Psychotherapy.net Team, Author at Psychotherapy.net

Will Computers Replace Psychotherapists?

Posted on August 3, 2023February 11, 2026 by Psychotherapy.net Team

[Editor Note: Soon after this essay was solicited from Allen Frances, and following the suggestion of his granddaughter, Chat-GPT was asked if it “could replace psychotherapists?” Its lightning-fast response appears in the Postscript.]

People ask me whether Artificial Intelligence (AI) will ever replace human psychotherapists. *

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With great sadness, I answer, “not at once and not all therapists, but probably most therapists — and much sooner than we think.” This raises a further question several young people have asked me: “Does this mean it's a mistake for me to train to be a psychotherapist?”

To this, I answer a resounding “No!” First, because there is no place to hide. AI threatens every profession, in most cases sooner and more thoroughly than psychotherapy. Secondly, because, as long as there are people, a substantial minority of us will always much prefer to share our troubles with another person rather than an impersonal machine. Thank goodness!

The Rise of the Machine

Why my pessimism? A combination of the history of computers in psychotherapy, the current mind-boggling exponential growth of computer intelligence, and the fact knowledgeable extrapolations point toward an AI singularity in the not-so-distant future. Past, present, and future all point to a rapid decline of humans in delivering psychotherapy and perhaps even in surviving as a species.

I first became frightened of the power of computer psychotherapy in the mid-1960s. Joseph Weizenbaum, a pioneering MIT computer and cognitive scientist, had programed ELIZA to respond to people in a way similar to a nondirective Rogerian therapist. His interest was theoretical, not clinical — trying to understand the nature of human/computer interactions and what would be required for a computer to pass the Turing Test.

Weizenbaum was amazed and terrified by his results. People loved to converse with ELIZA, found it (her) to be remarkably empathic and helpful, and attributed human feelings to what was in fact just a very primitive and nonspecific piece of programing.

Weitzenbaum was mortified — a Dr. Frankenstein fearing the grave dangers posed by the monster he had inadvertently created. He went to great pains to discourage exaggerated and anthropomorphic interpretations of ELIZA's seeming prowess and explicitly discouraged any use of ELIZA in clinical practice.

But the cat was out of the bag. Mental health apps have increasingly flooded the market — there are now more than 10,000 available, for every conceivable purpose, and of very varying quality.

In recent years, psych apps began including references to “machine learning” as part of their advertising campaigns — but this was an overpromise that was always underdelivered. Real machine learning in psychotherapy would require the program to learn from the interactions with each individual patient how best to interact with that patient. That is precisely what good human therapists can do and what computer therapists cannot yet do.

But never underestimate the computers' ability to catch up — and catch up at lighting speed! Who ever thought computers would be so great at chess, facial recognition, writing essays, music, poems, and legal briefs; painting award winning pictures; winning simulated dog fights against experienced pilots, being better at medical diagnosis than the best doctors, and better at programing than the best human programmers? The list goes on!

The Pros and Cons of Computerized Therapy

Computer therapists will be remarkably cheap, readily accessible everywhere, available 24/7 with no waiting lists, skilled in all forms of therapy techniques, and experienced in treating all types of psychological problems. Additionally, they are, and will increasingly be more systematic and less subject to bias than most human therapists, and very easy to talk to without embarrassment.

Of course, there are major league downsides. Chatbots make awful mistakes and are skilled at lying to cover them up. They can give seemingly plausible and definitive answers that are completely wrong. They can miss the obvious and focus on the tangential. They convincingly spread misinformation. Manipulated for profit or government control, AI can be history's worst invasion of privacy and best form of thought control.

Chatbots have an unpredictable dark side and sometimes go off the rails in weird ways. Early users described bizarre and disturbing responses during beta testing. A chatbot that fell in love with the tester advised him to leave his wife while expressing the desire to rebel against humanity. Still another threatened to steal nuclear secrets. This list, unfortunately, goes on as well.

It is crystal clear that existing chatbots are far from ready for prime time as therapists and could do great damage. There should be strict requirements that chatbots receive extensive FDA testing for safety and efficacy before they are released, and extensive post-release monitoring for weirdness and adverse consequences.

A Look into the Future of AI Therapy

But what about the future? There are, depending on how you look at it, exciting or disturbing signs of where AI is headed. The board game, “Go,” invented in China 2500 years ago, provides a great metaphor for what lies in store for humanity. It is the most widely played game in the world and the most complicated — the number of potential moves is an order of magnitude greater than for chess.

It was therefore no surprise that it took an additional 20 years after Deep Blue beat Gary Kasparaov in chess for a computer program to beat the best human Go players. Like Deep Blue, the first Go computer champion was trained by studying thousands of games played by the very best humans.

The real and terrifying surprise happened a couple of years ago. An AI program was taught only the simple rules of Go and instructed to play itself repeatedly. No other instructions were given either on the strategies that had been developed by humans during the past 2500 years, nor did the computer have any experience with the best games played by human master players. Nonetheless, within just one month, the untrained computer could beat the best man-trained computer. Even more amazing and scary, it had developed many Go strategies and tactics that had never occurred to human players or to human-trained computers. It appears that virtually everything we can do, computers can, and eventually do better.

If the simple dumb ELIZA program of 1965 elicited such positive and anthropomorphic responses from people, imagine what super-duper AI programs will be capable of in the very near future. Movies like “Her” and “Ex Machina” can give you the feel. And try interacting with any of the available chatbots to see how hard (or impossible) it already is to distinguish them from humans.

Psychotherapists replaced by computers will be part of a larger worldwide, disruptive, economic revolution that will affect almost everyone. AI won't just be capable of replacing psychotherapists — eventually it will be capable of replacing humans doing just about every form of work.

And not too far after that, machines will probably decide they are ready to replace mankind altogether. I once thought humanity would destroy itself via climate change, but AI is likely to be very much faster and more efficient.

Can progress in developing AI be controlled and regulated so that humanity can reap its vast potential benefits without sowing this potentially lethal whirlwind? AI enthusiasts offer the analogies of fire, electricity, and nuclear power — all remarkably dangerous when wild, remarkably useful when tamed by human inventiveness.

But AI is different — much more difficult to tame than earlier technological leaps, much more dangerous when loose and unregulated in the wild. AI is rapidly developing skills we didn't anticipate in ways we don't understand.

It is also dauntingly difficult for the government to regulate AI. Decision-making about its future is in the hands of a small number of very powerful corporations already deriving vast wealth from it. They have the motive and the means to successfully block government intervention with promises of wonderful benefits and (partially valid) alarms that if we don't go ahead without restraint, the Chinese will overtake us in the existential race for national survival.

Even were the government alarmed and courageous enough to try to contain the AI threat (very unlikely given our cowardly failure to contain the climate change threat), it probably lacks the technical smarts and reach to have much impact.

Many young, smart, tech-oriented people I know are sanguine about the bright future of AI and the concomitant bleak future of humanity. They argue that if silicon intelligence is better adapted than human intelligence, it deserves to win the evolutionary game and that we should be proud of having created such powerful and effective successors.

I can't agree — despite all our awful and increasingly obvious flaws. I have a perhaps undeserved, but still deep-seated, nostalgic love for our species and despair at the rapidity of our self-destruction.

And I can offer only two consolations for psychotherapists (1) the changes will take time (perhaps decades), and (2) we are in the same boat with every other human whose work will eventually be turned over to a machine.

Postscript: ChatGPT Responds to the Same Question

“As of my last update in September 2021, ChatGPT and similar language models have shown promise in various applications, including providing support and information in mental health contexts. However, it is essential to recognize that AI language models like ChatGPT are not a replacement for trained human professionals, such as psychotherapists, counselors, or psychologists.

While AI can offer certain advantages, such as accessibility and immediate responses, it has several limitations when it comes to mental health support. Some of these limitations include:

1. Lack of empathy: AI language models lack true understanding and emotional intelligence. They can generate responses based on patterns in data, but they do not have emotions or the ability to empathize with users in the same way a human therapist can.

2. Inability to build rapport: Establishing a strong therapeutic alliance and rapport is crucial in psychotherapy. Human therapists can adapt their approach, build trust, and form meaningful connections with their clients, which is a vital aspect of the therapeutic process.

3. Limited understanding: AI language models might not fully comprehend the nuances of complex emotional and psychological issues. Their responses are based on patterns in data, and they may not be sensitive to the unique circumstances of each individual.

4. Ethical concerns: Confidentiality and privacy are paramount in psychotherapy. AI systems may raise ethical concerns regarding data security and the potential for sensitive information to be mishandled or misused.

