary, and now when the therapist says “flash,” the client is instructed to blink instead of flash on the target memory. Once the PEF is identified, I demonstrate for the client how to cross their arms over their chest (a butterfly hug) and tap their arms. They tap while describing the PEF, during which time I periodically ask them to blink several times in rapid succession. After five or so sets of blinks, I ask them to pause and reflect on the target memory/fear. They rank the disturbance and tell me what they notice about the memory. Usually the target is less vivid and harder to pull up. Then we continue with the PEF accompanied by more blinking and tapping, after which we pull up the target again. This process continues until the target is no longer disturbing. FT can be used as a part of EMDR treatment or on its own. I thought FT was an interesting tool and started using it along with the standard EMDR protocol. Sometimes I use FT to lower the intensity of the target, and then process the remainder by using traditional EMDR. My practice has been both online and in person, and I have used FT with both virtual and in-office clients. I have found no major difference between in-person or virtual use of FT. I show the client how to cross their arms and tap the same way virtually as I would do in person. My interest in FT grew over time as I was observing positive results. As of this writing, I have used FT with dozens of clients for two years. I have found it easy to use and very effective when working on a variety of disturbing memories and fears. It usually takes about 15 minutes to implement FT, making it very easy to fit into the standard 50-minute session. In contrast to conventional trauma therapy interventions like EMDR, FT is minimally intrusive, in that it does not require the client to consciously engage with the traumatic memory. The client can therefore process traumatic memories without feeling distress. In the following session, usually a week later, I recheck the target memory or fear to see if there is still any disturbance. Some targets resolve in one session and the results hold over time. Typically, the easiest cases are single-incident traumas—an event that took place at one time and does not have any related memories. For example, someone who was in a car accident once and developed a fear of driving can often process the incident in one session without any need for additional work. In other cases, usually where there are many related memories, it generally requires additional sessions of FT or EMDR to fully resolve them. Multiple incidents can also be processed but may require additional sessions. I should note that FT, like EMDR, does not completely remove all fear. I would not want my clients to put themselves in unsafe situations following FT. Rather, FT and EMDR aim to relieve the extreme disturbance associated with a traumatic event. The client still remembers that the event took place and experiences a normal level of anxiety in appropriate situations. FT does not provide superpowers or magical thinking. It helps remove the irrational fear so that the client can comfortably engage in everyday activities. Below is a case example of my use of FT with a client who had been mugged. Della, a 33-year-old Caucasian female, was mugged seven years ago on the street. Since then, she had been unable to walk alone at night. She always had to have someone walk her places after dark, or she avoided going out altogether. Della lived in a safe suburb and did not have an urgent need to go anywhere at night. She stated, “I want to be able to walk alone at night if I need to.” Recently, Della’s company offered to relocate her to Paris. She was excited about the opportunity but realized that she needed to work on this fear if she was going to move to a big city. We discussed the mugging in more detail. The incident happened when she was in college. She was studying late at the library and drove home to her apartment at around 2 a.m. She had parked her car in a garage a block away from her apartment. As she was walking home, three people came up behind her, kicked her to the ground, grabbed her backpack containing a laptop, and drove away. When asked to rank the disturbance associated with this memory, Della stated it was a 9 on the SUD scale. For FT, we chose Paris as her PEF. “I’m excited to move there,” Della said. After five sets of FT which took about 10 minutes, Della ranked the SUD at 1 before the session ended. Two weeks later, Della reported that she had chosen a safe area in her suburb as a test for an evening walk. She walked alone at around 8 p.m. Della stated, “This is something I haven’t been able to do since the mugging seven years ago.” She said that it felt good to walk around and look at the lights. “This time, I didn’t have any physical symptoms,” said Della. She described that she did feel a little nervous, ranking the SUD at 1-2. However, it felt like a normal amount of anxiety compared to the paralyzing fear she had experienced previously. She felt good about the outcome. “I wanted to be able to walk alone at night if I had to, and now I can do that,” Della remarked.

