Leave Your Degree at the Door, Dude

The late 1960s and 1970s were exciting times for the fields of psychology and psychotherapy. Much of the enthusiasm was spawned by a body of landmark research. At the time experts postulated that humans had two distinct nervous systems: the voluntary and the involuntary. The voluntary nervous system allows you to brew your morning cup of Joe or take out the trash before you leave for work. The involuntary or autonomic nervous system controls your heart rate, blood pressure and the temperature of your baby toe. According to the existing theory, a human being could not control his or her involuntary or so-called autonomic processes. But all that was about to change.

Enter Neal E. Miller, a prominent psychologist and a past President of the American Psychological Association. By paralyzing animals, and hence knocking out voluntary responses, with curare (often dubbed South American dart poison) Miller demonstrated that involuntary or autonomic/automatic responses could indeed be controlled. And although later research would sometimes fail to replicate Dr. Miller's results, the implications for the human potential movement were staggering. If indeed Miller was correct, humans could do things to control their behavior that were heretofore considered impossible!

During this same era, the Menninger Foundation, a longstanding psychoanalytic foothold, located in Topeka, Kansas was doing some experiments that seemed to back up Miller's assertions. Subjects were asked to hold glass mercury thermometers and told to raise their hand temperatures. Not only did many subjects accomplish this, but as an added benefit, these same individuals often experienced relief from migraine headaches. When Miller was informed of this fact, folklore has it that he smiled and merely quipped: "I believe that in this respect men are as smart as rats."

Slowly but surely, thermometers and the like were replaced with sensitive electronic devices called biofeedback meters that gave subjects and clients the superior feedback necessary to make bodily changes at will.
With Menninger at least partially leading the charge, biofeedback seemed to be the coming thing in our field and I wanted to be on the cutting edge of the breakthrough. Luckily Menninger was offering brief biofeedback training sessions and as a graduate student I immediately applied.

I mean how fun would that be? I would get in my favorite car of all time and drive from St. Louis to Topeka—310 miles—to receive the best training of my life. The make and model of my favorite auto of all time are irrelevant to this discussion . . . okay, okay you twisted my arm . . . it was a 1965 Oldsmobile 442 and yes it was fast enough to get even the most conservative driver in a heap of trouble.
But as John Lennon once quipped, life is what happens when you are making other plans. Certainly, it proved true in my situation. I blew the clutch out on my 442 dream machine and thus an intercity bus transported me to the Mecca of biofeedback training.

The training was blow-away awesome and reached a zenith when at the end of the day's workshop we were given the exact temperature feedback monitor units Menninger was using to train clients to take home and experiment with. These biofeedback devices were manufactured in Lawrence, Kansas. Yes indeed, these gems were made in America and resembled a lunch box Larry Mondelo might have been toting in a classic Leave it to Beaver episode. In reality, the unit was a ultra sophisticated thermometer with 3 3/4 inch meter on the front. It would take a baseline, track the client's progress (or lack of it), and even had onboard calibration capabilities. We had the option of purchasing the units if we liked them and I did just that.

As for me, you won't find mine for sale on Ebay. After my brief training at Menninger I used this little gem to help hundreds and hundreds of clients with anxiety, habit control issues, and migraine headaches. It also came in handy for performing hypnosis and systematic desensitization; but that's a tale for another blog.

But here's where the story gets very interesting. On the night I took my unit home I had fairly good success raising the temperature of my hand. This practice was theoretically helpful in combating anxiety and once again helping those with migraine headaches.

As I was walking from my hotel to Menninger the next morning I spied a psychiatrist who was in my training class.

"Hey how's it going?" I asked.

"Not well. This biofeedback stuff is junk," he told me.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," the psychiatrist asked," were you able to make the temperature on your meter go up."

"I was," I proudly announced, "but I take it you could not."

"Right. My meter did nothing," lamented the psychiatrist.

"Look," I said trying to be nice. "It could be the biofeedback meter they gave you is defective."

"Ha. I don't think so," he responded. "I let my five year old son play with it and he was pegging the meter on super hot so easily I had to reset it several times for a higher temperature."

"Okay," I calmly responded. "I think I have an answer for you. You know too much. I mean look. Your five year old doesn't know squat about the nervous system. You tell your five year old that his hand is getting hot or to imagine that he is outside on a warm sunny day and presto . . . his hand temperature genuinely goes up. You, on the other hand are a medical doctor. Therefore, you know all these facts about the central nervous system versus the autonomic nervous system. You know the traditional theory forward and backward. You can tell me with great detail why a person should not be capable of raising his or her hand temperature. Too much traditional knowledge can be a dangerous thing."

"Al-right Rosenthal, maybe, just maybe, you are correct. So what in the heck should I do about it?"
"That's easy," I replied, "Just leave your degree at the door dude!"

"Hmm. Well what about you Rosenthal. Are you going to leave your degree at the door?"

"Not me." I said. My degrees are nonmedical and not focused on physiology. I might just know less about the nervous system than your five-year-old son. So, to put it bluntly, I'm good to go."

Just Peachy

It's getting colder in the Northeast. I love it—mostly I do—except that I am colder than cold, colder than most folks. I feel it in my bones. My husband and I are Florida bound for vacation soon, and then, we think, to live. Not just yet. The kids need a bit more raising first.

So with the cold coming and the time being ripe, we take the kids (the same ones who still need a bit more raising, and two that are raised mostly) and we head to a peach tree orchard.
If you've never been, I cannot recommend it highly enough.

First, there was the utter joy of traipsing along a raggedy dirt road with nothing but corn fields and blue sky for the eyes to bump into. And the dragging—schlepping—our big container boxes at our sides, thumping and banging our thighs as we make our way to the orchard’s entrance.

And then, and I'm telling you—maybe it’s because I sit in my office for hour upon hour using all my ears (at least three, right?) to understand all the sorrows and stories, the doubts and the dreams, the longings and the fury and the unwillingness to be willing to be willing, and listening for all those “pesky little problems that lurk in the unconscious” (thank you Hedda Bolgar, may she rest in peace)—that upon entering that peach tree orchard, I felt like I had walked into paradise.

All of a sudden all my angst about drives and character and the complicated puzzle of the human heart and psyche dissolved under the shelter of hundreds of bumpy old peach trees.

Row upon row of overgrown knotty trunks with row upon row of green-turning-yellow leaves. No more sky, well, some peaking though here and there, and a hushed world of absolute peace. We stumbled endlessly under a canopy of fat fruit, inhaling some intoxicating mixture of smushed peaches underfoot and clear fresh farm air.

I was absolutely high from it.

And from the breather. From being reminded that there is a world outside, and a world inside that is not fraught with emotional suffering, warring spouses, mind bending grief, anger, abuse, rebellion, confusion. A world where all the simplicity has not been squeezed dry. A place where the only social media was the whispering of the trees and the glee of pulling fruit, each one prettier than the next. Even the bruised and battered ones were holding their own, smiling to me, it seemed, and saying, “Hey, we’re okay up here, even though we’re a bit dented and mushy, we’re holding our own.” This too gave me joy.

It reminded me that sometimes I get so immersed in the work of hearing and healing and sorting through the pain and the issues and the obstacles, that it’s just not as urgent as it sometimes feels. That sometimes it just is what it is. And it’s okay. It’s okay just to be there. We can’t—we don’t always have to—figure it all out.

And when it was time to walk out of the orchard with our full baskets we were full of something else that none of us could quite put into words.

Perhaps this:

That even though we can’t live in the orchard, the orchard can live in us, and that when we take the time to take time out, and go back to basics, there really is place where everything really is just peachy.

Dial-Up Connection

Thirty-five years ago I got my first paid therapist job as a second-string telephone counselor for an enlightened radio station in Sydney, Australia. The radio station ran a daily one-hour program called “Kid’s Careline,” and my boss was the first string counselor who fielded on air calls from the radio audience. She was so brilliant at it that she kept three of us second stringers busy 9 to 5 fielding the calls that did not make it onto the air.

It was in this job that I began to learn about the unique power of telephone counseling. Stints of supervising and fielding crisis phone calls at Suicide Prevention and Parental Stress Services in Oakland enriched my learning. These experiences eventually culminated with me adding telephone counseling to my private practice, which I have done for the last 20 years.

I have an Intersubjective/Relational approach and specialize in working with individuals whose traumatic childhoods have burdened them with Complex PTSD. I am excited by my accumulating anecdotal evidence that significant attachment repair work can be done over the telephone. I have especially noticed this with clients whose trauma is so extensive that they are incapable of handling the anxiety of face-to-face work. Some of my clients have lived reclusive lives but sought me out because my website articles explain how their childhood traumas created their attachment disorders.

Complex PTSD survivors typically operate from a deep belief that “people are dangerous,” and feel less endangered on the phone because they know that they can escape in a second if necessary. Moreover, the phone seems to offer them enough protection, that they are able to drop into authentic and vulnerable relating quite quickly with me—often more quickly than new clients in face-to-face sessions. Once again, I believe this is because phone work offers them a greater sense of safety.

Telephone therapy can foster a uniquely rapid building of trust. In best case scenarios, as with in-person work, this eventually encourages some clients to look elsewhere for similarly trustworthy relationships. More than a few of my telephone clients have experienced enough relational repair within two years of weekly sessions to venture out successfully into the world of real live relating. Often this starts with participating in online support groups, and then expands into joining in-person groups.

I believe that part of the healing dynamic in phone work is that voice contact can be as soothing and brain-changing as the eye contact that seems so fundamental to forming attachments. I wonder, in fact, if voice contact is even more fundamental than eye contact, as the soothing sound of a mother’s voice may be laying down the framework for bonding long before the baby is born. Moreover, as most seasoned therapists know, voice tone, timbre and pitch carry a great deal of emotional communication. The client’s voice can tell us a great deal about her unexpressed distress. And our voice can carry our good will, compassion and, dare I say it, love to the client.

As I write this I flash back guiltily to my adolescence and my dog, Ginger. I once unconsciously experimented with teasing her with the tone of my voice. I soothingly and sweetly told her “You are a very, very bad dog Ginger!” and her dog smile lit up her face as her wagging tale oscillated furiously. Then I switched to an angry tone: “Good dog, Ginger, Good dog!” As I vituperated she fawned nervously and her tail disappeared between her legs. Now I flash on my mother lambasting me throughout my childhood: “Of course I love you!” and 60 years later, I feel my whole body contract and imagine my ears lowering like Ginger’s.

And now let me free associate further. I think of three different friends whose parents read to them as kids, and who still love to be read to. My parents, on the other hand, frequently spoke in tones of anger and disgust, and despite a great deal of attachment recovery, I still find little pleasure in being read to. My nine-year-old son, however, drinks it up like soda. When I come home and sit on the couch he often leans into me and croons: “Read to me, Daddy!,” and lucky man that I am, I still get to read to him for hours every week. We’re on our ninth Gordon Korman book this year. (Gordon Korman is a brilliant children’s author whose books are wise, funny and replete with emotional and relational intelligence.)

Coming back to the issue of therapy, I feel I now understand why traditional psychoanalysis works so well for some clients, despite the analyst sitting out of view behind the couch, and despite the criticism some attachment therapists express about it lacking the intimacy of eye contact.

Jean McLendon on the Legacy of Virginia Satir

Clock Watchers

Jay Lappin: So, Jean, the first thing I want to ask you is, what can Virginia Satir’s family therapy offer to new therapists? What could young therapists entering the field learn from the model?
Jean McLendon: Well, I find myself wondering, what can the more experienced therapists learn from the model? New therapists who have not been in the room with a client or a patient, or have done very little work, don’t have much of a context or framework for how to even be in the therapeutic interaction.

Just recently I heard that a young therapist asked if it was okay to have a clock in her room, and if so, should the clock be visible just to her or to her and the client? I was floored that someone who was finishing their graduate degree was concerned at all about that. I responded in a way that I didn’t particularly like because I was so astounded by the question. Theoretically I believe that all questions are good questions, but this one led me to think, what is this person learning about the importance of authenticity, of connection, of working with the client, not on or for the client.

I think the worry behind that question is, “I don’t want my client to think that I’m only watching the clock and that I’m not interested in what they have to say,” or something like that. But the clock is not going to give people a message one way or the other, or if they make a meaning of it you have no control over that. My sessions are 45, 50 minutes and I definitely want my clients to have access to the same clock I’m using. Why would I not? So being able to say, “Since we only have 45 minutes, I’ve got a clock here. We can both keep our eyes on it,” or, “I have a clock. I’ll let you know before the 45 minutes is up,” is thoughtful, it's considerate, it is sharing useful information.

Virginia was very astute about engaging clients in the here-and-now, in the room, sharing her thoughts and participating with them.
Virginia was very astute about engaging clients in the here-and-now, in the room, sharing her thoughts and participating with them. So she might say, “I don't want the clock to bother you. We can turn it towards me.” Or, “Would you like to have the clock so that you can see it too?” But to ask the question, “is it okay to have a clock in the office, is it okay if the client knows you have a clock?” I fear there's a whole basis of skill and belief about humans and communication that just isn’t reaching these students.
JL: For many of the young people that I supervise, it's very much a business model for them, and with the advent of evidence-based therapies, people are leaning more in that direction. So some of those human elements that Virginia brought to the field are now right alongside “beat the clock” and cramming as many people in as possible in a day, and really more of a manualized approach. And if you want to secure funding for research, you pretty much have to promise something “evidence-based.”

But one of the things I know from reading Virginia’s work and watching her work over the years is that she just has this way of connecting with people that seems entirely un-manualized. So human and so connected. How do you teach that in today’s context of evidence-based therapies?
JM: I would love for you to ask me in about four or five years, because right now I don't know how to integrate the two. I am teaching Satir family therapy with the University of North Carolina substance abuse and addictions outpatient program and they are finding it marvelously effective and have been able to secure funding for me to continue teaching because the results are so positive. But we’re not doing research on it yet.

I had a supervision group years ago, and I was doing family mapping, which for me is basic to Satir work. Because the family of origin experience is, as I like to think of it, the first PhD we get in life.
The family of origin experience is, as I like to think of it, the first PhD we get in life.
My family maps don’t look particularly like genograms, or at least not traditional ones—they are colorful, a little too messy, more pictorial. It’s a visual aid for the client and for me to appreciate the real narrative of where they have come from and what they are hoping for, and what they are dealing with in their life now.

I don’t have them color-coded, but I might have very strong red zigzag lines between people to show conflict, or very distanced dots to show a weak relationship, or lines that show cutoffs. If it’s a couple, I’ll have her comments in one color and her partner’s in another color. It’s just very colorful.

So I do the family maps as part of supervision because I also believe the places we tend to hit a wall as therapists also have their roots in our family-of-origin experience. You know, what are the basic defensive structures and ways we have of protecting ourselves? We keep those for life and even though we can work on them, it's like gravity—they are kind of always there. They are insidious, unless we are aware of them.

Anyway, this PhD clinical psychologist comes back two weeks later, and I’m hoping that they've all done a family map with a client, and she says, “I did one but I couldn’t remember which color you used for what.” I thought, "Well, this is reflective on you, Jean. You are not a very good teacher."

Wet Cocker Spaniel Therapy

JL: It reminds me of that old Frank Pittman article called “Wet Cocker Spaniel Therapy.” He wrote it when he was doing the Denver research about home-based services for emergencies, for families to keep the patient out of the hospital. The story is very much like what you said. This woman is having problems. They go to her house and she’s lying on the floor, refusing to get up. She won’t talk, and they are trying to think of all these clever strategic moves to get her up and moving, and keep her out of the hospital.