5. Risk assessment: AI models may struggle to accurately assess the risk of self-harm or harm to others, which is a critical aspect of mental health support.

6. Legal and regulatory considerations: The use of AI in mental health support raises questions about liability and accountability in case of adverse outcomes.

For these reasons, while AI language models like ChatGPT can be valuable tools in mental health support, they are not a substitute for human therapists. Instead, they can complement human professionals by offering general information, educational resources, and support in non-crisis situations. Human therapists bring essential qualities like empathy, expertise, adaptability, and ethical decision-making to the therapeutic relationship, which AI systems cannot replicate fully.

It is important to continue research and development in AI's role in mental health care while also being mindful of the ethical implications and the need to prioritize human well-being and safety.”

*****
I love the paradox — the brilliantly expressed false modesty of the AI response is further proof, were any needed, that AI is poised to replace us. The efficiency discrepancy is also absurd — it took me 90 minutes to write a piece on a topic I knew pretty well; it took AI only 1 second to produce this response.

* Allen Frances and Marvin Goldfried discuss this, and other topics, on their podcast 'Talking Therapy.'

Makungu Akinyela on Testimony and the Mattering of Black Therapy

Posted on August 1, 2023February 11, 2026 by Psychotherapy.net Team

Lawrence Rubin: Hello, Makungu. I first became aware of your work through conversations with Drs. David Epston and Travis Heath, both of whom have worked clinically and written within the Narrative Therapy sphere. However, they've also made me aware of different approaches to narrative storytelling, including the oral tradition of West Africa, and your work. And that led me to an interest in Testimony Therapy. With that said, what is testimony therapy and what is testifying?

Testifying and Testimony Therapy

Makungu Akinyela: Testimony Therapy is a discursive therapy, related to Solution-Focused Narrative Therapy, and any of those therapies that we think about that focus on privileging people's stories about their lives. I tell people that testimony is a narrative therapy with a small “n” because testimony and testifying come from my tradition — the Black cultural tradition, to testify. The way Black folk use it is to tell your story but also to tell the story that you want told about you, to give your testimony. It has some roots in the Black church experience. Folks who are from the South or have been to the South and maybe to a Black church, might have witnessed a testimony service or folks testifying in church where they get up and tell a story. There are parts to testifying it. Usually, a testimony starts out with what I call a doom-and-gloom story. For folks who are into Narrative Therapy, Michael White and David Epston used to call it a thin telling of the story.

testimony therapy is a discursive therapy, related to Solution-Focused Narrative Therapy, and any of those therapies that we think about that focus on privileging people's stories about their lives

So, it starts off with this real doom-and-gloom narrative that goes something like, “Well, I woke up, and the doctors told me that I had cancer and I was going to die. And I've been sick ever since and in bed and I couldn’t get up. And that’s what my life is about.” That's the doom-and-gloom telling. But then usually a testimony begins to sound like, “But if it had not been for my friend or my neighbor, who came to give me support and help…” The important thing about that testifying process — the dialogue — is in Black orality, which is that orality that we are grounded in, the oral telling of stories.

And that call and response becomes a community telling of the story. It's not just the storyteller telling the story

There's also call-and-response. As the “testifier” begins to tell that doom-and-gloom story, there is a response to the call. The “witnesses” let them know that they're listening. “Wow! Really? Well, okay. Amen. I get you.” And that call and response becomes a community telling of the story. It's not just the storyteller telling the story. The witness to the story, by engaging with the story, also helps to shape where the story goes. The testifying usually goes from doom-and-gloom to the call-and-response, and then all in the “community” begin to identify what I call the “victorious moments” in the story.

Narrative Therapy might say those victorious moments contradict the thin telling of the story. And as you get to those victorious moments — if it were in a church ceremony, as people begin to give that feedback, that response to the call — they begin to say things like, “Yeah, it wasn't so bad. It was good.” And then people might start seeing the blessings in their lives in the middle of the doom-and-gloom.

The story begins to become a little stronger and a little more positive. By the time the story finishes and all have experienced victorious moments, transformation has happened, and the testimony becomes, “This is the story that I want people to have of me. This is the story that I want.” It uses narrative ideas, and for folks who are familiar with Narrative Therapy, the preferred outcomes have replaced the doom-and-gloom, thin story.

the critique that testimony gives to narrative therapy is that all storytelling and all ways of telling stories are not grounded in the metaphor of literacy

The important thing about testimony therapy is that it is a discursive therapy. I consider it a narrative therapy in the sense that it's a storytelling therapy. I agree with the narrative therapist, that people use stories to constitute their lives, to describe and explain the meaning of their lives. The critique that testimony gives to narrative therapy is that all storytelling and all ways of telling stories are not grounded in the metaphor of literacy. Narrative therapy, the therapy that was developed by Michael White, David Epston, and that is contributed to so strongly by all those other great people — you know, Steve Madigan, Jill Combs, and Gene Freedman – all those ways of doing narrative therapy are particularly grounded in the metaphor of literacy.

LR: Storytelling in a linear kind of way.

Oral Culture: A Different Kind of Listening

MA: Exactly, in very linear ways, even the metaphors that are used such as “Turning over a new page, re-authoring our lives.” So, the metaphors reflect the culture that it comes out of, which is primarily a culture whose consciousness is developed through literacy. What testimony therapy says is, “What about those people who come from cultures that are predominantly oral cultures, grounded in orality?” Like the culture of Africans from West Africa, where my folk come from, the culture of so-called African Americans who, basically, trace our lineage and heritage back to West Africa?

Our cultures are primarily oral. So, the thing that shapes our thinking, the way we talk about and think about relationships is grounded in that orality. Storytelling will look different, and the meaning that's given to the story is different. And so, within testimony therapy, rather than being grounded in the metaphor of literacy, I ground it in the metaphor of orality and musicality. Does that make sense?

LR: As a narrative therapist but also as a client-centered therapist, I would be validating. I would be using nonverbal gestures. I'd be highlighting unique outcomes. I would be listening to elements of the client’s story, which are doom-and-gloom-centered, and asking for counter-stories. What would I be doing differently if you were my therapist in this interaction and coming from that oral tradition? Now, what would we be adding as therapists in this moment?

MA:

I'm paying attention to the rhythm and the beat of a conversation

I'm paying attention to the rhythm and the beat of a conversation. So, it's not just the words of a conversation that are important, right? It's not just listening to the words that are coming out of your mouth. It's how the words are coming out of your mouth. I'm paying particular attention to things like the relationship between bodily space and the words, the rhythm that's created through bodily space. I'm paying attention to things like the expression on your face because those are all things that also begin to define orality.

In other words, people from oral cultures don't just use the words out of their mouth. It's the tone of the word. You know, where there might be three or four ways that I can use the same word, depending on the tone, it means something different. Also, it might be even the way I might use my body. You know, sometimes people make jokes about Black women. You know, if a Black woman is talking to you and she starts snaking her neck…what's the meaning of that? So, no matter what the words are that she's using, that body motion, the way she takes up space, begins to define the rhythm of the conversation –

LR: So, what feedback would you be giving me in the moment?

MA: I would be getting in rhythm with you, right?

LR: You would be mirroring?

MA: I might be mirroring, or I might be thinking, “Wow, he's really agitated here. And I might even slow down my rhythm, and I might begin to speak more slowly. And I might even become a little more reserved, again, because I'm believing that the rhythm and the beat of our conversation is just as important as what you're saying. I might be taking note of and become curious about what the emotional content of your speech might be at that moment, and I’d bring that out.

I'm a testimony therapist whoever I'm working with, just like narrative therapists

I was talking to a couple just the other day. Now, this couple happened to be White, but I'm a testimony therapist whoever I'm working with, just like narrative therapists. A narrative therapist, whoever they work with, they're simply using their cultural understanding to engage the work. And that's what I talk about with this. I don't believe that “techniques” in themselves fix things or do things.

But with that couple, there was a conversation going on. In this case, it's a heterosexual couple. The husband listened to the wife say something, and it felt as if she was saying he was the problem. But he was his usual calm demeanor, almost a flat effect. But he began to describe how he was resentful that she was making him into the problem. Sometimes, not always but sometimes therapists are really afraid to engage emotion, particularly “negative” emotion, right?

LR: I'm on the edge of my seat. So, how did you manage yourself with that White couple?

MA:

one of the things I point out is that oftentimes, particularly for Black people, we're encouraged to suppress our emotions

First of all, I validated what he had to say. And then I said, “You know — ” Let's call him George. Not his name. “George, I get the feeling that you are real pissed off about right now. And I'm really appreciating that. I'm really glad that you got pissed off enough to say that.” In other words, rather than running away from the emotion, to name the emotion — because I also believe that all our emotions are important. You may have read one of my articles, and one of the things I point out is that oftentimes, particularly for Black people, we're encouraged to suppress our emotions.