***

In addition to the previous case, I have successfully used FT with other clients, focusing on a variety of negative memories and fears. Some examples include a parent’s suicide, childhood bullying, extreme fear of bugs, chronic pain with fear of becoming disabled, fear of contracting COVID-19, sexual assault, car accident/fear of driving, and near drowning/fear of swimming. In some cases, the problem resolved after only 15 minutes of FT, with no resurgence. In other cases, FT provided some benefit, but additional EMDR work was required to fully re-process the event and maintain results over time. To date, I haven’t observed any negative experiences with FT. Most clients have found FT to be helpful and enjoyable. I should note that FT, like any therapeutic intervention, may not be effective for every client or situation. Clients should be aware of potential risks and limitations of FT before starting therapeutic treatment. Useful Articles Related to the Flash Technique: EMDR and The Flash Technique: A Match Made in Heaven? Manfield, P., Lovett, J., Engel, L., & Manfield, D. (2017). Use of the flash technique in EMDR therapy: Four case examples. Journal of EMDR Practice and Research, 11(4), 195–205.

Sometimes I Also Feel Lazy: A Clinician Reflects on Self-Disclosure

“Sometimes I also feel lazy,” I calmly mentioned to Chris. I noticed his chest instantly decompress with a sigh, as a slight smile took shape at the corner of his mouth. As a clinician, I make calculated decisions about how and when to disclose to my clients.

Chris is a Black man in his early 20s who struggles with symptoms associated with anxiety and persistent depressive disorder. He is currently living with his parents and saving to purchase a condominium. He works in the highly competitive industry of data analysis and takes an interest in both playing the guitar and learning new languages. However, Chris has ongoing thoughts and concerns associated with where he “should” be in life compared to his peers.

Like what you are reading? For more stimulating stories, thought-provoking articles and new video announcements, sign up for our monthly newsletter.

My self-disclosure came after multiple sessions of hearing Chris berate himself, thinking he is not “doing anything with my life.” According to Chris, he should be earning more money and proactively searching out new places to live. We have all dealt with clients who appear to be doing better than most but seem to treat themselves as if they are the worst.

At the moment and in looking back, I felt conflicted. Should I have revealed how proud I was of him? No, that might be taken as gratuitous praise that he believes I “say to everyone.” Or should I have simply sat back and normalized his thoughts and concerns? Well, I tried that in previous sessions. This time I had a different idea.

I recalled how Chris had seemingly put me on a pedestal in the past. He had sometimes made remarks about how “you own your own business” and had “written books.” Now was a moment that I could come across as more relatable. I have noticed that power differentials present significant challenges when working with male clients.

Chris mentioned feeling “lazy” due to his perceived lack of initiative. I responded briefly with, “Sometimes I also feel lazy.” I aimed to be succinct so that my intervention was not taken as an attempt to monopolize his session.

Self-disclosure is not without controversy. Some colleagues argue that it helps, while others suggest that it may be harmful. With Chris, I wanted to convey that I go through periods of indolence as well. As it turned out, this led to a rich discussion about how routines might work better for him than relying on motivation.

One of my concerns prior to disclosing was my experience that mental health disorders are often associated with stigma, and this may delay clients from entering therapy. Chris could have suggested that it was “easy” for me to say that I go through periods of inactivity, as I don’t struggle with anxiety and depression (though inaccurate, I was not willing to take up his session with my issues).

I have found that self-disclosure —when used appropriately—has been a powerful tool in my practice to reduce some of the stigma associated with mental health issues and their treatment, normalize my client’s experience, offer different ways of thinking and behaving, and deepen the connection between me and them.

Below are some considerations for the appropriate use of self-disclosure that I have found in my clinical work:

Cultural Sensitivity

The use of self-disclosure can be problematic if I make assumptions about my clients based upon a real or perceived similarity with them. Culture goes beyond race and ethnicity. Chris and I are of the same race, but that does not mean we have the same worldview, so I must be careful to disclose only after having a thorough understanding of the cultural factors that impact his worldview.