The family dog is outside and it’s raining, so the husband lets the dog in. The dog is soaked. It comes in and just kind of shakes himself, so all this water and mud and stuff goes flying and gets on the woman. And she sits up and says, “Oh, the heck with it, fine, I won’t go to the hospital. I’ll talk to you.” Frank’s point was, does that mean that we need to have wet cocker spaniels for all of our work, to keep people out of the hospital?
JM: I think that's the challenge. People watch those of us who are experienced—and particularly in the Satir model, where we work fast in the here-and-now, whether it’s through sculpting or finding ways to externalize an internal challenge in ways that are helpful for particular clients. How we do these things looks like the methodology, but it's really just executing and implementing something out of a very potent belief system about people.
JL: What do you think Virginia would say to today’s therapists about how to use oneself in therapy? Because really what you're talking about is the use of self and that kind of inner knowledge of one’s defense mechanisms that might get in the way of helping other people connect with their family members in more vital ways.
JM: I think she would be conveying her belief in the power of positive connections and promoting a kind of synergy that enhances a creative resourcefulness between and among people. She models and guides that kind of interaction in the office that helps set it in motion and helps people first experience it and then begin to learn the skills of doing it.

One of the addiction therapists I worked with asked, “How do you know in Satir work when the work is done and you can terminate?” I hate that word, but I said, “Well, there's nothing wrong, if you can afford it, with doing Satir work for the rest of your life, because it's all about growth and healing.” It’s rather luxurious, and most of us are not going to choose to use our resources in that way, but I believe there's always room for more growth.

Becoming More Fully Human

JL: What are some of the other nuts and bolts of the model?
JM: In a sense it's a kind of psychosocial educational model that aims to help people create the kinds of relationships that support them in terms of emotional, physical, psychic, and spiritual health. It’s also about helping people take ownership for themselves and take responsibility for the choices they make.
It's a kind of psychosocial educational model that aims to help people create the kinds of relationships that support them in terms of emotional, physical, psychic, and spiritual health.


I see it played out so often in my couples work, where she thinks that “If only he would do X, then I could do Y.“ Getting people to release their spouses, their parents, from being responsible for what they feel and for choices they make is so critical to helping people figure out what changes they need to make. So I put an increase in self-esteem, congruence, responsibility, and ownership for self up there at the top. All of that helps people, as Virginia said, become more fully human.
JL: One of the things that I remember her saying was, ”The family is a microcosm of the world.” That if you know how to heal the family, you know how to heal the world. And Sal Minuchin, back in the early days of family therapy, said that we could change the world one family at a time.

But he recently told me, “We were wrong.” And what he meant was that you really need to think in terms of larger systems as well, as that is a huge context, particularly when from a structural perspective we work with a lot of families that are poor. The context that they live in, and how agencies work with them, has a huge impact on the structure of the family and how all of these goals are realized.

Could you say a little bit more about taking Virginia’s work into a larger context? I know that you’ve been very involved in helping larger systems adopt some of these principles.
JM: It’s one of the reasons I was so initially attracted to the Satir model. There are two reasons, actually. One is that Virginia was talking about being and what it meant to be human in ways that made absolutely perfect sense to me in terms of my own internal experience, but I never heard anybody talking about it.

And secondly, it seemed obvious to me that she was talking about humans in contact with other humans, but she didn’t differentiate between the family therapy session or the boardroom, the church or Congress, because she basically split the universe into three pieces—she could take things that were very complicated and make them very simple. She said this is what you have to deal with: Yourself at a given moment in time, the “other," whoever that might be, and the context in which the relationship resides.
She didn’t differentiate between the family therapy session or the boardroom, the church or Congress.


So how do we create the most supportive context for the self and the other? Well, ask anybody, any group on the planet, “What kind of behaviors make it easier for you to learn, and to enjoy, and to feel that you can be productive and can contribute? What kinds of behaviors interfere with that?” And you'll find out, of course, that people don’t like to be put down. People don’t like to be interrupted. People like to have their opinions valued, even if not agreed with. It’s very basic. And yet, go into any of these contexts and you’ll see people being put down, ignored, excluded, humiliated, shamed, embarrassed. Not being welcomed.

About the third week into my first month-long with Virginia, I came in early one morning before breakfast and I knocked on the door. I was so excited. And I said, “Virginia, I’ve got it. I think I’ve figured it out.” And she said, “What do you mean?” And I said, “Well, what you were talking about, it's all about the universality of emotionality.” And she said, “Yes,” and went on brushing her hair or something. But it felt so big to me, because everything made sense within that context of being fully human. What our basic needs are at a moment in time, in order for us to feel in contact with our real value, our uniqueness, and the resources that we have inside of us to bring into expression with another person.

It’s not enough for me to know that I’m a valuable human being. At some level, I have to give expression to that. I have to share myself in the world and I do that by way of my relationships. So, how we share that in various contexts across cultures is so important. Virginia talked about the importance of peace within and then peace between people, and then peace among. Moving out into the world and doing the work in a larger context across cultures is peace among.

I worked with a man who has done a tremendous amount of work, including Virginia’s work, with people in the IT world. He and I did 7-day leadership workshops for a number of years, and 95% of the people were IT people.

Satir for Techies

JL: Were 95% also men?
JM: Well, I’d say 85% at least. Which was very different for me, because most of my teaching was with therapists and human service folks, who are 85% to 90% women.
JL: That must have been something, to have that change in gender context.
JM: It was fabulous. They have different learning styles. About 5 years into that, I began bringing them into a year-long performance development program that was Satir-based.
Human is human. We might use different words, we might dress differently, we might be a different color, but our basic innards are the same.
A therapist from Florida came in and she stood up and kind of stammered shyly that if she had known that she was going to be doing this training with non-therapists, IT people, she would not have signed up.

And I thought, “Jean, you were pretty naive.” But she signed up to do it the next year because it was so enriching, and that validated for me that people can be so very different, but ultimately we’re so alike. Human is human. We might use different words, we might dress differently, we might be a different color, but our basic innards are the same.

Positrons and Negatrons

JL: And now she can probably reboot her iPhone.
JM: No doubt, yes. It was helpful on many levels.

Satir, like me, felt that you could change the world one family at a time, but what Jerry Weinberg, the computer scientist who writes and teaches about the psychology of computer programming, said to me in relation to changing organizations, is that it's one individual at a time.

And I think that is also true. There are things that can be done formally at policy levels and through interventions from leaders to change context and to make them more human, but it really is true that in a sense, it's one individual at a time. In a family, it's one individual at a time. And I can only communicate and be in contact with one person at a time. My eyes go to your eyes and if there were others in the room my eyes could only meet them one at a time. Virginia did that beautifully.

Pure contact for humans is at a moment in time, with one other person. And it is the energy that comes out of the congruence between two people that helps people shift and change context. Congruence puts what I call “positrons” into the environment; incongruence puts “negatrons” into it.
JL: Can you say more about that?
JM: Well, I made those words up, but everybody knows what they mean. Positrons are connected to what I think of as the positive family-of-origin trance state, and that's a state of being where I belong, I feel secure, I feel valued.
In the negative family-of-origin trance state I don’t feel valued, I don’t feel seen, heard, known or understood and I emit negatrons, defensive incongruence.
In the negative family-of-origin trance state I don’t feel valued, I don’t feel seen, heard, known or understood and I emit negatrons, defensive incongruence.

When we are in the positive trance state, we feel energetically different. When I say to an audience, “What I’d like for you to do is just for a moment, close your eyes and position yourself in a way that would reflect to the outside world what it's like for you when you feel less than, or when you feel unseen or unappreciated,” their bodies get very contorted. Heads are down. Shoulders are sloped. Sometimes people ball up their fists. The body responds. That's why I think of it as a trance state. It’s not only about the kinds of thoughts you have or the feelings you have, but what's going on in your body, too.
JL: When people come out of that powerful body experience, what do they usually say?
JM: Well, it's very familiar to them. It’s not strange. In a sense, it's just kind of second nature. I give them permission to exaggerate it just so that they can bring it into their awareness. But if you can stay tuned to your body, your body can also tell you, “I’m not feeling very valued right now. What do I need to do, in the relationship with myself or with others, to bring myself into a kind of attunement?”
JL: As you're saying this, I think about how Virginia was very much ahead of her time with what are now called mindfulness practices. Back in the day it was considered kind of a tree-huggy, mossy non-scientific encounter, but these days it’s everywhere and there are scientific studies coming out all the time about its effectiveness. Can you say a little bit about the ways in which Virginia’s approach was similar or different to what we now know as mindfulness practices?
JM: Well, we knew back then it was not about fluff. Those of us who were getting trained as therapists back in the ‘60s, ‘70s, and ‘80s were learning experientially, so we knew what worked and what didn’t. We knew that experiential work and right-brain symbolic work could take us to places that we couldn’t get to in linear, didactic learning methods. It was also about therapists learning to use themselves. How do I put myself in a space where I am open, I am fully present, I am fully attentive, and available to the family or the client that I’m sitting with?

So we knew its value, and when we used it with our clients, they knew it its value. Maybe the scientific world or the academicians who weren’t using experiential models didn’t know it, but thankfully it has been affirmed and validated by research. Today’s mindfulness work is nothing new, but I think mindfulness training is an excellent way for therapists to be able to move themselves into an open, centered, and at-peace place inside of themselves in preparation to meet someone who’s going to come into their office who is not in a state of peace, but in a state of agitation and possibly feeling threatened. I remember
Virginia said that to feel that you need help, and to ask for it, and to seek it, may be one of the highest forms of congruence.
Virginia said that to feel that you need help, and to ask for it, and to seek it, may be one of the highest forms of congruence.

So people are coming in with that. They may not be able to say, “It really scares me to come in and talk with you. I don't know you. I’m accustomed to doing things on my own,” but I just know that they're likely coming in a state of some level of agitation and that I don't want to add more agitation to that. I don't want to add my anxiety to theirs. I don't want theirs to become mine. So, getting into a positive and solid relationship with myself and staying there is going to make me a much more empowered resource for my clients.

Mission Impossible

JL: Along those lines, could you say a bit more about self-care as a therapist? Because we know that there is a real thing called vicarious traumatization. Sitting with people in that spot with that kind of energy has its own drain on the therapist. What are some ways that people using the Satir model renew and reenergize themselves and continue to be helpful to their clients?
JM: I think the most important thing within this model is for me to believe that everyone who comes into my office has the internal resources to catalyze and to move towards growth and humanity. That takes me off the hook. I don't have to give it to them. I don’t have to give them courage. I don't have to give them a sense of curiosity. I don't have to give them a sense of, or an ability to care deeply about themselves or someone else.

I find new therapists wanting to give these resources to the client, as though the client doesn’t have them.
If I don't believe that my client is fully resourced, I have to take on a huge level of responsibility and burden, and that is mission impossible.
If I don't believe that my client is fully resourced, I have to take on a huge level of responsibility and burden, and that is mission impossible. I think it wears young therapists out. People who don’t learn how to deal with this don’t stay in the profession long. They go into policy or administration or whatever.

Interestingly, some people—I don't know whether they are born this way or how it happens, I’d love to—just have more resilience in their boundary systems. But again, my belief is that to the extent that you see, and know, and believe in the resources of your clients, it makes a huge difference in the burden and the drain that can come from being a therapist over time.

In terms of the vicarious nature of dealing with trauma, other people’s trauma, all day, I think supervision is a tremendous resource for therapists to get support. And of course therapists have their own traumas, so they have to be careful that they are not being triggered and ignoring that in their own process.

Another key is having a life outside of yourself as therapist. I think it's easy as therapists to be flattered or seduced by the way in which some clients express their gratitude for the help you give them, so it's really important that we are in the world relating to people who are not therapists and who are not our clients. It keeps us grounded and fresh.

The other thing I would say is, I think it's really important that therapists be involved in some kind of regular physical exercise, because I think the body needs to discharge those energies also. You sit all day and listen, and you need at some point during the day to exercise that body vigorously, to sweat.
JL: So, things like a good brisk walk on the beach, chasing down your dog?

JM: Absolutely. I can recommend also putting a dog in your office.
JL: As a co-therapist!
JM: Absolutely. He’s only growled at three people.
JL: Today?
JM: To date, he’s only growled at three. And thankfully, he makes up very quickly.

I’ve been working as a therapist for over 45 years, and people say, “Aren’t you ready to get out of it? Aren’t you tired of it?” And I can tell you, because of the model that I work from, I do not feel innervated. I do not feel drained. I do not feel burned out. The problem for me is that I continue to find people very interesting. And though I like being on the beach and I like gardening,
I am content to do this work for as long as it makes sense. I feel it is a privilege. I feel it is interesting work. I’m paid plenty well enough. And it's just a joy.
I am content to do this work for as long as it makes sense. I feel it is a privilege. I feel it is interesting work. I’m paid plenty well enough. And it's just a joy.

And I absolutely believe that it is not because of who I am, but rather the belief system and the model that taps in and activates my humanness in a very positive kind of way. So that, as I put myself in a position to enter somebody else’s world, and they join me and I join them on this journey, we are both enriched. I just don’t think that there's anything any better.
JL: I agree. We’re lucky to be in the profession we are. And I think you should continue to do what you're doing, because just listening to you today is energizing and hopeful, and gives me the sense that we can figure this stuff out if we all work together. Thank you so much, Jean, for your time. It’s been great.
JM: You're welcome, Jay.

Paradise Lost: When Clients Commit Suicide

Becky

“May I speak to Becky, please?” I asked the female voice that had answered the phone.

“Who’s calling?”

“Dr. Joyce,” I replied.

“Her therapist?” she asked. I knew I had to protect my client’s confidentiality, so I couldn’t answer that question. I began to feel uneasy.

“I’m sorry," she said softly. "Becky killed herself last night.”

I felt as though underwater, my voice garbled, when I finally managed to say, “Okay, thanks for telling me.”

Becky’s gone? My patient committed suicide? I wandered into my living room, dazed. I stared out the picture window into the courtyard where the heavenly bamboo were growing. I hadn’t noticed how they had reddened, with berries forming, signaling the start of winter. The liquid amber tree was bare, dried leaves cluttering the bed. I need to clean up those dead leaves, I thought.

I looked at the clock. It was 9:45 and I was to meet my husband at our new house at 11:00. On my way over, I began to reflect on my last therapy session with Becky, a mere six days earlier. She had been struggling with depression, but she did not seem more deeply depressed than before, nor did she mention suicide. The only clue I had was a casual comment made towards the end of the session.

“I really don’t know what I’m going to do now. I thought about the Peace Corps,” Becky said. “But I need to be close to a therapist and psychiatrist.”

“Yes. And I wonder if being far away from Matt would also be hard,” I said. Becky was having difficulty recovering from a breakup with Matt.

“Well, that too,” she said. Then she changed the subject.

“I like having more time now that school is over,” she said. “I’ve been reading The Inferno.” I didn’t follow up on her comment and she moved on to a new topic.

At the end of the session, I escorted her to the door and, for some reason, I felt compelled to do “doorknob therapy,” unusual for me. As I opened the door, I said, “Maybe you might try reading something less…less intense than the Inferno?“

“And that is when she beamed that smile, forever imprinted on my psyche, as last looks must always be.”

“Less intense? You mean, like, Paradise Lost?” A wide, brilliant smile. Then she exited down the hallway.

As I later found out, four days later she walked in on Matt with another woman and then drove herself to the emergency room because she was feeling suicidal. Six hours later, she was discharged and ten hours later she was dead. I’ll bet she flashed that same smile to the hospital staff before they let her go.

My husband, Joe, was already at the 1911 arts and crafts house that we had bought three weeks earlier. We were full of optimism and hope for rescuing this gem from neglect, but we hadn’t yet moved in.