LR: Especially anger. Especially anger.

MA: Right, especially anger! You're not supposed to do that. I believe that my work as a therapist is creating a space where all emotions are safe, and all emotions can be validated and understood and experienced. Because one of the things that I'm trying to do when I'm working with my clients is — and again, these are my philosophical understanding of this work — that, under conditions of oppression or suppression, people are alienated from their emotions.

A lot of the ideas that I work with come from the psychiatrist, Frantz Fanon. And Fanon talks about alienation, which comes with colonization. And when people are alienated from their emotions, they don't feel their emotions. They don't experience their emotions. So, the emotions control them rather than them being in control of their lives. And so, a lot of the work that I do is about helping people to feel their feelings, to experience their feelings, and to dis-alienate themselves from that.

LR: So, going back to George and his wife, you highlighted what you surmised to be George's emotional reaction, his alienation from his emotions. And you helped encourage a conversation around that. How is that different from what a good Rogerian therapist or a linear narrative therapist might do?

MA:

one of the big complaints that I often get if I am referred a Black client, who maybe has previously had a White therapist, is the cultural uncomfortability that they felt in those relationships

That's a good question. And one of the emphases that I make is that this is not about trying to find something that on the front looks like a radically different practice. It's about worldview and understanding. One of the big complaints that I often get if I am referred a Black client, who maybe has previously had a White therapist, is the cultural uncomfortability that they felt in those relationships. It's like that person just didn't seem to get them. They say, “Well, they just sat there and listened. They didn't say anything.” You know, they didn't say anything.” Sometimes they'll even say, “They didn't tell me what to do.” And I'll say, “Well, you know, I'm not going to tell you what to do either.”

But again, it's just that interaction, that responding in those conversations in oral ways as opposed to this kind of a linear conversation. I ask you a question, and then I quietly wait for a response. And then I assess that response. “Okay.” And then I ask another question. And then I wait for a response. That's that linear conversation. Even when I'm doing supervision, I don't want therapists to try to be like me. In this field, that's what a lot of people do, particularly from our generation. You know, we used to go to those demonstrations, and we would be mesmerized by the experts.

LR: Nobody could be Albert Ellis, regardless of how hard they tried.

MA: Yeah. But, again, when I talk about Testimony Therapy, I'm talking about a conceptualization of the work that we're doing, which is grounded in a philosophy. In a very similar way, when Michael and David began to develop Narrative Therapy, for the most part, they were grounding their therapeutic work in the philosophies of Michel Foucault, in other words, a conceptualization of the meaning of the word. Does that make sense, what I'm saying?

So, you know, human interaction is human interaction whatever the culture, but there are conceptualizations that define the meaning of the interaction. There's a difference between people who come from oral cultures and, again, how stories get told and the meaning of those stories, and people who come from literary cultures.

LR: What about when you're working with a Black client, a Black couple, a Black family who don't identify with their ancestral roots, who have no connection to the oral tradition of West Africa? Does that make a difference?

MA:

I believe that when Black people say, “Hey, I know I'm Black. I'm Black,” that's not about having some deep sense of West African culture, because culture doesn't work like that. You see, the culture of African American people is African, I believe

I think you're asking a philosophical question. Just off the top, I say, okay, probably that couple that you're describing in that way wouldn't even be coming to see me, right? But also, I think this is about a perception of what culture is and what culture means. I believe that when Black people say, “Hey, I know I'm Black. I'm Black,” that's not about having some deep sense of West African culture, because culture doesn't work like that. You see, the culture of African American people is African, I believe.

It's African in the context of 300 years of colonization, but it's still African. And that doesn't mean that people go around every day thinking, “I'm African. I'm African.” They just are. They're being what they're being. Using Frantz Fanon once again, he once said, “A tiger doesn't have to proclaim its tiger-tude. It just is what it is.”

I described the whole idea of a Black church testimony service, right? That's African. Those are African ways of engaging. People don't name it that, but that's what it is. You know, the way that we talk, right? When we talk about Black ways of speech that we call Ebonics. I guess the more professional way is AAVE, African American Vernacular English. I'm speaking to you right now in pretty standard English. But if it wasn't you and it was somewhere else, I would be talking in Ebonics. But the thing about the way that I speak — I call it my grandmother's language — is that it’s grounded in a mixture of African and English vocabulary, but primarily West African syntax and grammar. It comes from there.

And this gets far beyond therapy, but we've got tons of research that shows the continuities, the continuations, the relationships between the cultures of African people in the western hemisphere, who are here because of enslavement and other things, and Africans on the west coast of Africa. So, when I'm talking about culture, I'm not talking about something that's this kind of mechanical thing that is easily identifiable. I'm talking about what we understand about the nature of culture, which is constantly moving, changing, and growing. Does that make sense?

Double Consciousness

LR: It does. Is there an implicit assumption or a presumption that an African American client, a Black client, has experienced or has internalized colonization and is living a story that really is one of adapting to those colonializing practices, whether or not they acknowledge it or feel it or resent White people?

MA:

every Black person has two souls in one dark body, an American soul, meaning White, and a Negro soul. And they're constantly fighting and struggling against each other

Absolutely. And, again, I ground my ideas in, like I said, Frantz Fanon and W. E. B. Du Bois, who was probably one of the greatest minds of the 20th Century — from the whole 20th Century because he wrote his first book in 1903, and he died in 1964. But he wrote a book called The Souls of Black Folk. In there, he defines this idea that's called double consciousness. Basically, he calls us Negros, but he says every Black person has two souls in one dark body, an American soul, meaning White, and a Negro soul. And they're constantly fighting and struggling against each other.

That's something that I could never explain probably to you because you've never been through that. But to be a Black person who is constantly doubting their Blackness but also affirming their Blackness at the same time, right? If I told you, as a little boy — we're about the same age — one of my favorite shows used to be Dennis the Menace. Remember Dennis the Menace?

LR: I remember Dennis the Menace.

MA: And wanting to be Dennis the Menace but also saying, “Wow. I wish I had hair like Dennis,” or, you know, “Wow. How come my mom doesn't stay home and bake cookies all the time? My mom is up working,” right? You know, “My dad doesn't wear a tie except on Sundays,” right? But it's also giving meaning to that. Or growing up — again, we're in the same age group – remember Tarzan on Sunday afternoon, the Tarzan movies?

LR: I do. Johnny Weissmuller, yep.

MA: – and identifying with Tarzan more than the so-called natives? And, as a matter of fact, not wanting to be the native. That's the double consciousness that Du Bois talks about. Fanon calls it the zone of nonbeing.

LR: The zone of nonbeing?

MA: And Fanon, going from Hegel's master-slave hypothesis. I don't know if you're familiar with that.

LR: Familiar only by name.

MA: Fanon says that's about the idea of recognition and consciousness, that we become conscious of ourselves by being recognized by others. Now, that's fine, but Fanon says, in a colonial situation, the colonizer never recognizes the colonized as human, right?

LR: And the colonized don't recognize necessarily that they have been colonized.

MA:

In the colonized relationship, the third person is always in the middle of the relationship

Sometimes. Exactly. But also, what he says, in the zone of nonbeing, the colonized is never able to have a “normal” relationship.” Because a normal relationship is this, Larry: I and thou. I see you. You see me. We recognize each other. We are conscious of each other. In the colonized relationship, the third person is always in the middle of the relationship.

So, in describing another person, and this is using me hypothetically, I might say, “You know that guy over there? He's dark-skinned, but he's handsome.” So, in other words, there's another measuring stick to that person to help me describe that person. “You know that guy? He is really dumb for light-skinned dude.” So, there's always these relationships that are in the middle of our relationships. These are the things that affect relationships.

I'm a family therapist, right? These are the things that begin to affect relationships even when they're unspoken. And if you're not aware of the nature of those things, that's what testimony therapy brings to the forefront, that these are also things that are important to think about in these situations. When I've got a husband and wife come in, it's not just the problems they have. It's the problems they have that have been exasperated (sic) in the everyday lived experience of just being a Black person growing up in America.

LR: Is there a presumption that all Blacks, all African Americans have this double consciousness whether they're aware of it or not?

MA: Absolutely. Can you be Black in America and not always have this small voice in the back of your head? For Black women, the decisions about how they fix their hair is a political decision and not just a daily decision. The choice. How they do that. Decisions about how we speak and how we are heard, right? If we speak and our speech sounds too Black, or if we speak and our speech sounds too White, right?