Authenticity

My clients appreciate me when I am real, which is also when I think I am doing my best work. I fear that my professional licensure and other symbols of my presumptive clinical expertise sometimes create distance as opposed to allowing clients to connect with me. Sharing something about myself—when relevant—can help minimize this barrier. My clients come for the clinical interventions but stay for the relationship.
Client-Focus

My goal is always to help my clients meet their needs, as opposed to having my own needs met. The above-mentioned session could have easily become a discussion about me. However, this is not what Chris was there for.

Brevity

It is their session, not mine. I do not want to elicit a caretaking response from my clients. I have written elsewhere that good therapists are in therapy themselves. Another point is that disclosure should not happen frequently, for the same reason mentioned above.

Eliciting feedback

I have found it to be important to carefully observe my client’s reactions (facial expressions, tone of voice, and body language) in order to obtain a sense of how my self-disclosure affects them. It helps when I ask clients directly how they perceive my disclosure. I was able to pay close attention to Chris’ bodily response and noticed that he found comfort in my disclosure. Further, my observation was validated by asking him what the disclosure was like for him.

Some questions that I have found helpful prior to self-disclosing include:

  • What need is driving me to share this information (is it for me, or is it for the client)?
  • How might this information be helpful?
  • Is this helpful to share now (perhaps the disclosure may be better suited for a later time)?

I have also discovered that my use of self-disclosure has not always been as helpful as I had intended. One example stems from a time when I tried to normalize medication compliance with one of my clients who was diagnosed with schizophrenia. I mentioned the fact that I have asthma and am required to take my inhaler regularly in order to maintain optimal health. The client responded by saying that he would much “prefer asthma over schizophrenia.” I attempted to salvage the moment by admitting that it was not appropriate for me to compare asthma to his lived experience. I also allowed the client to give me feedback on how the disclosure made him feel (I learned that it came across as slightly dismissive). I have found that these lapses in clinical judgment have actually strengthened my alliance with clients when I am willing to admit them. Through self-awareness and honesty, these moments have become opportunities for a deepening in my therapeutic relationships and for my client’s self-awareness and growth.

***

In my clinical experience, carefully planned self-disclosure has been a transformative tool in the relationships with several of my clients. Chris viewed my personal revelation as a breath of fresh air, and it made our work together more effective. He respected and appreciated my authentic humanity—even if it meant I was sometimes lazy.
 

Gratitude to the Anonymous Client: A Poem

I meet you every Thursday evening at 5pm,

sitting in front of my polished laptop screen,

wearing my serious, white shirt on top,

but my purple tartan pajamas underneath.

I am an actor stepping up on a half-stage,

marginally nervous until I cite my first line,

as you ponder along the tightrope of your lifeline.

Like what you are reading? For more stimulating stories, thought-provoking articles and new video announcements, sign up for our monthly newsletter.

Every Thursday at 5pm confirms we are both alive,

As I creep into the delightful maze you take me.

I appreciate you keeping me existentially wake,

as I stretch my soul to keep up with your dreams.

You always bring a full agenda of splendid topics,

and you ferment my words as tender dough,

before you mold them into a delicious cloud,

aromatic but not edible, true yet ineffable.

And thus my evenings unfold in front of my laptop screen,

as I travel into clients’ kitchens, attics, or garages,

as they secretly enter into my own crossroads and daydreams,

keeping me wondering, “will I have an answer this time?”

All my laptop world becomes a stage,

with men and women having their exits and their entrances.

They play their part, give a splendid speech,

and glow as a one-day living whitefly,

before they move gracefully backstage.

They come and go, land and flee away,

and I can never really know,

whether there’s still something alive there,

after my laptop screen shuts down

Could it be that only an empty space,

sprawling as a therapy encounter ends,

can be filled with the presence of “me” and “thou”?