“Marian, where do you want to put the bathroom sink? If we put it here,” Joe said, pointing to the back, “there’ll be more room for the closet. Glynn needs to know.” Glynn was our contractor.

I found myself pondering the ideal location of the sink. I imagined all the alternatives and finally settled on placing the sink towards the back.

Then Joe and Glynn were at it again, arguing about where to put the dishwasher. I tuned them out as I thought about the subtext of Becky’s Inferno/Paradise Lost comments. Had she tried to tell me: “I am bad, a sinner. I want to die and I will probably burn in hell”? How had I missed that reference?

Some people think that being a therapist is easy. “All you do is just sit there and listen,” they often say. But sometimes the client’s thoughts swim deep underwater, like fish that surface only briefly. Blink and you will have missed the sighting. Fortunately, clients will find creative ways to draw my attention to what they want me to hear until I finally “get it.” But I wouldn’t have that opportunity with Becky. I was left with so many unanswered questions: Should I have detected something that last session? Was there something I could have done? Why did she do it?

The 1:00 Spot

The next day I opened my planner and saw Becky’s name in the 1:00 spot. I stared at it for a moment. When I wrote that in, Becky was sitting in the room with me. And now she is gone. What was I supposed to do with her name? Crossing it off seemed disrespectful. I decided to leave it alone.

My 10:00 appointment was Sherry, a woman who had been going through a particularly rough patch lately. At 10:10 when she still hadn’t arrived, I began to panic. Where is she? I could feel my heart pounding. I frantically flipped through my planner to find her phone number.

“Hello,” she said. I sighed with relief.

“Hi, Sherry. It’s Dr. Joyce,” I tried to sound calm. “I had you down for a 10:00. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m on my way. My mother called just as I was leaving and I couldn’t get her off the phone. I’ll be right there.”

After our session, I hurried out of the office to make my appointment with a seasoned psychologist I had sought out to help me with my cases before Becky’s suicide.

“Well, a lot has happened since I made the appointment,” I said.

“Oh really?” she replied. Then she got out of her chair and stood up. “You don’t mind if I stand while we talk, do you? I have a bad back.”

I didn’t know whether to stand up with her, which felt awkward, or remain seated, which made me feel like I was a child. I chose the latter, and proceeded to look up at her intense gaze and recount the story of my patient’s suicide. “I felt shame as I described Becky’s case, her depression, my treatment plan, her ultimate giving up. I waited for her to offer some words of concern or encouragement.”

“Well, why don’t we go over your case session by session so we can find out what went wrong?” she said instead.

All I heard was “wrong.” Did she mean to say that if I had done things differently, Becky would still be alive? The thought of putting the entire year and a half that I treated Becky under the microscope terrified me.

“We could do that,” I said, but I knew I would never perform that “psychological autopsy” with her.

A few weeks later, some colleagues and I went out for a drink at a rooftop terrace overlooking San Diego bay. I began to relax for the first time in weeks as I watched the planes float by at practically eye level. This respite was suddenly interrupted by an emergency call from a client. I found a private corner and spent a few minutes calming her down.

“Sorry, client in crisis,” I said, returning to the table. “Seems like I’ve had a tough caseload lately.”

“You know, Marian,” Gita said, “that’s why we screen our clients and choose them carefully.” Gita knew about my client’s recent suicide.

“I guess I’m not very good at predicting that stuff,” I finally said.

Afterwards, I stopped by one of my colleague’s offices to get a book she was lending me. I found myself studying an abstract painting on her wall that I had never really looked at before.

“That looks like a nasty dragon,” I said. “I never noticed that before.”

She gave me a very concerned look and said, ““Marian, I think this suicide has traumatized you. You are seeing dragons and danger everywhere.”” At first I sighed—she is a classical psychoanalyst and injects meaning into everything—but I could see her point.

“It’s just that I keep blaming myself and I can’t stop visualizing my client’s last moments. I can’t let it go.”

“This is not your fault. You couldn’t have known she was going to do that. We can’t stop someone from killing themselves if they really want to,“ she said.

But I had a hard time believing this. Can’t we stop them? Shouldn’t we know how to do this? Isn’t that just an excuse therapists use to get themselves off the hook?

I was very careful about revealing Becky’s suicide to others. Thinking back on the entire experience, that isolation was the most pernicious aspect of the ordeal. I now realize that most people could not fathom how wounding it is to lose a patient. The slightest nuance or tone of blame from an esteemed colleague could ruin my day.

I had shared my experience with a friend from graduate school whom I thought would be understanding. He responded flippantly, “What did you do wrong now, Marian?” I knew his sense of humor. He didn't mean that, but there it was again… my fault.

The Lawsuit

Shortly after the suicide, I contacted my professional liability insurance company to inform them of the suicide. They asked me a few questions regarding Becky’s case: age, employment status, relationship with parents and so on.

At the end, the person said, “It’s very likely the parents will sue you for wrongful death. Given what you have told me, they will need someone to blame. Please write up a summary of the incident and let us know if you are contacted regarding a lawsuit.”

Most therapists I know live in fear of being sued. I was no exception. And, of course, that is exactly what happened. Approximately three months later I received a request for medical records from an attorney representing the family.

“You must release these records, Dr. Joyce,” she said when I called her.

“I will be happy to as soon as I receive a release from the representative of the deceased’s estate,” I replied, referring to the notes from my conversation with the insurance company.

“You know that her parents can get these records. Your refusal is just causing additional emotional distress,” she said. “I had been warned that the attorney would attempt to control me through intimidation. I thought I was ready for this, but I noticed my hand was shaking.”

“Are you giving me legal advice then, about who holds the privilege?” I said as firmly as I could under the circumstances.

“Alright, then, I will have the parents send you a release,” she finally conceded.

I received the release a day before I was about to leave for vacation, so I wrote to the attorney to say that I would respond to her request when I returned.

When I got back, I was welcomed by more correspondence from the attorney’s office threatening to lodge a complaint with the Board of Psychology. I am able to smile now at my naïveté then, to think that the friendly letter I wrote her before vacation would keep the pit bull from biting.

My insurance company assigned me an attorney before the lawsuit was even filed in order to intercept the badgering correspondence. My attorney arranged to come to my office to meet me in person, dressed very casually in jeans and cowboy boots. It was Friday, but his attire did not inspire confidence.

“So, how long have you been in this office?" he asked me. "I love this part of San Diego.”

"Oh, I've been here for seven years. Yeah, it's great to be so close to the park." He did not seem concerned, which worried me immensely. Perhaps he was trying to set me at ease, but his nonchalant approach was far from reassuring to me.

"Do you want to go over the details of the case?" I said. Why did I feel like the only one ready to work? Don’t you see the danger I am in, I thought. Don’t you understand what is at stake?

"We've got time," he said, "This is sort of a get-to-know you meeting. I already read the report you sent to the insurance company and I think we have a great case. Nothing to worry about."

About a month later, I received a letter, a “90 Day Notice Intent to Sue a Health Care Provider.” My attorney had warned me it was coming, but I was unprepared for the false allegations justifying the lawsuit, written up in a short paragraph, all set in boldface. It didn’t look like a carefully crafted legal document, more like a rushed memo by an employee who would later regret having written it. Like all of the attorney’s previous correspondence, it lacked proper punctuation and spacing—no period after Dr., no comma after however, no spacing between paragraphs. She doesn’t follow the rules, I thought. She doesn’t care about them. This frightened me.

A 90-day waiting period. So I have the summer off, I thought. No more letters in white or gray envelopes or upsetting voicemails from attorneys. It sounded heavenly. I can get a lot of house projects done in 90 days.

I eagerly returned to my current project painting the upstairs bedroom. I opened the can of Benjamin Moore Philadelphia Cream paint and stirred it until smooth and blended. I turned on the radio and the Westerfield trial was on. In February, David Westerfield, a 50-something single man, sexually brutalized and murdered Danielle Van Damm, a 7-year old girl who lived next door to him.

The defense attorney was cross examining Brenda Van Damm, the mother, who had been at a local bar with her friends, drinking, dancing, and smoking marijuana the night of the murder, returning home at 2 am.

“All of the doors were a little bit open,” Brenda said, describing the children’s rooms and then explained that she closed them that night when she returned home.

“Did you look inside?”

“No,” she said quietly.

“Why not?” What is the correct answer to that accusatory question, I thought. It’s going to come out defensive. He’s making her look negligent and wanton, obviously his intent.

“Because when I got—when I went upstairs to tell Damon,” she said, referring to her husband, “that I was home, I asked him how…how the tuck-in went, how everything went that night, if anyone asked for me, and he said that everything had gone fine, that they all had brushed their teeth and been read to and no one asked for me.”

As the defense attorney continued grilling her about her alcohol consumption that night, I felt my stomach tightening, my anger forming. Even if she had been too lax, she wasn’t responsible for her child’s murder. Her husband was home with her daughter. A mother is allowed a night out once in awhile.

I then imagined myself on the stand for the wrongful death of my client:

“Well, Dr. Joyce, did you ask your client if she was suicidal the session before she killed herself?”

“No.”

“And why not?”

“Because she didn’t appear to be more distressed than usual.”

“Than usual? What was her usual distress?”

“She was depressed.”

“And you didn’t think depression was cause enough to inquire about her suicidal thoughts?”

There really was no way to answer these questions. If I said I didn’t detect her distress, I appeared incompetent, but if I said I recognized her distress and did nothing, I was negligent. I’m screwed, I thought. I got down off the step ladder, set the paint brush down, and turned the radio off.

How was I supposed to live with all this uncertainty? I realized that I was deluding myself about a “summer off.” I decided to call my attorney, hoping he could help.

“Did you get the 90-day intent to sue letter?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s a bunch of lies. Where is she getting this stuff?”

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s always like this. I told you, you are low on the totem pole of people to sue in this case. It is what it is.” Once again, his cavalier approach was not reassuring

“Hey, have you been watching the Van Dam trial?” I said, changing the subject. “I had to turn it off. I don’t think I can get on the stand like that,” I said.

He laughed. “Relax, Marian. It’s not going to be anything like that. ” I thought of my dentist, needle poised over my gaping mouth: “This won’t hurt a bit.”

That phone call didn’t help, I thought after I hung up the phone. So instead, I popped in a U2 CD, turned up the volume, and went back to cutting in.

The “summons,” an official version of the “intent to sue” letter, arrived in September. I knew that all the allegations were false, but I didn’t trust that the truth would be sufficient. By then, six months into my dealings with the legal world, I was beginning to understand that the lawsuit was solely about money, how much the plaintiff’s attorney could get for her clients, how little the insurance company could pay on my behalf. “My attorney” was really working for the liability insurance company, not for me.

My attorney planned a lengthy phone appointment to prepare me for my deposition. As usual, he was his upbeat self.

“You just need to answer the questions,” he instructed me. “Don’t offer any information that the attorney doesn’t ask for,” he said.

“What if she asks me something way off-base? Will you make an objection?” I was already feeling tense. I found myself drawing spirals on my notepad.

“I can object, but you still have to answer the question. It’s not like in court, because there’s no judge,” he explained. “Don’t worry, Marian. She’s not going to ask you anything you can’t answer.”

I felt dread after our conversation. I went out to get the mail and I brightened when I saw the envelope from Bradbury and Bradbury, a company that makes exact reproductions of arts and crafts wallpaper. I spread the samples out and compared them. I liked the one with a delicate leaf pattern, and the accompanying border with vines and red berries. I called and ordered ten rolls for the dining room, and then impulsively added three of the rose pattern for the powder room.

When people ask me today how I survived a wrongful death lawsuit, I tell them that I threw myself into the renovation of my home. I wanted desperately to bring this house back to life because I could not resuscitate my client.

At the deposition, I finally saw the pit bull in person. She was a stout middle-aged woman with two inch grey roots on her dyed red hair. The attorneys for the hospital, psychiatrist, and emergency room doctor were there as well, dressed in dark suits. We sat around an oval table. I was at the far end seated in front of the plaintiff’s attorney and the court reporter was to my right.

“The plaintiff’s attorney grilled me regarding my credentials for thirty minutes. Then she worked her way line-by-line through the treatment notes.” After four hours, we took a lunch break and then she fired off detailed questions about the week of the suicide.

Afterwards, I met my husband for drinks at the Torrey Pines Lodge, a sprawling, gorgeous building in the Arts and Crafts style of architecture, like our house. I gravitated to the fire in the lobby bar.

“I love the wood tones in this trim,” I said, referring to the honey-colored wood on the fireplace. “It’s so warm, not like our dark mahogany.”

“Hey,” Joe said. I knew that “hey” meant he was coming up with an idea, which usually meant more work. “Let’s take down our wainscoting and trim and plane it. Then we can stain it a lighter, warmer tone.”

Normally I would have dissuaded Joe from such a time-consuming project. But I liked the idea of transforming the dark and dirty into something fresh and light.

“Great idea,” I said. “Let’s do it. It’ll make such a difference.”

That project involved sanding, staining and shellacking yards of wood, a project that outlasted the lawsuit.

After much haggling, the attorneys finally agreed on a settlement amount, which was shared among the defendants. Because it was a settlement, there was no admission of guilt by anyone. That should have set my mind at ease, but by then I knew the case was only about the money.

Grief and Healing

About five months later, I attended a course on clinical hypnosis given by a UCLA professor. He was demonstrating a particular projective device in which clients project unconscious material onto an imagined screen.

"I want you to get comfortable and close your eyes," he said in a soothing voice. I opened one eye to see if everyone was following instructions. They were, so I decided to give this a try.

He began to take us down a spiral staircase and count backwards from ten. When he made the suggestion my arm might lift up, it did. Once established that we were in a hypnotic state, he described the screen where my movie would play out.

“You are sitting in a dark movie theatre facing the screen. Let yourself go and watch the movie that unfolds on the screen.”

It took a minute to see anything on my screen. But then cartoon characters started dancing on a stage and then my sister appeared. The next movie was of my husband calling me from a train and then dancing with me once I boarded. Both movies were joyful.

I suppose I could analyze these for deeper meaning, but what happened next took me by surprise. I began to sob. I knew it was about Becky. I hadn’t yet cried like that about her death, about losing my client. I could finally let myself feel sad that she would never get that rewarding job she desired, or be free of her attachment to Matt to find the love of her life, or even be able to bury her parents.

It was only after that pivotal moment under hypnosis, when I wasn’t looking for it, really, that I was at last able to move past the feelings of guilt, blame, shame, and anger at the lawsuit.

The lawsuit settled, the house renovations finished, Joe and I decided to celebrate with a housewarming party.

Guests gushed over the house as they filed in.

“I can’t believe what you did with this house! Wow! How did you get rid of that dark stain?” a friend asked.

Joe and I looked at each other and smiled.

“It was a big job,” Joe said. “I wouldn’t recommend it for everyone.” I thought back to the evening after the deposition in front of the Torrey Pines fire. I guess we would have never done it if I hadn’t had the lawsuit, I thought. Then it struck me: I was beginning to gain some distance and perspective.

The friend from graduate school whose remark months earlier had so unsettled me came up to me.

“I meant to ask you about your lawsuit. Did it work out okay?” he said.

“Yes, it’s all settled. There shouldn’t be any repercussions,” I said.

“I’m really glad to hear that. I often wondered how you were doing. And I don’t think I ever told you I was sorry that you lost your client. I think I was a little afraid of the whole thing, to tell you the truth.”

“Thanks for that.” I said.

Regarding my work, I have once again recovered my enthusiasm, but it is tempered. I now know that anyone is capable of losing hope at times and even though I listen carefully to the subtle messages my clients share with me, sometimes they choose to keep parts of themselves completely concealed. I know my limitations and that I can’t predict or know what a person will do. And I have to live with that uncertainty and with the consequences that may ensue.
 