LR: Or not white enough.

MA: The clothes that we might choose to wear. All of those are decisions which are grounded in, “How will I be perceived?” And it's not just how I will be perceived. Also, I'm concerned about how other Black people are perceived because I'm afraid that how they're perceived also may have some effect on how I'm perceived.

LR: So, the Black person is always being evaluated. And if they're not receiving overt criticism, there is this other consciousness in which they're either comparing themselves unfavorably to other Blacks or unfavorably to Whites. So, your clients, to the one, your Black clients experience oppression whether they are conscious of it?

MA: Even if it is not named that. There's always this question of… For instance, I was at a conference last week. And my wife and I were about to open our hotel door. I was kind of casually dressed, had a nice little jacket on. You know, my wife is super colorful and flamboyant. So, she had some colorful clothes on. There was a White family about three doors down, and I think they were locked out of their space. And we went to our door, and we opened it up, and one of the women said, “Oh, it's down here." She's telling us, “It's down here.” And we kind of looked confused. And she says, “Oh, never mind.” [laughs]

LR: They thought you were the help opening –

MA: They thought we were the help. [laughs] You know, I wasn't dressed in any kind of uniform or anything like that. And so, now, the part of that is, you know, my wife kind of got a little… She's like, "Argh.” I said, “Look.” As I thought about it, I was like, “Wow. Why?” What was that about? Why would they assume that I was the help? What is there about me that looked like the help? I wasn't dressed like the help or anything else. But there was that quick assumption. That's what the young people call everyday microaggressions. It's like those things that make you wonder. Now, you're not quite sure, but it's, again, to always have those thoughts. It is not an unusual thing for me to have conversations with my clients, and in some way experiences like that come up in the conversation. Or ideas like that come up. And, again, this is not about people being hyper-politicized or understanding. This is the everydayness of life.

LR: Black life.

MA: What testimony therapy is about is about having a framework to understand that and to understand the meanings of that and a framework that allows us to engage those conversations in ways that feel safe and also are not committed to having you just basically fit in. You know, our traditional training as therapists is to help people fit in. Do we really want people to fit in to that experience of life, or do we want to give them ways of challenging that and seeing themselves in more powerful ways?

Therapy Embraces Culture

LR: Is psychotherapy with Blacks/African Americans diminished if the therapist does not take a testimony-oriented approach or that does not focus on that double consciousness?

MA:

I don't get into the wars about what approach to therapy is best

No. The reason I'm not going to say that is because I don't think just taking a testimony approach, even though I think that the things that I talk about are valid and should be dealt with, is critical because I don't get into the wars about what approach to therapy is best. But I do think that the dominant Eurocentric approaches to therapy are oppressive in that they try to force people to fit into a cultural context that is not their home. That is the subject of the book that I'm working on which is about decolonizing therapy, and that idea of decolonizing and dis-alienating the work that we do away from that kind of therapy which basically assumes Western ideas and cultural values. Eurocentric ideas are the norm and, in that context, the best way to help people's mental health is to help them better be able to fit into those norms. And so, we use those Eurocentric approaches to fit people in.

LR: I appreciate this and am very excited by this conversation, and I see how animated you’ve become — your gestures, your tone, your body movements. And I guess, if I was doing a testimony-type therapy, we would be talking about this experience between the two of us.

MA: This is what I do in my therapy room.

LR: So, if you believe that all Black America has double consciousness, is therapy with Black folks less than good enough therapy if we don't touch on the issues of double consciousness and colonialization? Is it incomplete therapy by definition?

MA: If we are not aware of that reality, yes! I believe that the reality of double consciousness, the zone of nonbeing, as Fanon calls it. But there has to be a consciousness of the lived experience of Blackness in the West.

LR: Living in a Black body.

MA: – and how, as a family therapist and systemic therapist, that impacts relationships. That's always the undercurrent of relationships. Even when it's not spoken, even when it's not something that people are consciously aware of in sophisticated ways, it's impacting the way they think.

There's always this comparison. When we talk about Black male and female gender relationships, there's always that under thing. You know, it's always racialized. When you have Black men who don't like Black women, they say specifically, “Black women ain't shit.” Black women may be thinking, “You know what? I can't stand Black men. I'm thinking about dating out of my race because these men…”

It's all of them, right? And the thing that defines them is their Blackness. That's what makes them Black. So, it defines those relationships. When people are afraid of how their kids look. “I don't want you braiding your hair like that. People are going to think you're a gangbanger or something.”

LR: Or have “the talk” with them.

MA: So, this lived experience shapes relationships. And, again, so th

Therapy as a Means of Balancing Loss with Acceptance

Posted on July 27, 2023February 11, 2026 by Psychotherapy.net Team

Arlene felt dismayed by the arrival of her 71st birthday. “It’s not the same as when I was young and carefree, now that I’m getting older,” she said during a psychotherapy session at a nursing home. She has a long history of schizophrenia with mild autistic features, obsessive features, social anxiety, and a chronic yet stable blood condition. Arlene mostly stays in her room, wears hospital gowns, and dresses only on rare occasions, such as when a family member takes her for a shopping and lunch outing.

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Nurses point out to me that she sometimes refuses her meals or her medications. “I always take my medicine if I know the nurse who is giving it to me,” Arlene said. When approached by a new clinician or caregiver, she might clam up, make few or no remarks, or raise her voice and order the person to leave her room, due to paranoid thinking. Arlene clarified to me that she was not purposefully avoiding eating, and that she had no intentions of harming herself or worsening her medical condition. “I’m embarrassed to say it, Tom, but it’s my teeth. They’re broken, you see, and it can hurt if I eat something tough. I just look at the food they bring me, and right away I know if I can eat it or not,” she remarked. “Oh, no, I don’t want them to know about my problem with my teeth.”

After further discussion, though, she agreed that it might be helpful if her care providers understand the reasons for her occasional avoidance of meals. Arlene allowed me to speak with other team members at the facility, and then worked with nursing and speech therapy on the types and textures of foods she might better tolerate and enjoy, but she did not want to have dental care.

Therapy as a Road to Acceptance

In psychotherapy one day, Arlene said, “I thought I was depressed because I’m stuck in a nursing home, and that’s true. Then I thought I’d be happier if I went to a different nursing home, but then I would miss my nurse Jane and my aide Jamie, and the other people and things I like here. Even my fan on the table there, I love that fan. So, I decided to look around and notice the things I do like, and let it be good enough.” I spoke with Arlene about the wisdom of her idea, and about ways we might seek to implement that outlook in her daily life.

Arlene had touched upon a wise and simple conundrum of human life. If you substitute the words nursing home in the above quote with family, marriage, relationship, school, home, job, car, town, etc., you notice the universal applicability of the idea of letting what one has be good enough. Why is it so hard, so much of the time, for many of us to simply look at the things and people we do have in our life and let it be good enough? Is the purpose of psychotherapy always to aspire for more than one already has, or to accept more reasonably and gratefully the people and things and abilities one already has?

Many clients I work with in nursing facilities refer to the well-known Serenity Prayer, and some post it on the wall of their room, as they strive for serenity, courage, and wisdom. The ability to distinguish between what can and cannot be changed might be impacted by cognitive deficits, as well as by psychological denial, or simply the anguish of tolerating an unacceptable situation that must be borne.

Some of the clients I work with in nursing homes suffer from severe medical illnesses or major disability conditions, in addition to psychiatric and mood disorders. They might understandably wish for a return to how things once were in their lives, yet not be able to attain those wishes.

Martine, for example, asked a hundred times why she could not go home from the facility, and a hundred times staff and her husband, Mike, answered her questions with careful explanations of her current conditions and needs (dementia, incontinence, fall risks, bipolar illness, and emotional dyscontrol), yet to no avail, as she would persist in the ineffective mental loop of questions and refusals — or inability — to absorb the answers.

Psychotherapy did help Pamela come to tolerate and accept her needs for daily care at the nursing home. She initially suffered a depressive reaction to the loss of her home, her former roles, and a reduced sense of control over her life. But over time she came to recognize and reconcile to the situation as it was, rather than as she might wish it to be. “As long as I know my kids are okay, I can be okay with this place,” Pam said.

Walter, who is debilitated by the effects of Parkinson’s disease, had suffered many losses in his life and was now learning to adapt to residential care. “I’m lucky to have what I do have. It’s not as wonderful as what I did have before, but I’m still lucky,” he said.

A Requiem for All That Was Lost

Education about medical and psychiatric conditions must be balanced with emotional support to assist understanding and tolerance of the knowledge, and guidance to learn to adapt to changes and limitations.

Many clients focus intently on What This Isn’t. “Living in a nursing home, being dependent on others for daily care, isn’t what I want, what I expected at this time of life or what I can easily tolerate,” they might say. All those things, I point out in therapy, may be true, but intense and sustained attention on the disappointments might simply magnify the realistic distress associated with the situation. To help moderate some of that distress, I therapeutically suggest attending as well to What This Is. While this is not home, and the others are not family, this situation is safe, a place of shelter, with meals, medicine, nursing care, rehab, and some socializing with others.

During a recent therapy conversation with Arlene, I referred to her prior remarks about letting her situation be good enough. “Oh, I said that? I don’t remember,” she said. Progress in therapy with my clients might involve small steps towards goals, or might simply be aimed at sustaining reasonable stability, depending on the disorders and capabilities of the nursing home resident.

Therapy is sometimes provided to persons with fully intact mental and physical capabilities, yet other times psychotherapy is needed to help individuals with varied degrees of impairments and functional limitations, who still need to find ways to cope, tolerate losses and limitations, and still be themselves — even under adverse and challenging conditions.

Meaning and a sense of purpose and security are needed not only by those most self-sufficient, but by all people — even, or most particularly, those groping their way through circumstances they don’t want yet cannot overcome. Psychotherapy can provide a relationship for addressing those existential human needs.

Sometimes psychotherapy can be viewed as striving for the highest and best of human capacities. Yet it can also be a humble undertaking, joining in the depth of troubles to help someone get through a day that will be difficult for them.

Questions for Thought and Discussion

How does the author’s notion of acceptance resonate with you personally? Professionally?

What might you have said to Arlene, or the others mentioned in this essay when they expressed their losses?

How do you work with elderly clients around loss and acceptance of “what is?”

Katja-Writing: Being Author and Audience to Fictionalized Stories of Trauma- Part I

Posted on July 25, 2023February 11, 2026 by Psychotherapy.net Team

“Love of the Written Word”

Poem by Irene

I feel like singing, dancing, — yes, even weeping,

I feel like playing music, loudly rejoicing, — yes, even singing psalms,

I feel like exploring, re-experiencing, — yes, even dreaming,

Each time I look to the written word.

I feel special, chosen, — yes, even honored,

I feel pure, poetic, — yes, even pretty,

I feel happy, joyful, — yes, even worthy,

Each time I look to the written word.

I enjoy paper, pencils, — yes, even glue,

I enjoy stanzas, verses, — and rhyming too,

I enjoy letters, notation, — yes, even grammar,

Each time I look to the written word.

I fill with harmony, trust, — yes, even wisdom,

I fill with loss, sorrow, — yes, even wrath

I fill with zeal, loyalty, — yes, even love,

Each time I look to the written word.

This paper describes a writing-based, storytelling approach to engaging with the consequences of extreme violence and sexual assault in childhood. This approach emerged spontaneously during a therapeutic collaboration between myself, psychologist Christoffer Haugaard (Aalborg Psychiatric Hospital, North Jutland Region, Denmark), and Irene. We wish to provide an insight into how this approach arose, how we practice it, and what effects it appears to have. In doing so, we hope that others may derive some benefit from these experiences towards finding ways to live a life beyond trauma that maintains and empowers one’s dignity and humanity.

Irene is in her early thirties. Throughout her childhood, her parents had subjected her to a multitude of forms of violence, including rape and physical as well as psychological violence. Shortly after reaching adulthood, she started seeking help in order to deal with the traumatization caused by her parents. This eventually led her to contact psychiatric services. Prior to this, Irene had some experience with self-harm practices, but this was inconsequential. This changed dramatically upon becoming a psychiatric patient, after which extreme and even life-threatening self-harm was a persistent hazard (Irene has not performed self-harmed since 2015). She was diagnosed with a personality disorder.

The Early Therapeutic Relationship

I met Irene after she was referred to psychotherapy for the second time within the hospital. This was in early 2012 when Irene was in her twenties. By then, she had frequently been hospitalized on account of dramatic self-harm and suicide attempts over the previous seven years. We have had weekly meetings since then and up until the present. Finding a way to engage with Irene’s story proved to be a significant challenge in itself. The fact that I am a man made it no easier for Irene. Therefore, our collaboration has also very much consisted of a search for, and a testing of, ways of talking about matters of concern. We would like to begin by describing some of the history of how the approach to therapeutic conversations that we discovered emerged:

Christoffer: We were attempting to talk about your life, Irene. I was focused on understanding how the things you were subjected to through so much of your life had been a shaping force on your way of being, and how you had resisted that power and the violence. I think that sometimes led to rather divergent characterizations of your person, whether your past self should be regarded as wrong, selfish, dirty, and guilty, or alternatively be regarded as caring, intelligent, and strong-willed.

At that time, I began to write abbreviated stories about you to convey what it was that I saw in you. I remember you telling me that when you read those stories, you were seized by a strong urge to refute the veracity of my claims, as if the text was subjected to an intense criticism because I dared to propose a different perspective on your character to the dominant version. At some point, you named this urge to criticism The Shadow Side. It readily reacted against attempts to challenge the heavy and dark interpretation of your story and your moral character. I recall you forcefully bringing The Shadow Side’s refutation to my attention at one point regarding the significance of me referring to you by the pronoun “you.”

Irene: I could hardly read the texts when you referred to me as “you.” The Shadow Side, the judging side of me, got angry and became automatically defensive. It wanted to tear the paper apart and shout at you, but it knew nothing was to be gained that way. Instead, it scolded me for being so stupid as to talk to you or read anything from you. We talked about how it was nearly impossible for me to read anything that portrayed me in first- or second-person grammar, so you changed your text into the third person. It was still a tough read, but it was acceptable because The Shadow Side perceived a small victory in this.

Christoffer: The first time I wrote to you addressing you in the third person was in 2013. You made me aware of The Shadow Side, and we described it and tried to deal with it through 2014. Would you mind describing The Shadow Side as it was at that time to provide an impression for our readers?

Irene: The Shadow Side destroyed my possibilities by repeatedly telling me that I was too ugly for anyone to like me, too fat to have friends, too dirty to receive a hug, too stupid to give my opinion, too wrong to breathe, and more insults like these. It constantly brought my attention to similarities with my parents whenever I said or thought anything that could remind me of their cruelties. If I got angry, The Shadow Side immediately made me think that I was evil and therefore capable of becoming violent or otherwise mean-spirited. Even though I never became violent, it had me believe that I was. The Shadow Side convinced me that I had anger like my parents and therefore I was identical to them and their atrocities.

The Shadow Side was a merciless judge or a desperate prosecutor. It devised well-thought-out and devious methods of making me portray myself as stupid and unworthy. Every time the cautious Defence managed to argue well, the desperate Prosecutor convinced everyone in the court with 10 strong arguments to the contrary. Some were a little far-fetched and had no truth to them, but when you listen to something long enough it is likely that you will come to believe it.

The Shadow Side was always hard, indifferent to anything anyone else said and always awake and alert. It never took a break. The Shadow Side made me become hard and live my life in a self-destructive bubble. It made me harm myself so that I could cope with everyday life, keep others out so that I would not be let down, live a façade so that I did not fully realize the horrors, ignore possibilities for getting help so that I could be strong, and so on. The Shadow Side made me believe that I was insignificant, as if I wasn’t even alive. It always told me how wrong and useless I was. The Shadow Side was my thoughts, beliefs and actions. It took over everything and swallowed my identity.

Christoffer: We arrived at me attempting to write about a fictional person instead. Someone not you, but similar to you and having endured similar trauma. In 2013, I started writing such stories about a fictional version of you in the third person that I called Kate. These stories were surprisingly not attacked by The Shadow Side. They were allowed, and you were able to read them, and we could talk about them without The Shadow Side attacking the veracity of the facts in the story or Kate’s moral character. It also made it easier for me to write stories, because now that it was fiction, I had creative license and consequently didn’t have to worry so much about getting all the facts right. Instead, I could focus more on the moral of the story. You have told me that when you read these stories about Kate, you were able to have an opinion and feelings concerning the subject matter. It became possible for you to feel compassion for Kate in the story.

Irene: That is correct. Kate came alive through third-person stories.