 ———————
 

If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available. Call or text 988 or chat 988lifeline.org

Infertility on Both Sides of the Couch

Family Planning

"When are we going to start a family?" asked my husband.

I felt a boa constrictor wrapping around my throat. For months now, the topic of children had evoked tension, leaving us powerless and detached from each other. The argument had become a tradition on Saturday mornings. We would sit in the living room in an awkward silence, avoiding eye contact, until my husband pierced the hush with what he deemed a simple question about our future.

My husband was comforted by having a plan. Three years into our marriage—my second—we were in our mid-thirties, established in our careers, and financially stable. For him the next step in our lives was to start a family, but his need for a plan set off a vicious cycle. I felt ignored and disrespected in our relationship and couldn't justify bringing a child into a fractured marriage. I craved connection and love and was not willing to commit to having a child until we resolved our relationship problems. My resistance made him more insecure and unsure of his focus, and he would ask me about starting a family as a way to relieve his anxiety. Unfortunately, his persistence pushed me away, leaving me feeling trapped and controlled and leaving him stranded without resolution.

“I felt immense pressure both from him and from society to conform and have children. Gradually, I isolated myself from my husband and emotionally shut down, as my sense of self and my voice vanished.” Feeling alone with no one caring about my thoughts and feelings, I believed I was not enough for my husband and that he had married me solely for procreation. Meanwhile, I was inundated with inquiries from our family and friends about when we would be parents.

My mother-in-law often phoned my husband's siblings to convey that her children were failing her since she did not have grandchildren. While growing up, my husband's mother talked a great deal about heirlooms—each piece of jewelry or china was a link between past and future generations. Grandchildren were an essential part of keeping the family traditions alive and to not have them meant the family had failed. She made it clear that my husband was not enough, just as I felt I was not enough as his wife. My resistance to the "plan" was a clear message to him and his mother that I would not conform.

His side of the family was not the only problem. My stepfather had the impression that all couples wanted children. He frequently dropped hints about what a joy they are, pointing to his grandson and saying things like, "See, aren't these fun and not so bad?" For him, family represented connection and closeness. Initially this was endearing but it soon became annoying.

While at a party, I declined an alcoholic beverage, which ignited rumors that I might be pregnant. When I heard the gossip, a wave of heat washed through my body. How dare my friends speculate? It was as if I were starring in the reality show, "When Will Wendy Pop One Out?"

The Family System

In 2005, I started therapy with a psychotherapist who practiced from a Family Systems model, the premise of which is that the family is an emotional unit—systems of interconnected and interdependent individuals, none of whom can be understood in isolation from the system. Over the course of my therapy, I came to understand that my symptoms of sadness, loneliness, and detachment were a consequence of the recurring patterns and interactions within my family. The sense of powerlessness I experienced evolved from my marital dynamics, my family history, and the cultural expectations of a woman in her thirties.

My parents divorced when I was thirteen years old. I was an unplanned pregnancy and the reason my parents had married. It was bad enough that I was a mistake, but I resented my parents even more for their divorce, and the struggles that I encountered during my teens trying to navigate through the turmoil of their divorce played a role in my delaying the start of a family.

During my first marriage, I was enrolled in graduate school and wanted to wait until completing my program to start a family. We would have been in our early thirties by then and my ex-husband wanted to be a father sooner. He had an affair and decided to leave. This time around I wanted to make sure I was in a healthy relationship, that we were not introducing a child into a doomed family. I did not want to recreate my childhood trauma for my own children.

At Christmas in 2006, my stepsister announced over dinner that she was pregnant with her second child. I broke down sobbing at the table. A hush blanketed the room as everyone stared at me. Although embarrassed and humiliated, I could not stop crying.

Two weeks later, my stepbrother shared the news about his wife's first pregnancy. My sister-in-law had planned on not having children but had changed her mind. I was consumed with feelings of betrayal. I was my own childless island in a world that demanded parenthood. I dove deeper into despair.

Couples Therapy

My husband finally realized that our marriage was at stake and agreed to couples counseling, but I wondered whether it was too late, as by this time my rage had evolved into numbness. I recalled our minister's marriage sermon encouraging us never to throw in the towel when things were broken, but another part of me was tempted to do just that. “You don't need a man, you survived a divorce,” the voice said. "Trust me, you’ll be much happier single." I contacted therapists, but they either did not return my calls or have any openings for new patients. Was the universe telling me it was too late for my marriage? The battle inside me grew more crushing until finally after three months, I found us a therapist.

Couples therapy became our new Saturday tradition. My husband had never been to therapy, hated conflict, and had always made choices with tremendous caution, sometimes over the course of many years. Therapy for him was about finding ways to manage his stress. If he knew when we would have a baby, he could plan accordingly. Should we reserve a slot at the day care now, since there could be a waiting list for a couple of years? “Should we start putting money into a college fund? Or should we begin grieving about not having a child?”

For me, therapy was about maintaining autonomy and establishing a healthy marriage. I wanted the freedom to make choices within the marriage, but feared he would leave me if I did not have a baby. It felt like an ultimatum. And for my husband, despite his discomfort about the therapy, he began utilizing what he learned about me. He realized that asking questions about starting a family was torture to me, so he stopped asking. As a result the perceived threat of the ultimatum faded.

In my professional life, I had wanted to open a private practice. Should I be saving money for the grand opening of my business or for a divorce? The marriage had to be healed before the practice could be born.

During our treatment, I wrote my business plan. My husband was proud as a peacock and bragged to others that I was making my vision come alive. I opened my practice in mid-2007, feeling finally alive after an emotional coma. When I purchased the new office furniture, my husband questioned the size of the sofa, believing it should be larger. Prior to our therapy, this question would have offended me and I would have felt undermined in my judgment. Instead, I confidently explained that the sofa worked well in the room. Understanding his tendency to err on the side of caution, I did not personalize.

He went ahead and assembled the office desk and filing cabinet and moved the sofa into the suite. To this day, he tells others it was a good thing that I ignored his advice because the sofa barely fit into the space. This was the sexiest thing he had ever done. Life was wonderful. I was enough as a wife and my business was thriving. Without pressure to conform and have a child, I decided to go off the Pill.

For three years we did not get pregnant.

Mystery Solved

From the time I was a teenager, I had a history with difficult menses. Like clockwork I got my period every 18 days and bled for 10 days, uncertain what PMS symptoms I would experience. My blood flow would be heavy, dark and impossible to keep up with, changing my tampons and pads every four hours and during the night bleeding onto my bed sheets. At times to get through my school day, I took over-the-counter pain pills for heavy cramps, lower back pain, or headaches. For my peers and teachers I maintained a pleasant façade, but what I wanted was to retreat into a corner and savagely eat raw meat and growl or be in my bed weeping and eating salty chocolate. I applied copious amounts of zit cream to my face attempting to fight a hopeless battle with breakouts. My bra and pants would restrict my breathing because I was bloated. During my annual exams, a range of doctors had explained these symptoms were stress-induced by my parent’s divorce, my divorce, and graduate school, and had prescribed birth control pills.

Now while off the pill, my life was good and I had no stress on which to blame the problem. I was receiving holistic care and yet was still physically and mentally suffering. Why was I having the same problems I had as a teenager?

I made an appointment with an OB/GYN specialist with little faith that I would find answers, but for the first time, a medical doctor was eager to learn what was going on with my body. He believed my symptoms were pathological and not related to stress and ordered blood work and an ultrasound.

A month later, the OB/GYN nurse escorted my husband and me to the doctor's office for my consultation. He was perusing my test results with a look of concern on his face when we walked in. Gazing up at us, he said, “I am unsure where to begin.” The blood work was perfect. The ultrasound, however, revealed why I’d suffered for decades and had not become pregnant during the past three years. Both of my ovaries were smothered in various types of growths (some were thyroid tissue), my fallopian tubes had blood, my uterus had polyps and was malformed, and as a result I was unable to carry a pregnancy. The doctor recommended a full hysterectomy.

My symptoms were not stress related. They were not my fault. A sense of calm flowed over me; my eyes welled up with tears. My husband took my hand and asked questions while I continued to absorb the news.

Judging Claire

Meanwhile, my professional life was evolving beautifully. I had the satisfaction of seeing my vision coming to life, and I loved owning my own business. For several years I had been seeing Claire*, a married and successful professional in her mid-thirties with a significant history of depression and anxiety. She had a warm sense of humor and loved to learn about herself. During the first couple of years working together, she feared her future children would be genetically predisposed to suffer from similar aliments and struggled between the desire to feel a child growing inside of her and her desire to adopt.

During the course of our therapy, Claire forgave herself for having a diagnosable mental illness; she realized the illness did not define who she was. She began to consider that she had plentiful and warm offerings as a mother and decided to conceive naturally. After a year of not getting pregnant—this was around the same time I went off the pill—Claire was diagnosed with infertility.

By then I was secure in my marriage and waiting to see if I got pregnant, but I struggled to maintain my alliance with Claire. Still vulnerable with my own triggers, I had my own opinion about the infertility treatment process and our sessions evoked strong emotions for me.

One in ten couples struggle with infertility issues. According to the medical model, infertility is a disease of the reproductive organs, and usually the first option in treatment is a daily injection of medication to stimulate the ovaries to develop eggs in the follicles (the structure in the ovaries that contain developing eggs). The side effects can include bloating, weight gain, headaches, and nausea. If this is unsuccessful, IVF (in vitro fertilization) begins, in which eggs are surgically removed from the ovaries and combined with sperm. Weekly ultrasounds and estrogen blood levels drawn twice a week assist the doctors in determining the best time to retrieve the eggs. The last resort for infertility treatment is the egg donor cycle, where an embryo formed from another woman's egg is transferred to the uterus of the woman trying to conceive. More coordination and time is involved since two women are being monitored for transfer.

As I witnessed Claire’s physical and emotional agony and the suffering in her marriage it caused, I began to judge her harshly. “How could she brutalize her body from treatments and spend so much money to conceive and carry?” I hated her for choosing to participate in the infertility treatment process and holding faith in the medical model. I felt lonely and betrayed that she conformed to society's pressure to attempt pregnancy at all costs. I wanted her to join me in rejecting this awful and debilitating process and to redirect her energies toward adopting a child.

Though I had every intention of becoming a mother, once I realized I was infertile, I never considered infertility treatment or adoption. Both seemed too unpredictable and a setup for repetitive grief and loss. It was disturbing to have such an intensely negative reaction to a client, so I began to repress these feelings and thoughts in an attempt to protect both of us. In the process, however, I became increasingly disconnected from Claire.

What was happening between us put strains on my belief in the humanistic approach, which emphasizes that we are in control of our destiny, our choices, and the discovery of meaning for our life’s narrative, and makes use of the relationship created between the therapist and patient as a catalyst for exploration and change. A safe arena was vital for Claire to share her narrative and to discover the meaning of her experiences—the energy in the room could then provide an atmosphere conducive for healing. Regardless of my opinions and beliefs, I wanted to support her in her destiny and choices. But did I have the freedom to accomplish this?

As a therapist, I participate in a weekly supervision group. While disclosing the pain of my challenges with Claire, I shared about my sensitivity to the fertility topic and my beliefs about the infertility treatment process. My peers validated me and understood why I felt threatened, but also challenged me about my countertransference and helped me to work through it. Other colleagues were offended by the infertility treatment process and called my patient "greedy." A few of them had been adopted, and were exasperated that it wasn't Claire's first choice. Others were sympathetic with her plight and could relate to her need to biologically conceive a child. Through the group process, I was able to witness all the different parts of myself being voiced through my peers, and I felt safe enough and free enough to get to some of my own core fears and doubts about infertility. Ultimately this freed me up to be much more present with Claire in the coming months.

Working Through and Joining With

During a subsequent session, Claire tearfully shared how painful it was to have no control during the infertility treatment process. My inner voice whispered, Ask her if she feels she has the choice to stop the infertility process. Before working through countertransference with my supervision group, I would have suppressed this voice, believing it was my own “stuff" and would not be helpful to Claire. Now my heart pounded; I couldn't help but speak up: “Who says you need to continue to fail with the pregnancy attempts?” Something in the room shifted. After a pause, Claire affirmed, "I could stop." I exhaled. We had finally found a moment of empowerment and connection.

Claire continued to participate in the infertility treatment process, and I joined the emotional roller coaster with her. This freed up much more space to explore her process and mine.

Therapy is not immune to the disruption of the infertility treatment process. “The scheduling of appointments revolved around Claire's menstrual cycle and she cancelled appointments due to the side effects of medications and clinic appointments.” We had lapses between appointments while waiting for the doctors to contact her for the next treatment cycle. All of this meant that I needed to figure out what would take care of me during her infertility series. That involved answering questions such as: How do I cope with my anger? How do I keep from getting stuck in her holding pattern of waiting? Do I charge for missed appointments?

With the ongoing support of my supervision group, I continued to explore my emotional reactions. Claire and I collaborated about payment for missed appointments—she willingly paid and the joint conversation made her an active participant in an otherwise helpless period. The medical doctors had no clear diagnosis about why she didn't get pregnant for three years and she suffered continuously from a sense of loss. She had always dreamed of being a mom and having a family and now she had to face the fact that it might not happen.

Claire tried to detach from her emotional turmoil and did her best to function at work, but the clock ruled her while she anticipated lab results. Her job performance began to suffer and the cost was guilt, shame, and embarrassment. Work became heavy and dreadful. Her depression ignited, leaving her brooding in isolation and sleeping for 17 hours or more every day. Her “should” cognitions were in overdrive and kept her paralyzed.

The Breakthrough

"I'm afraid you're mad at me for the last minute cancellation last week," she said. "I'm failing at everything." In fact I was angry about the appointment. Missed appointments touch on my vulnerability around not being recognized as valuable. But our agreement for her to pay for missed sessions, combined with my own awareness of the reasons behind my countertransference, made it possible for me to process my response outside of session and bring my full attention to figuring out what she was enacting and what it meant for her. I responded, "You think you should be able to manage life better. But things are dropping all around you: your relationship with your husband, your work, your friendships, and especially not getting pregnant. You're feeling so alone." I watched her reach for a tissue, look down at her lap, and wipe her tears. "What are the tears saying right now?”

In her soft voice, Claire answered, “I'm afraid my husband will be angry at me for not controlling my emotions. My anxiety is through the roof. I want to be in my bedroom with the covers over my head. It's unfair to expect my colleagues to do my work. I want to be with my friends but it hurts too much because they have babies or are pregnant.” She believed she needed to be perfect and worried about disappointing everyone around her, including me.

But this conversation about failure and disappointment positioned Claire to begin healing her marriage and bring her husband, family, and friends back into her life. Through addressing her loneliness, Claire articulated her envy about her friends being pregnant or having newborns. “She felt conflicted about whether to maintain her connections or isolate herself because it was too painful to be subjected to swollen bellies and to the innocent scent of newborns.” She also acknowledged she pushed her husband away because she did not want to be perceived as a "burden." He had a demanding job that made him unhappy, but it provided them with medical insurance to pay for the infertility treatment. She secretly fantasized about him attending medical appointments with her and being readily available to abruptly leave work to provide comfort when she received bad news. I encouraged her to share her emotional burdens with her husband, to let him feel her burden, as that is part of what it means to be intimate with another person. She began to feel less guilty and apologetic about her struggles and to share the craziness of the process with him. They became closer and her sex life began to thrive again.

Over the two-year period of her IVF treatments, Claire's visits to the reproductive health center would evoke a sense of helplessness and lack of emotional safety. She often felt rushed because she didn't get satisfactory information to her questions, and the clinic became increasingly more uncomfortable and sterile. As our work progressed, she was more assertive and less apologetic about demanding the attention of the nurses and doctors until she was satisfied with the gathered information. To increase her comfort at appointments, she brought her own pillow and blankets.