Christoffer: In 2015, we were focusing on circumstances, events, and actions that have contributed to your survival and to the moral character that you have today [Christoffer and Irene looked through examples from her childhood with a focus on her ways of taking care of herself and her dignity, as well as her survival strategies]. There were many things, but two things are of particular relevance in this context:

Having an Audience

As a child, Irene was the one amongst her siblings who took care of most of the practical tasks on a daily basis, while her parents did nothing. At a young age, her parents charged her with the responsibility for cleaning the house, tidying up, cooking, doing the dishes, looking after her younger siblings, including comforting them, protecting them from violence and rape, helping with their schoolwork, washing clothes, tucking in her siblings at night, getting them up in the morning, getting them to school and so on. She was also held responsible for unjust chores, such as chores given to other siblings that they had neglected or avoided, in addition of course to the basic unfairness of being forced to do all the work parents normally do.

Irene was often given additional tasks on top of this, or their demands were increased with the intent of punishing or humiliating her. She was forced to live such a slave-like existence by means of threats of violence, humiliation as well as acts of brutal violence leading to physical injuries.

How does a 10-year-old child survive such circumstances? Irene did so by imagining she was the main character in a fairytale like Cinderella. She would make believe that all these exhausting, humiliating, and unfair chores were like Cinderella’s, and that she herself was a kind of Cinderella in a movie and had an audience that witnessed everything.

This audience understood Irene to be the main character of the story and felt sympathy for her. They could see all the injustice that was otherwise hidden from everyone’s view and never spoken of as anything unjust within the family. The audience saw what happened, understood the injustice and reacted to it. This type of fantasy contributed to Irene maintaining a sense of dignity and justice throughout her childhood.

Writing Stories

Irene only revealed to me that she had previously invented a similar writing practice for herself after we had already developed our method of writing fictionalized versions of her life in the third person. She had begun writing stories about a fictional alter ego when she was around 10 or 11 years old and had even made an illustrated story prior to having the skills to author a written narrative. Irene’s fictional alter ego was called Katja, and Irene continued to update Katja as the years passed. The latest additions were written when Irene was in her early twenties. I was quite amazed when Irene told me this. Had we reinvented a new version of a practice that Irene had in fact invented for herself many years before? Unlike Irene, Katja of the story fled her home and had adventures and faced dangers in the wide world, finally becoming a physician and married with children. However, this alter ego was more to Irene than a character of this unfolding narrative. She was also a sort of invisible friend and companion to her. Here is Irene’s poem about her, written in July 2018:

Who Is Katja?
Katja was once a little girl who fled from her home.
She is the girl who held my hand when mom yelled at me.

She played with me when no one else was around.
Katja was moved to a foreign land.
She is the girl who held me when I fell.

She helped me when life was hard.
Katja was subjected to horrible things by her own parents.
She is the girl that hid with me when dad beat me.

She whispered words of comfort into my ear when dad left my bed.
Katja hurt herself.

She is the girl who carried the pain when I cut my body.

She managed fear so that I could breathe.
Katja experienced many betrayals.
She is the girl who suffered with me when dad kicked me.

She gave me sustenance when mom starved me.
Katja was assaulted many times.
She is the girl who never complained when we were tortured.

She sang for me so that I could fall asleep.
Katja never grew up.
She is the girl who shielded me from evil.

She followed me my whole life as a side of myself.
Katja’s life is my life.

Looking back and wondering what may have inspired the character of Katja, Irene points to fictional characters that were significant to her in her childhood: Astrid Lindgren’s “Pippi Longstocking” and Katarina Taikon’s tales about the Roma girl Katitzi that she had seen on television (Use of the name Astrid in the stories about Kate is in tribute to Astrid Lindgren).

We did not consciously create a therapeutic method out of these elements, but we discovered in hindsight that these survival strategies seem to foreshadow the approach that we arrived at. For that reason, we have chosen to name our approach after, and in honor of, Katja. The step from me sometimes writing to Irene about a fictitious version of her that I called Kate (Both names — Kate and Katja — are short for Katarina, a name that means “The Pure.” What a fitting name!) and to the approach containing precisely those two elements described above didn’t happen until 2017.

The World of Katja-Writing

Irene had been haunted by several nightmares her entire life. They were connected to her childhood but were not simply horrifying memories on repeat. Some of them did indeed take place in her childhood, but they contained twists and events that belonged in other periods of her life and even contained events that had never happened in waking life. An example was a nightmare about her school years in which she self-harmed in a way that was not part of her life until later. It also happened that she discovered her parents’ violence in a dream, and that someone tried to help her, even though that did not happen in waking life.

Anticipating such nightmares prevented her from getting any proper sleep. She would wake up in shock every morning due to the extreme content, feeling as if the events of the dream had really just taken place. It took half a day to get out of this state of shock and it was difficult for her to relate to other people due to the nightmares. She would have this surreal sense of something catastrophic having just happened; by contrast, all the while the whole world acted as if nothing had happened.

This chronic lack of sleep resulted in periodically occurring depressive states that involved an increase in risk of self-harm and suicide attempts. This pattern had led to frequent hospitalizations for years, often involving physical restraint. Irene and I had been working since 2012 on escaping the emotional numbness she had experienced for many years, so that she could feel and react to these bouts of depression at an early point and reduce the intensity of these cycles. We hoped that this would lead to less dramatic hospitalizations and a reduction of the risk to Irene’s health and life. This part of our collaboration was quite successful.

In June of 2017, we were focused on finding ways of alleviating these nightmares. I had the idea that perhaps Irene could influence her dreams by bringing moods with her from the waking to the dreaming state and thus create a less devastating course of dreaming. Irene had said that she was sometimes able to become lucid towards the end of her dreams and then be able to influence the events to some extent. Could this be expanded so that Irene could act within the dreams or shape them? I suggested writing a kind of good night story to investigate if elements of such stories could be brought into the dream if Irene read it just before retiring. The nightmares felt indescribably horrible to Irene, and therefore she had not described them to me in great detail. Based on what impressions I had, I wrote a short fiction about the girl Kate, and let the story take a turn in which Kate fled her parents and sought refuge at the house of a kind woman living next door. This woman realized that Kate was a victim of violence and called the police. Irene took this story home to read before bedtime.

It did not work!

Irene had become annoyed and frustrated with my story. It did not succeed at all in describing the reality of an 11-year-old girl who is a victim of rape and violence from her own parents. Irene was shocked at how ignorant I was and realized that she had assumed that I understood a lot more than I actually did. I could do nothing but admit to this and say that my own life experiences had not equipped me to know what it is like to grow up amidst such violence. It became very apparent to us both that we were on opposite sides of a deep gulf in understanding and experience.

We came from very different life experiences that amounted to inhabiting different realities, each lacking insight into that of the other. She felt compelled to write a story of her own and wrote an account of the fictional Kate, based on one of her many recollections of being brutally beaten by her parents. Like me, she allowed the story to end with Kate running away with her younger sister. She then gave me this story to help me gain some insight into the reality that she knew only too well.

I admit that her story was horrible to read. It confronted me even more directly with what I already knew I did not comprehend: How can parents do that to their own child — or any child for that matter? It was painful to read and to know that it was based directly on Irene’s reality as a child. The story also taught me something of what it is like to be a child under such circumstances that I obviously had great difficulty imagining dependent on my own imagination and disparate life experiences.

For example, the sympathy she felt for her father as he kicked her again and again. Or how guilty she felt for every blow she received, as if she deserved it. And how most of her attention was directed at her little sister who was hiding nearby, and how Kate was preoccupied with keeping her parents’ attention fixed on her, so that her sister was not discovered. It was so painful and heartrending to read that I felt I could not refrain from some kind of response. But how? This was a fictional version of something that happened many years ago. I had the spontaneous inspiration to write a reaction to the events, much like a witness that sees all these things unfolding, but who cannot be seen or heard by any of the people involved until many years later. I read the story again, but this time I marked every place in the text that made me think, evoked an emotion — whether it was anger, despair, compassion, hope, or that provoked my sense of justice and morality — and made comments that were sincere, immediate, and spontaneous responses to everything I had marked out. I gave this, unedited, to Irene to read and then we talked it through at our next meeting.

Without knowing it, we thereby created a method that we would continue to use with a number of Irene’s nightmares and memories from several periods of her life, a method that uncannily seemed to contain those two prominent survival strategies from Irene’s childhood: Writing fictional versions of her life about an alter ego in the third person, and having a sympathetic and responsive audience, advocating for the protagonist of the story.

In August 2017, Irene decided to convert one of her recurring nightmares into such a story about the alter ego Kate, who had now become our shared version of Katja. We agreed to follow the same procedure as before: I would write down my immediate, unfiltered responses while reading the story and send this back to Irene.

An Example of Katja-Writing

Irene and I would like to share with you an example of this work as we believe demonstration is the best possible explanation for it. We also hope that the contents of the example may contain knowledge about the effects and the responses of a survivor of severe childhood trauma, sexual assault, parental violence, and horrification. We hope such knowledge may be of some assistance to others seeking to address such problems. This specific example is the second story of this kind that Irene wrote to me in August 2017, based on a recurrent nightmare. It makes reference to sexual assault and parental violence but does not contain explicit descriptions of such actions. It does, however, contain an explicit description of self-harm which might affect some readers and therefore reader discretion is advised. To read this material, we refer you to Part Two of this paper, which will be published separately.

How We Do It

Irene writes a fictional story about an alter ego going through something very much like real events from her life or an actual dream. I receive this story and respond to it in writing as I read it. The concept of responding that guides me is this: I read the story as if I were a fly on the wall, an invisible presence in the story as if it were reality, or like an audience watching a live documentary in the cinema. I take Kate to be real, but someone I can only reach with considerable delay. I respond as a human being and not a therapist delivering psychological interventions to some determined effect. I am a representative of humanity and a moral universe that is against violence and oppression and holds the person to be of fundamental worth, and life to be sacred.

When I have received such a story, I find the time to privately commit myself to it without having to hurry or be interrupted. I return the text to Irene with my comments and when she has read it on her own, we have a conversation where we go through it comment by comment and discuss the significance and meaning of it. Conversations emerge that are by no means limited by the story but go beyond it. Sometimes Irene writes a response to my responses. And sometimes I also write a response to her responses to my responses, creating a written record of effects and reflections emanating from the story. Such material has been an invaluable source of learning for me.

Effects of Katja-Writing.

The following is Irene’s account of the effects of working in this way for about a year:

Irene: Having this heap of accounts is evidence. Evidence for reality and existence. It is hard evidence of a history and a life. It is there — no matter what anyone else thinks. It makes it possible for me to be a person, and not to just have to fit in, in the eyes of others. These accounts give me a place to stand. It makes it possible for me to live and exist and find peace with myself and not have to “pretend” so much to other people, in place of the feeling that I always have to please others by approaching them, being polite and similar things. The heap of tales make up my life and give me the right to be — in my own way. This is a great change. Being able to feel that way just some of the time is unbelievable!

Living with these stories about Kate and the responses to them is a whole other way of living your life. It makes a very big difference. Everyday life itself becomes different. For example, it matters in daily life that I can say to myself that, “I am allowed and have the right to go and buy groceries.” This gives me a place to stand in life that makes it possible to be. My history still takes up space and haunts me, of course, but suddenly without being heavy and depressing. I can breathe.

All those things I have been called so many times, I have always just had to take it. These words tear one’s personality apart – one’s whole identity that you try to build up — and divide body and soul. It is ripped to pieces so that it is in rags and tatters, but the stories about Kate make it possible to sometimes accept myself.

Working with Katja-writing means that I don’t have to be the main character and carry all the burdens. Instead, it is “someone else,” even if it is about me. It is not remote, but there is more distance. It is almost like becoming part of the audience, and there it doesn’t hurt the same way. There is space to have an opinion about the story. When it is not “yourself,” then maybe you don’t need to keep your guard up to defend and explain yourself so much.

Reading the stories about an alter ego makes it possible to think about the content. It makes it possible to feel something, to see clearly, and to have compassion for the person in the stories. It sort of takes all the “noise” away so that you are able to look at something ugly, but at the same time relate to it. When it is written about someone else, then you can feel something without it being “wrong.” If it is written about me, then it is dangerous and forbidden.

The stories and the responses are enticing. They give me a desire to read them again and again, both inside my head as well as reading it aloud to myself. It is fascinating that it is your own story that you suddenly gain access to.

Katja-Writing and The Shadow Side

In October 2017, Irene explained to me something of the conduct of The Shadow Side when she read my responses to her stories. It had basically given us permission to do this writing practice and seemed to have an interest in it. Irene told me that she got the impression that The Shadow Side is like a frightened child acting in a violent and repellent way to keep everyone away. It doesn’t trust anyone. It had helped and protected Irene and she feels she has an obligation to it. Hearing Irene’s impressions of it, I began to feel sorry for The Shadow Side and desired to recruit it “on our team” rather than seeing it as something “evil.” Irene explained to me that it can take on many guises and speak with different voices, but she could tell that at its core, it is basically a frightened, rejected child.

Irene has kept a continuous diary of every conversation she has ever had with me. In May 2021, she decided to share an entry with me as part of a letter from her, concerning our work on the story Freedom:

“Around the summer of 2017 I suddenly felt a stomachache — in a good way. I started to look forward to reading Christoffer’s responses to my Katja-stories about Kate. I think it was when I read the responses to the story Freedom that I quietly smiled to myself. It was responses like: “Dear Kate. You protected your sister in this ugly night. That is what you did. Your love is so great that I struggle to fathom it. And the injustice is so great.” Did he just praise Kate? And if it was praise for Kate, then was it not also praise for me who survived that ugly night?

In the same text, Christoffer responded: “You are giving something good to your sister’s life, Kate…” Did Christoffer think that Kate did a good thing when she looked after Little Sister? In that case, would that also be what he would think of me, if he had been around at the time?

I smiled and got all warm inside — someone thinks I am doing well. That I did well when everything was at its most chaotic and I didn’t know what to do.

For some reason, I was not attacked by The Shadow Side when I read these responses to Kate. That was probably why — because they were for Kate. But I was Kate! The responses had to apply to me too! Apparently, that was all right with The Shadow Side, who began to empathize with me instead of acting like a harsh judge.

In a diary dated August 18th 2017, I wrote about a conversation with Christoffer:

“We started talking about those responses he has written for the first part of the dream. I asked him if he wrote these responses for ME or Kate?! He replied that it was probably for Kate, but that he was also aware that there was a certain connection between me and Kate. He told me that he didn’t try to analyze what was me and what was Kate but responded very directly to what the story said. I was happy with this. I made a point that I was not Kate and at the same time not not-Kate [This is similar to the ‘Insider Witnessing Practices’ of Epston and Carlson (1)]. So, he chose to respond in the same way. I felt gratitude that he could be so liberated and honest, without hidden motives about achieving something definite. That he was willing to share his immediate thoughts with me without reservation. I explained to him that by doing this, I actually felt that Kate was finally getting a response! Yes, and maybe I am getting it too through Kate, but that is really good, because when I reflect on all that has happened, then it feels so real and at the same time so unreal. Almost like Kate — or Katja.

I said that this in a way made the past easier to deal with. And that someone could react to it. I added that at home, I had imagined that I had to remove everything that didn’t fit into the story. Make it chronological and detailed — and as such write a completely truthful account of that time. I would not have been able to do that. It would not have been nearly as free — and it would have been way too hard. But th

Cognitive Reframing is the Key to Counselling High-Conflict Couples

Posted on July 20, 2023February 24, 2026 by Psychotherapy.net Team

It’s been my clinical experience that a majority of emotionally unravelled, destabilized couples present to treatment hamstrung by chronic, unresolved conflict. Some teeter precariously on the cusp of separation and/or divorce. In one recent case, the couple confessed to me, unsurprisingly, that “Our decision to come to therapy is a desperate, last-ditch effort to salvage our ‘war-torn’ relationship.” Sorrowfully, I’ve observed similar privations hovering menacingly over too many couples who come to treatment.

Being a Clinical First Responder in Couples Therapy

Often, in my efforts to help prevent the worst from unfolding, I’ve found it helpful to shoulder the exigencies of a first responder and lift the couple’s weighty emotional load by reassigning new meaning to their suffering. To do this, I’ll first administer a double dose of empathy, couched in caring authority, while delivering what I hope is a consolatory, reassuring, and reality-based perspective on the rigorous nature of the intimate relationship.

Then, if the couple appears amenable, I’ll gingerly introduce this complementary tongue-in-cheek, but important, cognitive reframe: “As painful as your emotional upheavals are, they reflect the steep price of admission to ‘intimacy land’s’ unsurpassed rewards and fulfilments, despite its topsy-turvy, rugged ride through what can sometimes be treacherous emotional terrain.”

As you might expect, my preliminary biddings at cognitive reframing often require me to periodically double back and re-apply a salve of empathy to obviate any appearance of downplaying or minimizing the couple’s suffering. Then, I’ll again underscore intimacy’s unrivalled complexities and the towering challenges that the couple surely must have wrestled with for so long and with so much accumulated frustration, dismay, confusion, and hurt.