Unfortunately, Claire was given a lot of unhelpful advice from her own support system of family and friends, even medical doctors. She was told, for example, to "just relax" because her stress could be interfering with the infertility process. In the therapy sessions, we worked on how to handle unwanted and sometime hurtful advice and not absorb the harmful implications. When she deemed it appropriate, she informed people about what would be helpful or harmful.

Different Kinds of Pregnant

When the IVF failed, Claire opted for the final remaining option: an egg donor. Our sessions were spent with her describing how a donor was selected and the various reasons they donated their eggs. It was a surprisingly fun process for both of us.

After her second cycle with the egg donor, she curled up on the sofa in my office, hugging a pillow with a distant look in her eyes. Her lip trembling, she said, "For four days, I was pregnant. Now, I am pissed off.” Her rage demonstrated no guilt. She did everything right but was unable to carry her first pregnancy.

The following month, her third attempt was successful.

One day, well into her second trimester and beaming with life, Claire effused, “My boobs are huge!” She shared her ultrasound pictures of her healthy son and we talked through her stress about finances with the arrival of her baby. In her desire to save money and prepare for the baby's arrival, she requested a break from therapy. I encouraged her to go and create a loving home for her son. Tearing up, she said, “I can’t believe I can hear ‘my son’ after all of this.” Claire would soon be a mother.

Through quite a journey, Claire and I mirrored each other for a couple of years. My marriage and business were at last breathing life. I scheduled my hysterectomy, knowing my body would be cured. I learned a valuable lesson: Psychotherapy is a fertile process.

* Claire's name had been changed to respect confidentiality.

Calisthenics in Front of the Fun House Mirror

Sometimes my days bring to mind a funhouse mirror. I stretch, collapse, widen, or shrink depending on the clinical demands of the moment, fundamentally changing and fundamentally remaining the same, moment to moment and hour to hour.

Yesterday in my first session of the evening I was speaking with a young woman about the reasons for her recent spotty attendance. I fielded an interpretation that I know in every molecule of my being is correct, that she is trying to convince me of her essential badness and test if I will give up on her. She looked me dead in the eye and said “that is probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” I had to laugh. I can’t in all honesty say I delight in being called stupid, but I do enjoy her feistiness. And I know I have spoken to a part of her, a part she thinks is stupid and vulnerable and wrong: she will show up next week.

In my next session, a client is debating having an extended family session that would include several out-of-town siblings, including a brother who happens to be a psychiatrist. I’m a little excited and more than a little intimidated by the prospect of this highly trained and reportedly difficult fellow professional in the session. My client is talking about who she would like to have present in the session, and I am feeling uncomfortable because I don’t know the answer. Partly I just don’t know, partly my own anticipatory anxieties are getting in the way, and partly I am feeling her anxiety. I feel myself stalling out, but then remember with a sense of relief that I don’t have to know the answer. How is it possible to forget this so many times? We explore her feelings, and the answer reveals itself.

The next session I’m feeling a bit tired, and I don’t know if it is because of the couple I’m about to see, or the time of day. Normally, it would be dinner time, and a handful of almonds and an apple weren’t the dinner my body had in mind. My body clock and the darkness outside are telling me it is time to settle in at home. So I’m not sure if it is my tiredness or my sense of the emptiness between these two, the complete absence of anything that to me feels like love, only the graying embers of duty and convenience, that makes me say “you are trying to live in a house without a roof.” He is sad, she is angry. They leave my office no closer than before. I feel like a dejected salesperson with a useless little pile of tools and skills they don’t want to buy.

I have a second wind for my final client, thankfully, because she is ferociously smart, and not a bit hesitant to call me out on any foolishness, inaccuracy, or inattention. I worry sometimes that the sheer intellectual pleasure of a conversation with her can be a distraction for me, diverting me from the emotional issues that she needs help with. Tonight we talk about lies, and the truth in lies. It is a conversation that seems to twist and skitter with a life of its own; I feel like we are both following this path together, uncertain of its destination. These are the sessions I like the best, when I feel fully engaged as both participant and observer.

By the end of the night, I feel good. It was a satisfying night; I feel like I did my work well. But I’m tired. Really tired. I think to myself, how can it be so tiring, just talking to people? Then I consider: in these four sessions I felt foolish, anxious, sad, excited, inadequate, engaged, uneasy, tired, impatient, admiring, relieved—and that’s just for starters. I have been stretched and twisted and pulled in many different directions. I have had my own feelings, I have had feelings in response to another’s, I have felt the feelings of others. I have seen myself reflected back in many shapes and forms: stupid and clumsy, idealized, frustrating and dangerous, for a beginning but by no means complete list. Odds are I haven’t identified or sorted half of the feelings or realities that have floated through my little office tonight. Four hours of emotional calisthenics in front of a fun house mirror. Oh right, that’s why I’m tired.

George Silberschatz on Psychotherapy Research and Its Discontents

What is Empirically Known About Psychotherapy?

David Bullard: Let’s start with a little background information about your work. I first met you through the San Francisco Psychotherapy Research Group—can you talk about your involvement there?
George Silberschatz: Certainly. It was originally called the "Mt. Zion Psychotherapy Research Group,” founded by Joe Weiss who was joined by Hal Sampson, both psychoanalysts, in 1971. They were just starting to publish some research papers and were very active teachers at Mt. Zion Hospital when I began working with them in 1975. Their work together formed the basis of what is now known as Control Mastery Theory.
DB: You’ve been in private practice about thirty-five years and are a clinical professor at UCSF with a multitude of research papers on psychotherapy process and outcome.
GS: My book Transformative Relationships (Routledge, 2005) is on Control Mastery Theory, and my papers are almost evenly divided between research and clinical work, because they are so intertwined and I go from one to the other very easily.
DB: You are currently the president of the international Society for Psychotherapy Research, which includes chapters in North America, Europe, Latin America, and Australia. Would you talk a bit about the concepts “empirically-validated” and “empirically-supported therapies.” What are your thoughts about what is truly empirically known from psychotherapy research?
GS: Well, I have very mixed feelings about all of it because I don’t think it’s fundamentally based on scientific evidence.
I believe that the term “empirically-validated” is largely used when people are trying to market their specific brand of therapy.
I believe that the term “empirically-validated” is largely used when people are trying to market their specific brand of therapy. You know, “Our empirically-validated therapy is better than everything and everyone else, so if you need therapy, come see us!"

It seems a bit overdone and over-hyped. A lot of people have started saying “evidence-based therapy” instead of “empirically-based,” but what counts as evidence and how is the evidence portrayed? There’s a great deal of subjectivity in that process.
DB: In the early mention of “empirically-validated treatment,” researchers made another distinction between efficacy and effectiveness. Is there such a distinction in the real world versus laboratory research?
GS: It’s a big controversy. The term “efficacy” is used by people who believe that empirical evidence can only come from randomized clinical trials, i.e. in the lab. It has its roots in both medicine and pharmacology in the way drugs are tested and, basically, the proponents of this research paradigm feel that anything else isn’t empirical, isn’t evidence.
Manuals are essentially useless for practicing clinicians.
I wrote an article about this for the Journal of Consulting and Clinical Psychology called “Are results of randomized controlled trials useful to psychotherapists?” It was basically a debate between myself and my co-author, Jackie Persons, who is a cognitive behavioral therapist. She took the position that people should only be practicing empirically validated therapies—by which she meant Random Control Trial-Based Therapies or RCTS—and that it might even be unethical to do anything other than that.
DB: Which implies following a manual that such studies usually use so that the treatment condition is uniform across therapists?
GS: It does often imply following a manual. They punted on this a little bit and said there was some wiggle room for therapists to stray from the manual, but what’s a manual? I took the position that manuals are essentially useless for practicing clinicians.
DB: That’s refreshing and helpful to hear.
GS: There’s a lot of variability among clinicians, you know? There are a lot of very thoughtful people who think like Jackie, but there are also people that see the limitations of that as a model, especially for psychotherapy.
There is no support for the idea of one therapy being better than another.


The current—and I would say balanced and intelligent—position of the American Psychological Association is that when you really look at the evidence carefully, as they’ve done, there is no support for the idea of one therapy being better than another. But a lot of the proponents of the Randomized Control Trial for psychotherapy use their results to say, “Our results show that our method is better than yours.” That’s led to a rash of people trying to do trials on their new model of therapy. Every time there’s a new therapy, somebody has to do a trial showing that their new therapy is as good or better than some other one. That hasn’t been very productive, in my opinion.

Psychotherapy Works

DB: Overall, what would you say has been shown? For example, Consumer Reports did their research on their readers’ reactions to psychotherapy in 1995.
GS: That was a very large survey of psychotherapy effectiveness. I think it had a very useful purpose because it was actually asking the people who were using the service what they thought of it. It was pretty impressive.
DB: So there have to be quite a substantial number of technical issues within the field of psychotherapy research that we won’t go into today, but I heard Daniel Kahneman, who won a Nobel Prize for Behavioral Economics research, state in a recent interview that the most relevant, reliable outcome measures for a person’s happiness should be based on the report of the person’s friends. In other words, their evaluation would be more valid than anyone else’s. What would you say is the most useful outcome measure for psychotherapy?
GS: Certainly not the therapist’s!
DB: No!
GS: It turns out to be a very complex problem. I respect Kahneman's work very much. He’s a brilliant man. But I’m not sure that I would necessarily agree with him that a friend or significant other in a person’s life would have the best perspective. This is something that has troubled psychotherapy researchers for a long time: How do you measure outcome? Whose perspective do you rely on? There are plenty of people who feel the therapist has the best position. There are other people who feel that the patient is in the best position. There are yet other people who—
DB: How about the patient’s mother?
GS: She may not be in the best position either! Because someone like a mother or a spouse may have a particular vested interest. But it’s a very thorny problem in psychotherapy research and I don’t think anyone’s come up with a definitive answer yet. I think we tend to use multiple perspectives now but that creates its own particular difficulties as well.
DB: You have studied both outcome and process-oriented research. Overall, hasn’t it been shown through meta analyses of lots and lots of studies that psychotherapy works for the vast majority of people who undertake it?
GS: Yes.
DB: And other studies of process show the elements that seemed to have the most impact within a psychotherapy relationship.
GS: Well, you’re quite right that there’s evidence available now that shows unequivocally that psychotherapy works. There should be no more questions about that in anyone’s mind.
Evidence available now shows unequivocally that psychotherapy works. There should be no more questions about that in anyone’s mind….The issue of what it is about therapy that is causing it to work is still up for a lot of debate.
It definitely does work. What that means, concretely, is that a person who is having any one of a variety of psychological, emotional or behavioral kinds of problems will do far better getting psychotherapy than not. The issue of what it is about therapy that is causing it to work is still up for a lot of debate. And, of course, every school of psychotherapy, every brand, has their own particular perspective on that.

One thing that people do generally agree upon is that the therapeutic relationship, the nature of that relationship that some people call the “therapeutic alliance,” is a critical factor. Other people say the relationship is a necessary, but not sufficient, condition, but what is it about the relationship? If you’re a clinician, and you’re about to meet a new patient, the research doesn’t really tell you what you might do to enhance that relationship. What are the things that are involved? What are the steps involved in creating these productive therapeutic relationships?
DB: Versus looking up in the manual to find out which antibiotic to give for which infection?
GS: Yes, but even with antibiotics, it turns out that a lot more of that is art and trial-and-error than we are led to believe. It’s not quite as cut-and-dried and as narrowly evidence-based. People try one thing and that may work on half the patients. But it doesn’t work on the other half, and then you have to start experimenting with tweaking it.
DB: I guess we’d like to pretend that we live in a world of certainty.
GS: Yes. There is something inherently reassuring about that. But it’s also quite elusive, in my opinion.
DB: I’m reminded of an old saying: “There is no Zen, only Zen teachers.” In a way, there is no “psychotherapy.” It’s only each unique interaction between two people (or three people if it’s couples therapy).
GS: I think that framing it this way goes back to a very old argument in psychology. The controversy about nomothetic versus idiographic principles. Ideographic being very individualized kind of principles, and nomothetic applying to large general populations. And in psychotherapy, my own view of it, both clinically and per research, is that it is very individualized.

So what’s going to work well for one person is not going to necessarily work well for another.
Therapy has to be tailored to the particular needs and goals of the patient we’re working with.
Therapy has to be tailored to the particular needs and goals of the patient we’re working with. But, having said that, I also think that there are some general principles, and here is a good example of one: If therapy is tailored to the needs of a particular person, all other things being equal, it will be more effective and more successful.
DB: Your background and your extensive work with Control-Mastery Theory, developed by Joe Weiss and Hal Sampson, is all about that.
GS: Yes. Very much so. It’s one of the things that really drew me to their work. It really takes into account the particulars of a person, the nature of their particular problems, what their particular history is, and how the therapy can address that in a very individualized way.

"We Forgot to Ask the Patient!"

DB: What’s your opinion on getting regular feedback from clients? The research that I’ve seen, both for individual therapy and couples therapy, seems to be clear that having clients give written feedback after every session improved either the alliance or the outcome. Should therapists be encouraged to incorporate that more into their clinical work?
GS: It’s a very good question, and it’s an area that is really taking off like wildfire right now, not just in psychotherapy, but in the field of healthcare generally. One of the biggest initiatives in many, many years, at the National Institutes of Health, is what they call “Patient-Centered Outcomes Research.” A lot of research in healthcare, for decades actually, was really just based on what lab tests showed, or what a physician concluded. Nobody bothered to get the patient’s perspective, and suddenly people are saying, “Oh, my God, we forgot to ask the patient!”

So now there’s this huge catch-up game going on in terms of trying to get the patient’s point of view. In psychotherapy research, we’ve certainly taken the patient’s view into account a lot, but what is newer in psychotherapy is this point that you’re raising about feedback, and getting patients’ feedback after every session. People have tended to use symptom-based measures, so patients fill out a form at the end of each session to see how they rate the severity of various symptom profiles.

I think that getting the patient’s feedback is very useful, but I’m not particularly impressed with symptomatic measures. I think there are probably more important things that one could find out from the patient after a session. What did they find useful? How did they feel the therapist was responding to them? That’s useful information for therapists to know, and historically we just relied on our own impressions to get that kind of information.
Sometimes we’re right; sometimes we’re wrong, and we often don’t know which is which.
Sometimes we’re right; sometimes we’re wrong, and we often don’t know which is which. Having the patient be the arbiter of that information is very valuable.

Even without written feedback, one would hope that an experienced practitioner would draw out the patient’s feelings and perceptions if he’s seeing some kind of transference to what a therapist has said or done. We hope that that would be an integral part of the work.
DB: Sure.
GS: Some therapists, of course, explicitly ask patients at the end of or at some point in the session, “Well, how do you feel things are going today?” Or, “How do you feel you’re doing?” Or, “How are things with us?” That’s a useful thing to do, but the people that are more into systematic feedback would say that you may get more reliable data if the patient is outside of the session, sitting, thinking about the influence of the therapist. You may get a more complete picture of the patient’s experience that way, instead of—what’s that old term in research?—the “socially desirable” answer.

"What Exactly Does 'Cured' Mean, Anyway?"

DB: Let’s switch back to the marketing aspect of “evidence-based therapies.” I recently came across a practitioner’s website where he claimed that his particular brand of marital therapy has proven to be effective with 90% of his couples and 70% were “cured.” What are your thoughts about that?
GS: It strikes me as primarily marketing. It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around numbers like that. What exactly does “cured” mean, anyway?
DB: Talk about the medical model! As if the people came in limping and left skipping merrily along.
GS: There’s plenty of evidence that therapy, including couples therapy, is effective. It works. But there’s no evidence whatsoever to support the idea that one particular brand is systematically better than another. There just isn’t evidence for that. People make all kinds of claims, but it just isn’t supported when you look at it on the broadest possible level.
DB: I found a couple of articles through the American Psychologist with tables about empirically validated therapies. One broad grouping is “well-established treatments.” And then they have “probably efficacious treatments.” I’m sure you’ve seen all of that.
GS: Yeah, absolutely.
DB: And someone cited 420 different defined psychotherapies. Do you think those are also marketing attempts to differentiate themselves from the rest?
GS: Yes, I think it is primarily marketing. I mean, there just can’t be 420 fundamentally different ways of doing this work. It flies in the face of common sense. I see it as what somebody called the “narcissism of small differences.” People have variations on cognitive therapy, to take a few examples. Albert Ellis, “Rational-Emotive Therapy.” You have Aaron Beck’s “Cognitive Therapy.” You have Jeff Young’s “Schema Therapy.”
There just can’t be 420 fundamentally different ways of doing this work. It flies in the face of common sense. I see it as what somebody called the “narcissism of small differences.”


And then there are probably 20 other variations of it. Well, are they really all that different? I don’t think so. I think it’s just people wanting to create a brand rather than looking for commonalities. They’re looking for, “this is my way,” so that they can develop empires and training institutes and all that.
DB: I’ve talked to a number of colleagues, a few of whom I guess may be possibly nearing retirement, and they look back over the years and wonder, “How did I do? How did it all go?” Arnold Lazarus, years ago, did some follow-up with as many of his patients as he could. Could you comment on how he did that, or your knowledge of that?
GS: I don’t know the specifics of Lazarus’ work on that, but I do know therapists who do this routinely. I’ve always had a lot of fascination and admiration for it, where a therapist will, after a number of years, get in touch with their patients and ask them to come back and to check in and to see how they’re doing. This is, obviously, without charging a fee. It’s just the therapist wanting feedback. Lou Breger wrote a book recently called Psychotherapy: Lives Intersecting in which he describes his experience contacting a lot of his former patients, and asking them how they’ve done. I think more of us should do it, probably.
DB: There are ways to do it, obviously, that ensure ethical reconnection with past patients.
GS: Yes. One has to be sensitive to respect their privacy. I mean Lou Breger got permission from all of his patients and any identifying data were disguised in his book. But even if one isn’t writing about it, just for one’s own edification, systematically getting a patient’s point of view several years after the end of therapy—what they felt about it, whether it was helpful or not helpful—could help sharpen us as clinicians.

We Are All Skinner's Pigeons

DB: Do you feel your clinical work with people is impacted by research results and, if so, to what degree? Or are you more impacted by what has happened in the session? One person pointed out to me quite a while ago, that in a sense, we therapists may be similar to Skinner’s pigeons—we get reinforced to do the things that work for us with our individual clients or couples. Research and theory can, perhaps, clarify and codify what we are doing or should do, but meanwhile, we’ve been getting these experiences with people about what works and doesn’t work. Do you have a sense of whether your own direct experience of doing therapy is most influential, versus reading research results?
GS: I’d say that my own work has been more influenced by my patients’ feedback and from teaching and observing what other therapists are doing in their work and how that’s going. In that case, I have the luxury of not being in the room at that point so I can think more broadly about what’s happening or not happening. I would say that those experiences, along with my own supervision—I’ve had therapy supervision for many, many years by really good people—have probably shaped my work the most.

There are some things from research that have also affected me. In my early training, which was largely psychoanalytic in the 70’s, the role of interpretation, particularly transference interpretation, as a primary mutative factor, was thought to be the primary effective ingredient of psychotherapy. My colleagues and I did some research on that and found, along with others, that there was no evidence that transference interpretations were especially powerful.
My colleagues and I did some research … and found, along with others, that there was no evidence that transference interpretations were especially powerful.


So that certainly led me to rethink everything. I thought, “Wait a minute. All the stuff that we’ve been learning from very senior psychoanalysts—there isn’t really any evidence supporting it other than the fact that they say so?” That really led me to question the role of interpretation in psychotherapy.
DB: Is that close to the idea that information—insight—can be imparted that will change people versus people having an experience that changes them?
GS: That’s exactly right. There’s a very gifted psychoanalyst, Frieda Fromm-Reichman, who said patients don’t come for insight; they come for experience. So this view has been around for a while, particularly in the so-called interpersonal school of psychoanalysis. I think that more often than not, people do learn from their experiences.

Having said that, I also want to say that in terms of my commitment to individualizing psychotherapy, it is true that there clearly are people who do learn a lot from new information, so I don’t privilege one or another. I don’t privilege the idea that there’s a particular technique that is across the board better than others. We might even say that for some people, having a new insight, a new thought about themselves or their lives or their childhood or current process, gives them a new experience.
DB: Yes, it can.
GS: Maybe more compassion for themselves.
DB: It could work both ways. It can work that the insight gives them new experiences. It can also work that new experiences opens them up to new insights.
GS: I would say it really does work both ways. And there’s no way to know in advance which it’s going to be for any given individual.
DB: What are your thoughts more generally about the role of research in a practitioner’s life?
GS:
Unfortunately research hasn’t given clinicians and practitioners a lot that they can use.
Unfortunately research hasn’t given clinicians and practitioners a lot that they can use. That is changing and will continue to change in a positive way, but the whole emphasis on the Randomized-Control Trials and so on has not helped clinicians much in my opinion. Other people have different views about this, obviously.

I think what can begin to help clinicians more is the very consistent research finding that “therapist effects” trump treatment effects. In other words, if there are therapists doing a trial of three different therapies, it turns out that there are particular therapists in all three of those conditions who are actually better than their peers.
DB: Those must include what some have referred to as “non-specific treatment effects.”
GS: And those effects are bigger than the particulars of the therapy that’s being practiced. To me, that’s a really interesting finding. And the question that it begs is, well, what are those therapists doing? Let’s figure that out. And, if we can figure out more about that, we could try to train other people to do that or try to incorporate more of that in our own work.

"He Was a Wise Dude, That Buddha"

DB: The final area I’d like to discuss with you is your own interest and involvement in Buddhist concepts. You’ve done very well-received seminars and workshops with Steve Weintraub, a Zen priest and psychotherapist, on Buddhism and psychotherapy. Is there anything that you would like to say about that?
GS: Overall, Buddhism, for me, as well as just the experience doing psychotherapy, has taught me that much in human life seems to get better when you can have more self-compassion. I’ve been interested in Buddhist thought for a very, very long time. My interest in it probably dates back to when I was studying psychology as an undergraduate. I was really interested in Freud. I was interested in Carl Rogers. I was interested in the Human Potential Movement.

Then I had this kind of—I don’t know what to call it—like an insight. I thought, “Wait a minute. People have been thinking about these things way before Freud, way before Rogers or Maslow; there’s a history to this. And it’s a very, very old and long one.” I would say that
Buddhist thinkers have been paying attention to the nature of mind and suffering for longer than just about anybody else.
Buddhist thinkers have been paying attention to the nature of mind and suffering for longer than just about anybody else. They’ve had a lot of valuable insights into what causes people to suffer, and how people’s suffering can be alleviated and reduced and so on. So at that broad level, I think Buddhism has a lot to teach us about just basic human psychology, and particularly the nature of suffering and what causes people’s suffering.

It’s different, in my opinion, from organized religions, in the sense that it doesn’t say one’s salvation will come through this or that route. I would say it’s a very broad model. It allows people to apply the teachings in their own lives in their own way. It doesn’t really require going to church or synagogue every week or every month or that kind of thing. But it does give certain tools that people can use in a very reliable and useful way.
DB: I’ve seen a commentary attributed to the Buddha, where he sounded like an empirically-based fellow. He essentially said, “Don’t believe anything I’ve told you. Try these things out for yourself. And if they work for you, great. If they don’t, go onto something else.”
GS: Yeah. I think that’s one of the things that has contributed to Buddhism gaining enormous popularity in the West right now. We have something that fits very well with the kind of individualized and democratic mindset that we can learn things by seeing what works for us. There is a lot of wisdom in that. He was a wise dude, that Buddha.
DB: They’ve updated it. I’ve run across some people who are espousing “Open-Sourced Buddhism,” that we are free to choose from those schools of Buddhist thought, from the very cognitive-based wisdom of Tibetan Buddhism to the no-thought idea of Zen.
GS: I love the idea, and would love to see more of that open-source thinking applied to psychotherapy. One of the things that we have right now in therapy is the equivalent of proprietary systems, where people develop one of those 420 brands of therapy, and then you just have to get in and do it that way. As opposed to an open-source model, which is people getting in there and using it for their own purposes and contributing to it, growing it in their ways—which is what’s happened to Buddhism. People are growing in all kinds of ways in the West, and I’d love to see more of that actually happen in psychotherapy.
DB: Supposedly a graduate student went to Jung one time and asked, “How do I become the best therapist I possibly can?” And he replied, “Go to the library, read everything good that’s been written about the art and science of psychotherapy, and then forget it all before you peer into the human soul.”

Well, thank you. I really, really appreciate having had this time with you.
GS: Thank you.

Technology and Psychotherapy

A recent article on a study from the University of Zurich offered the headline, "Psychotherapy Via Internet as Good as If Not Better Than Face-To-Face Consultations." It does not surprise me when I think about many of my clients’ everyday lives in the Bay Area: technology tends to be seen for the most part as a fun, useful and normal part of life. It also makes sense when I think about the ways that technology, if wielded strategically, can sometimes make things simpler and more immediate. Grandkids and grandparents all over the world would agree (thanks Skype!), as would families with service members deployed in far-off countries.

Here's a quote from the article in Science Daily about the online psychotherapy study, "In the case of online therapy, the patients tended to use the therapy contacts and subsequent homework very intensively to progress personally. For instance, they indicated that they had re-read the correspondence with their therapist from time to time. ‘In the medium term, online psychotherapy even yields better results. Our study is evidence that psychotherapeutic services on the internet are an effective supplement to therapeutic care,’ concludes Maercker [one of the study’s authors].”

Skype therapy could improve outcomes while it lowered the barrier to accessing therapy. In one way of thinking about it, what was once a trip across town and a 2-hour commitment is now 50 minutes at one’s desk.

But I notice a conservatism and even a bit of prejudice against technology use among therapists: Skype, texting, online scheduling, and other things can be treated as if they are volatile substances when in fact they are more and more a part of everyday life, used by lots of people to great effect. Therapists can benefit from remembering the wisdom that often what seems unstable and jarring to an older generation is soon enough just “the telephone”—utterly banal and safe.

A few years ago a former Supervisor warned me against texting with clients about appointments and scheduling shifts. When I questioned him further, however, he admitted that email was ok for this, and that he emailed with clients about appointment times, though not clinical material. Most therapists under forty who I ask about texting with clients say it is the same thing—just a quicker form of email. I have even heard a client assert, “It’s rude to call someone on the phone now. You interrupt their day and make them say ‘how are you?’ Texting is more polite, faster, and doesn’t require needless formalities.”

I think that the obvious insight here, that technology changes and what seems outlandish today will soon be normal, can go one step further. What if therapists could harness the excitement and convenience of technology to improve our usefulness to clients and to improve our ability to help clients change their lives?

I've been thinking a lot about therapists and technology lately, as I have been part of a group testing out a new mood-tracking app called Senti. With Senti, users answer a few relevant questions about mood and emotion throughout the day and Senti keeps track of how they seem to be doing. The questions both track useful information (“Thursday tend to be a rough day for me”) and also function as a mini-intervention, just as if someone had texted you to say, "hey, put your feet on the floor, take a deep breath, and tell me how you're really feeling right now."

But when I described the app to another therapist she was skeptical. "It sounds great," she said, “but therapists are late adopters. You'll never get them to use it with clients." Similarly, The New York Times recently ran an article by therapist Lori Gottlieb with the headline, "What Brand is Your Therapist?" In it, she ponders whether therapy as we know it is a think of the past. "I hate to think that therapy is an outdated idea, too slow and too private to satisfy a population that has come to expect immediate responses and constant gratification."

I see people each day needing help coping with divorce, eating disorders, anxiety, depression, and other problems that cannot be repressed and forgotten and that need attention. There is a great need for inner work and for the relief of human suffering. Rather than thinking technology is a barrier to connection, we can ask what Darren Kuropatwa asks in his presentations about technology and learning: “What can I do now that I could not do before?”

What if instead of a necessary evil, technology could facilitate a different kind of depth—the depth of a therapy that can be held by a client in their hand; where self-support, self-inquiry, and a therapist at the other end of the wi-fi connection make transformative work more possible? After all, there is nothing about Skype or about an email exchange that is inherently glib or false. What matters is the content and the material and the depth to which the client can face themselves, with the powerful support of another person trained to be of use. Whether the therapist is on Facetime or tweeting reminders to followers to pause and breathe when angry feelings erupt, what matters is that people get better and the world gets better. And for that project we need every tool we can get.

Charles Mansueto on Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

OCD and Its Misconceptions

Victor Yalom: We can assume that our readers who are therapists and students of therapy or counseling or social work know something about obsessive compulsive disorder, but may not have a great deal of expertise. So what are a couple of things that therapists don’t know or may misunderstand about OCD?
Charles Mansueto: Well, the first misconception is that it’s amenable to a broad range of psychotherapeutic interventions. It’s not. It appears that that the treatment that’s clearly effective and has been well tested is cognitive behavior therapy. The second kind of treatment that is available is pharmacological treatment that typically impacts the serotonin system.

The first misconception is that it’s amenable to a broad range of psychotherapeutic interventions. It’s not.

Because it’s widely thought of as a brain-based or biological disorder having a biological substrate, one misconception is that it needs a biological solution, that a person must be treated with medications to correct whatever anomalous conditions exist when OCD is present. That’s not the case. The learning-based treatment, Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT), has been established and continues to be emphasized as the treatment of choice in the vast majority of cases.

VY: We hear that about so many conditions now that they are biologically based, and I think many therapists are skeptical. What’s the evidence for OCD being biologically based?
CM: The evidence comes from basic studies of brain scans. Some early research, for example, identified the activity in the brain that occurs when OCD is present as identifiably abnormal. I participated in a study with Judith Rapoport using Pet Scan imaging. We found that when the cortex, the thinking brain, perceives a danger of some sort, it transmits a signal down to deeper structures of the brain. In people with OCD, the caudate nucleus seems to not be able to regulate these worrying signals. But when OCD has been treated successfully, either by the serotonergic drugs or by cognitive behavior therapy, there’s a degree of normalization of brain function. There’s a lessening of that repetitive activity within the communicative structures in the brain.
VY: So with brain studies, there’s some clear differences between people with OCD and the “normal population,” and there’s a difference between pre-treatment and post-treatment OCD. Is that what you’re saying?
CM: Exactly.
VY: But I’m sure looking at the brain you could find brain differences in many groups of people. That doesn’t prove that it’s a neurologically-based. That’s correlation. So what other type of evidence is there?
CM: Well, there’s the family studies that show a greater-than-chance-alone incidence of OCD within families. So there’s a suggestion that there’s a genetic element to the transmission of OCD. There are other possibilities, of course—cultural transmission, social transmission—but there’s strong evidence for some genetic linkage.
VY: And then there’s some more intriguing evidence of OCD being related to Tourette’s syndrome, which I know you have done a lot of research on.
CM: Those of us who treat OCD frequently often come across the co-existence of OCD and tics and Tourette’s syndrome, most often in children. There is often great difficulty in distinguishing between complex tics in adolescents, for example, and compulsions. So the question comes up often: Is this is a tic? Or is it a compulsion? Now those have important treatment implications because we have different sets of tools for OCD versus Tourette’s. But there are a lot of close similarities and an intriguing connection between the two that hasn’t been well-clarified in the literature.]

Strep Throat and OCD

VY: I recall hearing in the past that there was some potential linkage between Tourette’s syndrome and strep throat. Is that true?
CM: Yeah. It’s called “PANDAS,” Pediatric Autoimmune Neurologic Disorder Associated with Strep. Cute name but not a very cute disorder. Sue Swedo and others have pointed out that there seems to be a link between rapid onset in childhood strep infections and, in some case, the emergence of OCD-like symptoms, tic symptoms, and an array of other presumed neurological symptoms, like hyperactivity.

There seems to be a link between rapid onset in childhood strep infections and, in some case, the emergence of OCD-like symptoms, tic symptoms, and an array of other presumed neurological symptoms, like hyperactivity.

More recently, there’s been speculation that other diseases, such as Lyme Disease, might also be able to initiate or exacerbate symptoms of OCD and some of these other related kinds of problems. Now that it’s been identified as such, we’re seeing more and more children who are presumed to have a biological-based onset—or infection-based onset—of OCD and these related problems.

VY: So there are multiple ways that this might manifest, in terms of symptomatology—a lot of complexities there.
CM: Well it adds the possibility of environmental causes. So it’s not just that a traumatic incident or a biological vulnerability are the only causes, but relatively common infections may also be implicated in the etiology of OCD.
VY: Has the traditional psychoanalytic/psychodynamic explanation for it been totally discredited?
CM: Well, it’s certainly very interesting and compelling, but it’s very hard to prove in research, as you might guess. But more importantly, treatments based upon psychoanalytic and psychodynamic presumptions do not seem to have a significant impact on OCD, at least in the cases that have been researched.

OCD and Obsessive Compulsive Personality Disorder

VY: Is there any correlation at all between what we think of as obsessive compulsive personality disorder and OCD? Or are those two really quite distinct things?
CM: Well, they are distinct, but again they’re curiously related. We do distinguish the disorders, putting them in two different parts of the DSM and they’re differentiated relatively easily from diagnostic criteria. However, my own view is that we’re talking often about how ego-dystonic versus syntonic it is. In other words, how much does a person who is extremely orderly and very concerned about germs and cleanliness— how much do they value that? Do they see that as part of themselves, the way they are? Their own characteristics as opposed to something that happened to them that they would like to get rid of?

Treatments based upon psychoanalytic and psychodynamic presumptions do not seem to have a significant impact on OCD.

With OC personality disorder, one distinction that’s made is that the behavior is ego-syntonic. The person doesn’t necessarily want to give up this part of themselves because it’s well-integrated into their overall functioning, their value system, their dispositions to action and their history. With OCD it’s more dystonic. It’s something that happens to me and I want to get it out of me at all costs.

But we do see a continuum here. We see individuals who are more or less committed to maintaining their particular approach to life, their perfectionistic tendencies, their extreme cleanliness, their methodical orderliness, to the point where they are doing more organizing than they are working; it becomes very dysfunctional. So I’m not convinced that we are talking about two totally different populations. But that’s the way we think diagnostically.

VY: Let’s talk about the course of the disorder. Let’s say someone has classic OCD—hand washing, door checking, those types of behaviors. When does this typically start and if left untreated, does it tend to go throughout the course of their life?
CM: Well, we don’t have perfect information on this because we only see people who are in trouble, when things haven’t resolved. So there may be people out there who experience significant OCD that then resolves, but we don’t see those individuals very often. But typically, OCD occurs in children around age eight, nine, ten or there is another onset cluster in late puberty/early adulthood. Whether they’re identical is up for some debate. There do seem to be differences in many of the childhood cases we see. Some of the work I’ve done with what I’ve come to call “Tourettic OCD” tends to appear more typically in childhood.

Whether a person gets it early or later, it seems to be chronic when left untreated.

But whether a person gets it early or later, it seems to be chronic when left untreated. It does wax and wane though. There probably are many individuals who are able to adapt and continue to live reasonably productive and happy lives. But for many individuals it becomes a true disorder, in the sense that it substantially decreases their ability to be happy and satisfied with the quality of their lives.

VY: Right, you said that obsessive organizing behaviors interfere with work, but I imagine it can also interfere with relationships.
CM: Very much so. We work with a lot of families, and a whole family’s life can revolve around the OCD of one individual within that family.

Treating the Family

VY: Does an example come to mind?
CM: Let’s say an older adolescent or a young adult continues to live with the family, with the parents, and the parents realize that the person is impaired, and very dependent on them. Well, as parents often do, they try to keep the person as comfortable as possible, as comforted as possible, and that means they begin to adapt their life to the needs of that individual. Those needs can often be excessive and very bizarre. It may involve cleaning and separating dirty things from clean things. It may involve strange eating patterns. But the family becomes more and more inclined to revolve and have their home life dominated by those requirements. In that case, we have to often treat the entire family.Now that’s more typical of children and adolescents, obviously, but we see people who are up there in age and they worry that their child cannot exist without them and their time is limited. Those individuals often reach out in desperation even though their loved one is unwilling to get treatment and just simply wants everyone to continue to cater to their unique and idiosyncratic needs.

VY: It becomes a kind of codependent situation where their attempts to comply or adapt to the OCD sufferer probably reinforces it.
CM: It’s a big problem. At the OC conferences, we often have rooms full of parents who are there because their children—usually adolescents or young adults— wouldn’t come. They’re trying to figure out how to get their children to agree to participate in treatment.
VY: Let’s delve into treatment. You mentioned that cognitive behavioral therapy is the treatment of choice?
CM: Yes. The expert consensus guidelines were developed in the late 90’s, 1990’s, and haven’t been modified since because, except for the addition of a few medications into the treatment approach, the guidelines are still very solid. About 70 or so treatment experts from around the world were asked to put together the guidelines for those who are not experts at treatment.I think just under two-thirds were medical people, MD’s, and across the board, CBT was recommended for individuals with OCD, sometimes in combination with medication for more severe cases. But medication alone was seen to be a second best treatment, except in the case of more severe adults. Essentially CBT is the treatment of choice, and we do biofeedback, relaxation training, assertiveness training, all under the umbrella of CBT.

The Experts Agree: The Solution is CBT

VY: We’re a field that doesn’t always easily come to a consensus about what to do when you’re sitting with another human being in the room to help them with their malaise, but it sounds like at least for the treatment of OCD, there is a higher consensus than we typically find.Let’s get into the specifics of CBT treatment. Let’s take a prototypal case—a hand washer or a checker who’s checking the locks or checking to make sure that the stoves are turned off. Let’s say this is someone who is coming voluntarily to your office and wants to get some help. How do you start out?

CM: Education first. There are things to know about OCD.

It can feel very mysterious and just because someone has it doesn’t mean they understand it.

It can feel very mysterious and just because someone has it doesn’t mean they understand it. So the first step is to help explain that there are understandable relationships between symptoms and elements within OCD. It’s important to explain this because it suggests that there are proper lines for treatment.

VY: I assume you have to do some kind of assessment on what type of OCD they have, what’s the severity, what they’ve tried so far.
CM: Most people have received some treatment when they first come to our treatment center, but not proper treatment—not CBT and often not even the appropriate medications.The letters themselves tell something about the problem. First there are the obsessions—whether it’s about germs and contamination, or locks and safety from marauders, or fear of displeasing God—whatever the nature of the obsession, there’s typically a belief in a threat that must be avoided at all cost. These obsessions have a negative emotional impact; there’s often a great deal of anxiety and shame that accompanies them.Next we have compulsions. There are two ways of being compulsive. One way of being compulsive is to avoid any circumstance that arouses those ideas and fears associated with the obsession. So I might try to avoid thoughts that are negative towards other people if I fear that God is displeased by that, or lascivious thoughts. Or I might try to avoid touching doorknobs or coming in contact with people’s hands because I fear that I may pick up some disease.

VY: So those are the avoidance type of compulsions.
CM: Yes, those are avoidance compulsions. The other type of compulsions are the rituals, which are used when certain things can’t be avoided. So pleading with God for forgiveness for having improper thoughts, praying over and over in certain ways to ensure that God realizes that I wish to be forgiven and am unhappy with my behavior.Or the washing that’s done in order to get rid of the possibility that there are germs on me, and the obsessive scrubbing and showering and cleansing of clothes and so forth. Or the checking of locks over and over because maybe I missed the lock or I accidentally unlocked it instead of locking it. Or that just looking at it isn’t enough. I have to check it physically or ask others to reassure me that the lock is, in fact, well secured.

VY: Listening to this, I’m imagining psychodynamic-oriented people finding these behaviors rife with potential meaning, but you don’t go there in your approach, right? You don’t put too much effort into figuring out what the meaning of these things are?
CM: Well, there are situations where some traumatic or highly stressful experiences of the individual might have preceded certain kinds of problems. But that’s not critical. The origins of the problem don’t seem at all essential to a successful treatment of the problem. Nor does insight necessarily produce the kind of improvements that one would hope for. So we think of insight into the origin of the problem, or understanding the meaning of it and so forth, as somewhat autonomous from the alleviation of the problem itself.

Avoidance and Its Discontents

VY: So getting back to treatment—once you’ve done some sort of assessment and have a sense of what the obsessions or the compulsions are and how severely they’re impacting that person’s life, then what do you do?
CM: Next you point out the way these behaviors often worsen the condition. Let’s take a common example: A child wants to avoid sleeping in the dark, but the parents insist that they stay in the dark, and maybe give them a little nightlight or open the door a crack. If they scream loud enough, will their parents leave the light on? No. Parents will say, “No, we’re going to turn off the light. You know you have to get back to sleep.” Avoidance is a way of maintaining fears.
VY: So if they cave in to the child’s demands and leave the light on, that’s going to reinforce the child’s fear.
CM: Right. It’s like not swimming in deep water isn’t going to help you get confident in your swimming ability in deep water. Not taking the training wheels off the bike isn’t going to make you a confident two-wheel bike rider. What we need is exposure to the experiences that cause us fear so that we can actually gain confidence and overcome our fear.

The origins of the problem don’t seem at all essential to a successful treatment of the problem. Nor does insight necessarily produce the kind of improvements that one would hope for.

Similarly with OCD, what we do is provide methodical and manageable levels of exposure to the feared elements, with the assumption—and borne out by our experiences—that the person will eventually become less fearful; and when the fear is lessened or extinguished, they have no longer have to perform rituals or compulsively avoid the original cause of their fear.

VY: You’re talking about exposure and response prevention.
CM: Mental exposure to things that cause us unwarranted fear, and then response prevention: encouraging the person to forego any abrupt reductions or eliminations of their fear, because the nervous system needs time to adapt. With repeated exposures, and saying, “Yes I know you’re anxious, but don’t wash your hands. Let’s let your nervous system get used to the fact that you have a great deal of nervousness and fear about this”—over time, what we typically see is a person becoming more comfortable with higher levels of fear-invoking distress.
VY: So how do you actually do that? These people are very invested in their symptoms so it can’t be easy. What are the steps? What do you do in the first session, the second session?
CM:

We have to come across as knowledgeable experts in order to instill confidence in them to allow us to lead them into the belly of the beast.

In orthodox, standard treatment, there’s the cognitive therapy component, where there’s a great deal of education about the way these things work—why their efforts to remain comfortable are thwarting their wishes to overcome their OCD. This educational component is key and we have to come across as knowledgeable experts in order to instill confidence in them to allow us to lead them into the belly of the beast. We have to do it in a way that allows them to experience some of these corrective measures, so that they can say, “Whoa. I’m much more comfortable doing this than I ever imagined I could be.” That’s the first step out of the pit.

VY: So you start by explaining how the treatment’s going to work and establishing yourself as an expert so that they’ll do what you tell them to do.
CM: And the proof’s in the pudding.
VY: So with the hand washer, will you give them some homework in the first week?
CM: Yes.

“Do You Know Somebody Who Got AIDS from Touching a Doorknob?”

VY: Do you tell them to go cold turkey?
CM: Not usually, because these fears are heavily entrenched and have been reinforced over a lifetime. So there has to be a great deal of preparation, cognitive therapy, correcting of misconceptions and identification of distorted thinking to help prepare the person for more experiencing and tolerating of their discomfort.
VY: So how do you do that? If these people have a very strong belief, bordering on delusional, that they’ll get AIDS from touching a door knob, for example, how do you get them to start touching door knobs? Clearly just presenting them with their distorted thinking isn’t going to be enough, right?
CM: Well, you start with simple observations like, “Other people seem to be touching doorknob quite regularly. Are your friends who touch doorknobs dropping like flies from AIDS? Do you know somebody who got AIDS from touching the doorknob? Have you ever heard an expert who understands disease processes suggest that we should all avoid touching doorknobs because AIDS or some other deadly diseases can easily be transmitted?” You start point out flaws in the thinking process.
VY: So having a logical discourse can be effective?
CM: It helps. It establishes a foundation of looking at things differently. These people are not crazy; they’re very intellectually competent, in fact, so they’ll begin to take notice of the many inconsistencies in the way they address these things. They might have a magical way of ensuring that they don’t get a disease—for example rubbing their hands on their pants six times.

We might ask, “What scientific principle suggests that rubbing it six times makes you safe, while rubbing it seven times or five times doesn’t?”

So we might ask, “What scientific principle suggests that rubbing it six times makes you safe, while rubbing it seven times or five times doesn’t?” And they’ll go, “Wow. Yeah, now that you mention it, it sounds kind of silly.” We begin to undermine their notion that this makes sense.

Nobody wants to live life like this. They’re just so afraid of giving it up. So they really want to believe you when you say that they can get over it, because life can be such hell for them otherwise.

VY: So cognitive preparation can be helpful. What do you give them as homework the first week?
CM: Well, homework might be to monitor. The chunks of useful information for setting up treatment are the many things they avoid. Why? Because avoidance exposure is the opposite of avoidance. Anything they avoid doing is potential fodder for the exposure experiences. So they don’t touch doorknobs; they won’t eat off a fork that hasn’t been rubbed with a disinfectant wipe; they won’t shake hands with people; they won’t use public restrooms or touch any surfaces in a public restroom. All of the things they avoid doing become useful information to develop the exposure experiences. And on the other side of the coin, all of their compulsive behaviors—their washing, their separating clean things from dirty things, their asking for reassurance from others—all of those become the elements for response prevention. Those are the easy escapes, and we can’t have that during the course of the treatment, in order for it to be successful. So in the early stages of treatment, our goal is to get a wide array of potential exposure treatments, those things that they tend to avoid that ordinary folks don’t.
VY: So in the early stages of treatment, you first want them to be more aware of what they’re doing. And then you’re giving them some alternatives?
CM: You’re gathering information to become a collaborator in treatment. You’re saying, “You’re going to hate exposure. You’re probably a little nervous about it. But I’m going to help you understand why avoidance has been so detrimental to your life. You’ve worked so hard, but you’re more afraid than you’ve ever been about these things.”Originally they see the compulsions as the solution. “I’m going to avoid touching things that make me feel dirty. I’m going to do things that make me feel clean.” But soon they’re doing those things for hours and they feel more scared than ever.

VY: Okay. So the first week or two, what do you specifically give them to do as homework? Or tell them to do?
CM: There’s no one formula for how you start, how fast you move, and so forth. In fact, individually gearing it to the person, to their readiness, to the level of preparation they need and how much help they need with the exposures—these are all very important elements to ascertain before moving ahead with the treatment. And this is where the expertise of the practitioner comes in.We might do a more traditional once-a-week treatment, or an accelerated treatment where people come more than once a week. There may be in vivo components in or outside the office where they’re getting exposure to the stressor. We can have intensive treatment, where over a shorter period of time, let’s say a month, people are getting very intensive daily hours of treatment.

But the general thrust of early treatment is to gather the correct information to build a road map for the treatment. And that involves the patterns of avoidance, the patterns of rituals that are used, and so forth. Then we develop a hierarchy, which is the essential part of the roadmap. Which things produce very little discomfort, which things seem outrageously anxiety producing, etc. Then we bring them through the different stages. So as they learn at each stage that they won’t meet their demise, we lead them through increasingly more difficult exposures.

Hierarchy for a Hand Washer

VY: What would be a hierarchy for a hand washer?
CM: Early on I’d try to find something relatively easy to work with. So if a client feels safe in their bedroom but not safe touching the bedposts because her mom touches them when she changes the sheet, I’d ask her to rate her discomfort on a scale of 1 to 100. The name of the scale we use is “SUDS,” Subjective Units of Distress. So I’d ask how anxious the bedposts make her and she’d say, “just a little bit.”

Our job is to titrate the exposures so that they are manageable and doable, and to ensure that the person is gaining confidence that the powerful emotional response and the belief in the catastrophic consequences that they fear are both diminishing.

So I would ask, “Would you be willing to just come in contact with that bedpost, and see what the emotional experience is like? Is it going to be awful? Is it going to be reasonable? Can you forego the washing? If so, for how long?” We try to probe into how people actually react. Sometimes it worse than they think, and sometimes it’s easier than they think.

Our job is then to titrate the exposures so that they are manageable and doable, and to ensure that the person is gaining confidence that the powerful emotional response and the belief in the catastrophic consequences that they fear are both diminishing. That’s the only reason why a person would move forward and give up all their safety mechanisms and participate in treatment.

VY: Alright. So in the hierarchy, the bedpost might be relatively low. The refrigerator door might be higher and the faucet in a public restroom might be a lot higher than that.
CM: Right, and typically we start with some exposures in the office, where it’s a safer environment and they don’t have a history of a great deal of compulsivity. The therapist becomes kind of a guide and a confidante and a trusted companion on the journey.As we go, we learn more about how the nervous system reacts and what’s going on in the mind of the individual, and then we can apply cognitive therapy and wait for the habituation as the nervous system reaches it’s kind of asymptote, and then begins to decline. It’s a very interesting and powerful experience for individuals. “Wow. I don’t feel as nervous now. When I think about it, it kicks up a bit, but somehow it doesn’t bother me as much as it did before.”

We emphasize the techniques, but so much of it is the importance of the relationship—the confidence of the patient in their therapist and the therapist’s sure hand on the tiller.

So there’s a lot going on, as you can see. We emphasize the techniques, the exposure response information, but so much of it is the importance of the relationship—the confidence of the patient in their therapist and the therapist’s sure hand on the tiller.Just knowing that whatever comes up, we’re going to know how to deal with it. That’s why the experience and the special training helps. At some point along the way, we’ll touch on how a person might go about getting that additional training that enables them to be confident at whatever their previous kinds of approach to therapy might have been.

No Reassurance Allowed

VY: Let’s carry this through a little further. So in an ideal scenario, you graduate, move up the hierarchy. They may have a feared response but, if all goes well, they’ll find that if they wait a bit and, with repetition, and with reassurance and—
CM: Well, not reassurance so much. Reassurance is an escape mechanism. We might even say, “Who knows? You might get AIDS. I can’t promise you won’t. You know, things happen.” So we can’t reassure them too much in the process, or it can become a type of ritual in itself. We have to allow them to address the uncertainty of their situation.

Reassurance is one of those subtle kinds of variables in therapy for OCD that can easily be mishandled by a therapist who is unaware of the importance of facing uncertainty.

It’s a balancing act. In a certain way, preparing them cognitively is also reassuring them that we know what we’re doing, that they can overcome their problem. But we have to watch out for specific reassurance when their anxiety is up that is designed to reduce it. You see? It feels important to distinguish this because reassurance is one of those subtle kinds of variables in therapy for OCD that can easily be mishandled by a therapist who is unaware of the importance of facing uncertainty. We often reassure our patients in treatment, but with OCD, you have to be particularly careful or you’re just colluding in the compulsivity of that individual.

VY: Coinciding with the publication of this interview, we’re releasing two videos with Reid Wilson, whom you know, and he even takes it a little further than what you’re saying. His approach really emphasizes the lack of certainty—not only do they have to tolerate the uncertainty, but to welcome and invite it.
CM: Yeah. And that’s very important, dealing with uncertainty, because we don’t know everything about this world. Our patients often come to our office on the beltway. They know people die on the beltway. Are they certain that they’ll make it? That they’ll go home? That they’ll be alive when they get home? The answer is no, they’re not certain. I’m not certain. The reality of the world is that uncertainty is part of the picture.We don’t know what happens after we die. We don’t know if there’s a God that is so vindictive that one false move and we’re forever tortured in hell. We don’t know that for a fact. We have to help people live with realistic uncertainty. With kids, you have to be a little more careful. If a kid believes the number 3 is a bad number and if they eat three M&M’s their parents may die, you have to be a little careful about saying, “Your parents may die, we can’t know for sure.” How that’s handled is extremely important. There are certain people who are going to be much more ready to deal with that part early on, and others who have to be handled very carefully along the way.

But Reid and others of us who work in this way realize that reassurance is a way to help people feel safe, and we can’t do that. We have to expose them to the idea that it may not be safe, but that we have to live our life as if it were safe, the same way we do when we go on the highway, or we eat unknown food. The food may send our body into some convulsive shock, but we eat it because we are willing to accept some uncertainty.

VY: So, following the roadmap that you’ve laid out, they would progressively move towards behaviors that are higher on the hierarchy, and in a good case scenario, they would experience some anxiety, but over time it would diminish or eventually even go away entirely.
CM: In most cases, there are some remnants of OCD symptoms. However, it’s like a person who was once a drinker and now is abstaining—they have to be a little cautious, recognize the danger signs, know what to do. An alcoholic wouldn’t go hang out at a bar; somebody who used to be very overweight doesn’t go shopping when they’re hungry or keep Halloween candy around the house for weeks before Halloween. We teach people how to recognize OCD, how it works, and essentially how to become their own therapist.

We don’t have a lot of repeat customers with an OCD treatment. People go out there and, if properly treated, they should have skills that enable them to live a reasonable life.

We don’t have a lot of repeat customers with an OCD treatment. People go out there and, if properly treated, they should have skills that enable them to live a reasonable life. It is important to understand that there is a potential for people to totally overcome their OCD and live a life that’s free of those problems, but realistically speaking, we have to prepare people for the likelihood that they have to remain vigilant to a certain extent, and have to retain the skills necessary to remain functional and symptom-free as possible.

“You Actually Do That?”

VY: With all therapies, there are usually stumbles and hitches along the way—setbacks, relapses. What are some typical challenges therapists and clients face along the way of navigating that hierarchy?
CM: Well, sometimes people cut corners. They cheat a bit. They may succumb to their compulsion and end up washing and separating at some point during the week. So compliance is extremely important. And because we’re dealing with a very anxious group—and rightly so, they’ve lived a life that’s been drastically altered by their fears and beliefs—we have to prepare them for the importance of compliance with the therapy. So that’s one challenge: people who aren’t quite doing what they tell you they’re doing.

Therapy can be a bit odd. We ask people to do things that ordinary folks don’t do—you know, putting a cookie on a public restroom toilet and eating the cookie…

The other, as I mentioned earlier, is people’s families. Families can be a problem themselves. We have kids who we’re trying to wean from hand washings, and Grandma says, “You’re not coming to the table without washing your hands, are you? Go right over there and wash them and be sure and use soap.” Well, that’s a bit of a problem. That’s why it’s important to educate the family about what we’re up to and why we’re doing it. Because therapy can be a bit odd. We ask people to do things that ordinary folks don’t do—you know, putting a cookie on a public restroom toilet and eating the cookie. We don’t think it’s really going to kill us, but it’s a yucky, you know?

VY: You actually do that?
CM: Sure. Because we’re asking people to go far with this, so that when they leave treatment, it goes back to normal. If you just bring them up to almost normal, there’s a tendency to backslide. So we want to take them to some rather “notable experiences,” I’ll call them, “memorable experiences,” where they say, “Wow, I did that, and I survived. So I’m willing to live my life in a more ordinary way.”So we tell them along the way, “This is yucky. I don’t like doing this. I don’t like reaching into a dumpster and rubbing my face with garbage.” But part of the training is to understand that our own sensitivities mustn’t interfere with therapy. It’s important to get experience and training in this so that we really understand what we’re up against, what people are up against.

The stress of life can also undermine treatment. Whatever we’re trying to do—whether it’s exercise more or get along better with our co-workers—when we’re under stress, it’s easy to slip back into old behaviors. That’s why so much preparation goes into relapse prevention. The latter part of treatment is mostly about preparing people to be their own therapist, and creating a plan that they can follow through on for different expected moments of weakness or the recurrence of some feelings that were perhaps attenuated for a while but, for reasons unknown, come back with a vengeance.

VY: So what might be an example of a relapse prevention plan?
CM: Self-managed exposure and response prevention would be one example. Let’s say I have a fear of dust and dirt and I’ve been doing a lot better after treatment, but one day I notice dust on me and I start to worry. I think, “What would my therapist say? Well, he’d say, ‘Hey, it’s just dust. It’s probably not radioactive material!”
VY: It’s not anthrax.
CM: “So now what do I do? I go and intentionally take a little of that dust and perhaps put it on me, put it on my shirt, so that it makes me feel uncomfortable. It’s kind of foolish to do. No normal person would do that, but I understand I have to use the most powerful tools that anybody knows about to fight back against OCD. ERP—exposure response prevention.” So they do those kinds of things. Self-managed exposure response prevention. It’s very important.But if they’re having trouble, they may need to call up their therapist and say, “I need a booster session. I just took a step backward, I tried to handle it on my own, but I think I may need some help.” So we’ll plan a little systematic approach and a little mini-therapy session. Relapse prevention is preparation for the inevitable human failings, setbacks, weaknesses, and so forth.

VY: So even though it’s a fairly structured form of therapy and there is a lot of technique involved—a roadmap—there’s a lot of creativity involved as well.
CM: Absolutely. We learn from every patient. There are always new twists. The OCD is a product of the person’s own imagination and creativity, so everyone has their own twists and turns.

Training for Therapists

VY: From what I can gather, therapists who don’t have specific training in treating this and just kind of incorporate it into traditional talk therapy are unlikely to have effective results.
CM: Well, it depends on the case. Some cases are relatively simple and a highly motivated individual with a therapist who grasps things well enough not to make some of the common mistakes in treatment can do quite well. So it is possible to pick up a book about it—there are some good manuals out there that tell therapists how to do this as well as some good self-help books that therapists can use. It’s possible to be effective in some cases without extensive training.On the other hand, more difficult cases are challenging even to the most experienced therapists. There are going to be cases that are difficult to treat under any circumstances and that’s where more experience, more heads in on the treatment make a difference. Creativity and troubleshooting problems can be essential to moving smoothly through treatment. It rarely goes according to the cookbook, you know?

VY: If someone reading this interview wants to get more in-depth training, where would you suggest they go?
CM: An excellent place to get that is through the International Obsessive Compulsive Foundation’s Behavior Therapy Institute. It’s a wonderful three-day certificate program. It’s been developed over almost two decades, and provides excellent preparation for individuals who may never have had much experience, or any experience, with OCD. After the training there is follow-up guidance, supervision by phone—people can get really a huge jump in competence in treating OCD.It’s so important to develop more practitioners. As it is, there aren’t enough trained competent practitioners to deal with the large numbers of individuals with OCD. There are whole states where there are very few places to get competent treatment. Not only is it important from the standpoint of the sufferer, but for practitioners. This is an extremely rewarding area to work in.

We do get those Hollywood endings where people just shed their symptoms, hug the therapist, and walk out into a whole different kind of life.

We do get those Hollywood endings where people just shed their symptoms, hug the therapist, and walk out into a whole different kind of life. That isn’t so common with some of the problems we treat.

Just the fact that we’re there and we know what we’re doing ensures that we’re going to get lots of love from our patients, because they’ve often been through some harrowing times when they didn’t understand what was going on, when they got misguided advice from professionals; so when they finally feel that they’re getting competent treatment, there is very often a great deal of positive emotion generated by that alone.

And they pay their bills. The OCD persons are often achieving, smart, and conventional in many ways. So it’s very rewarding. Those of us who specialize in OCD treatment never get tired of it. I have almost 20 people in our center who love to treat OCD and get very excited about new cases that, while challenging, are teaching us new things every day.

VY: Do you treat other conditions as well?
CM: Well, once you treat OCD, you’re going to also be treating things under the broader OCD umbrella. There are many disorders that are now considered OC spectrum disorders—things like body dysmorphic disorder, where people perceive ugliness in themselves and are often very depressed and very distraught. Also hypochondriasis or health preoccupations—the person believes that every ache and pain is some deadly disease and bug their doctors to death, or do doctor shopping, looking for someone who will take them seriously.I already mentioned that we see a great deal of commonalities in Tourette’s and OCD. We also treat trichotillomania, hair pulling disorder, and excoriation disorder, skin picking and the picking of acne or the picking of skin around the body, fingers, toes, legs, scabs, mosquito bites. That just made it into the DSM-5, by the way.

VY: I understand there were some other changes in the DSM-V in terms of classifying some of these related disorders?
CM: Tic-related disorders are pulled into the mix. There’s now an identification for a subtype where tics and OCD appear within the same individual. We’ve conceptualized something called “Tourettic OCD” that’s very similar, but we don’t believe that its necessary for tics to be present for it to be Tourettic. It’s more that certain kinds of OCD are really discomfort-driven, rather than anxiety-driven, and therefore it’s similar in many ways to the experience of Tourette’s.Even Asperger’s syndrome, or what the DSM-V now calls Autism spectrum disorders— very often people are referred to us who say they have Asperger’s or they have pervasive developmental disabilities, but they also have OCD. Well, they may or may not. They may fit a sort of OCD configuration, but they may not be exactly OCD. They may have stereotypies, or they may have hyper-interests, where they just love everything about Pokemon or something. But it’s not OCD. These are more repetitively driven things. They’re not driven to do stuff because they feel very uncomfortable and frightened unless they do them. They do things because they just love to do those things.

VY: That’s an important distinction.
CM: It is, because a lot of things we call compulsive—some people love to shop or love to gamble or love to act out sexually—that doesn’t mean they’re obsessive compulsive. They’re exhibiting repetitive patterns of behavior, but the treatment’s quite different. If you treat OCD and identify it as treating OCD, you’ll eventually learn how to distinguish them from each other, and when it’s best to refer them out, in the case of something like internet addiction. People call up all the time saying, “My son is obsessed with the Internet. He plays videogames all the time. I understand you treat OCD.”“Well, yeah, we treat OCD, but that’s not OCD.” The importance of expertise is to be able to distinguish the subtle differences among some of the repetitive patterns of behavior that are often clumped and misidentified as OCD.

VY: Well I want to thank you for taking the time to share your wisdom and experience with us. You’ve gone into a lot of depth and, as is typically the case, though I’ve been in this field for quite a while, there’s always more to learn. I think our readers will have a similarly enriching experience and will be intrigued and interested in getting further training and expertise in treating OCD.
CM: I hope so. And I thank you for inviting me to participate here.