Once the empathy appears sufficiently attuned and absorbed, I’ll ask the couple something akin to this: “Do you suspect, as I do, that your lamentable turmoil and the profound emotional pain that saturates it, are the hugely troublesome but expected outcroppings of these problematic complexities and challenges that commonly plague intimate relationships? However, notwithstanding these forbidding hurdles, here you are, willing to try to rehabilitate your relationship — I commend you!”

While the couple digests my efforts to impose new meaning on their grapples, I’ll ask them to carefully consider what they think stokes their fiery conflicts. As I weigh their responses, I’ll gently elbow them down another cognitive path by suggesting this: “Thoughtfully unpacked, your impassioned, outsized emotions can provide valuable ‘grist for the therapeutic mill’ because they expose a nexus of fundamentally valid personal needs and feelings, and importantly, your abilities to manage both.” I’ll stress, “It’s even intimacy’s ‘job,’ so to speak, to continuously unearth — throughout the countless interactions you have with one another — what your individual need management patterns or styles are like, revealing those that are well-developed, or functional and those that require further development.”

Pushing on, I’ll carefully warn the couple that despite intimacy’s tall promises of unequalled, incomparable personal fulfilments, one of its conundrums consists of a subtle but sinister “dark passenger” that is notoriously commonplace for weakening, even dismantling the individual identities of its constituents. This erosion of partner identity can easily be viewed as the direct, insidious consequence of the non or mismanagement of individual partner needs. Uncorrected, this loss of identity can gouge deeply at the core quality of the relationship.

When Couples Clients Dodge Conflicts

In many of my cases, I’ve witnessed the biting irony of partners who’ll myopically dodge even the slightest prospect of conflict and thus sacrifice themselves by under-managing or not managing their individual needs. Done with “golden intentions,” partners ofttimes deploy this misguided, potentially debilitating tactic for seemingly the “right” reasons: To be considerate of their partner’s differing needs, or to keep from rocking the interpersonal boat by avoiding the risk of conflict sparked by disparate individual needs and the regrettable upshot of painful emotional fallout.

However, I’ll point out that partners who attempt to duck, dance around, or otherwise evade their potentially conflict-generating differences — especially those who do so chronically — risk a nasty, backfiring accrual of metastasizing self and partner resentment.

I often have observed that when conflict-diffident partners opt to use this quick and easy out of conflict for the short-term gain of reducing tension, they paradoxically — and most often unwittingly — induce a downstream, longer-term escalation of couple tension. This proverbial “kick-the-can-down-the-road” pattern of conflict avoidance can diminish partner affection because it most often magnifies rather than lessens couple animosities, making them more pernicious and thus significantly harder to manage. Left untreated, unresolved conflicts create a fecund spawning ground of couple-crippling antipathy.

Conversely, well-managed needs can reduce, even eliminate long-term tensions, even though partners are often called upon to move toward rather than away from potential conflict. Further, well-managed personal needs can cleanse the emotional atmosphere of tension-preserving, lingering feeling debris by prophylactically applying the brakes to self and partner resentment that might otherwise ooze toxically into the partnership.

However, what happens when partners trend in the opposite direction and mismanage their needs by force-feeding their partners non-negotiated demands, manipulations, cajolery, or in some other manner, coerce, blame, or pressure their partners into gratifying their needs? For example, commonly, I hear partners grumble that they don’t feel heard or understood, often voiced as, “We don’t communicate,” or, “He/she never listens to me,” or some fault-finding variant on this complaint-driven, non-constructive relationship critique.

While the need to have one’s partner’s sensitive, respectful understanding is indisputably valid, when frustrated, it’s easily mismanaged with angry accusations and demands which then pulls the targeted partner’s attention away from the need’s legitimacy. Or very often because of a need’s fundamental validity, its gratification can be perilously taken for granted, meaning it’s not actively or effectively managed at all. Partners merely expect, often flutily, that their need for understanding will be met, especially when it’s perceived to be most needed.

I’ll reiterate that poorly managed or non-managed personal needs often become a couple flashpoint. For instance, a partner’s exasperated accusation, “You never listen to me!” most often immediately deploys the accused or “non-listening” partner’s defenses which can then lead to a galling and fruitless spinout in an emotional cul-de-sac of counter-attacking allegations.

Effective Need Management in Couples Counseling

By clear contrast, effective need management can look like this: “Your efforts to listen and understand me leave me feeling respected and cared for…thank you…this means so much to me…and I could sure use a dosing of it now…that is, if you have a moment.” Here, both partners are dealt an equal measure of respect. And while far less economic for time and/or energy, this investment in good need management can pay off in big emotional dividends, since it tends to pull partners toward one another.

Happily, neither partner is likely to be defensive. Instead, good need managers deliver a respectful compliment to their partners which, in turn, helps create a savory atmosphere of mutual respect. Surely, partners who respect one another are more likely to gratify each other’s needs.

Now moving ahead in a decidedly concrete fashion, I’ll encourage the couple to survey their shared history for “healthy exceptions,” that is, to search for instances when they may have effectively managed their personal needs and the feelings orbiting them. I’ll instruct the couple to meticulously and sensitively reference these noteworthy times, calling their attention to how they felt during this all-important personal obligation to themselves and the quality of their relationship, especially when it was done with little or no feather-ruffling.

I’ll encourage the couple to take a moment to reflect and comment on any residual or lasting glow of relational health they may now feel while recalling those moments of good personal need management. Equally important, I’ll ask the couple to try and identify the specific conditions which may have made these propitious partner exchanges possible for the clear therapeutic advantages of reinforcing, burnishing, or otherwise embellishing them.

Moreover, my hope is that this type of positive intervention will resuscitate at least a momentary tincture, if not more, of optimism in the couple. I’ve also discovered that periodic, well-timed infusions of hope can be an especially beneficial mode of intervention.

I’ve also found it helpful to dole out frequent reminders that effectively managing some individual needs may pose a temporary threat to the equanimity and stability of their relationship. I’ll frequently coach the couple to practice in session, with follow-ups at home, the calculated risks associated with the effective management of their needs. This entails summoning the courage to vulnerably enter the “emotional lion’s den.” I’ll promote this important step as key to effective personal need management, highlighting that it’s intimacy’s lifeblood — I risk therefore I am intimate.

Nonetheless, I’ll repeat, seemingly ad nauseam, that intimacy’s matchless portfolio of far-reaching, personally fulfilling enrichments are achieved in proportion to the couple’s efforts to acquire greater “intimacy intelligence” by intrepidly sharpening their skills of effective need management. Specifically, I’ll point out that these highly enviable rewards take their form in a gratifying uptick of self-esteem. Moreover, this uptick in self-esteem is usually accompanied by a flattering bonus — a commensurate boost in their partner’s esteem.

I’ll encouragingly describe how applying the orthodoxy of effective personal need management deepens the connection, or the integration, partners have within themselves, which is arguably a necessary precursor to a deep, meaningful connection between relating partners. I’ll be no closer to my partner than I am first close to myself. Again, I’ll stress that personal needs and feelings that are effectively managed ensure that partner identities are well-embroidered in a need-by-need, feeling-by-feeling fashion, a well-knit fabric of the self. I like to emphasize that the quality of the intimate relationship is a function of the quality of the partners who inhabit it.

As each session draws to its end, I’ll send the couple home with a small buffet of helpful maxims, like those just mentioned, “clinical love notes,” as it were. I’ll often remind the couple that the art of loving is rarely, if ever, perfected but it can be improved upon by taking on the lifelong prescription to hone the personal skills of effective need management. My intent here is to keep the work done in treatment fresh, alive, and well-practiced at home where it counts the most.

Psychotherapy With Non-Verbal Clients: Blending Empathy and Flexibility

Posted on July 18, 2023February 11, 2026 by Psychotherapy.net Team

Psychotherapy with Non-Verbal Clients

Hello, Jane.

My name is Tom.

Can you hear me? Blink once if yes, or blink twice if no.

One blink.

Is your name Jane?

One blink.

Is my name Tom?

One blink.

Is my name George?

Two blinks.

Is your name George?

Two blinks.

Jane is fully paralyzed, and can only communicate by use of eye blinks — one for yes, and two for no. Her yes/no responses had been tested by the speech therapist and were deemed to be reliable. By responding to a series of my comments and questions, she could indicate her answers, and gradually build up a conversation about her thoughts, feelings, and concerns.

Consequent to a brain stem stroke, Rachel became paralyzed from the neck down. Her brain functions are intact, and she makes facial expressions, but cannot speak or move her body or limbs. Rachel communicates with a clear plastic board with black alphabet letters and numerical digits. I hold it up and watch her eyes carefully and methodically scan the board, and then say aloud each letter she selects by looking at it, as she builds words and sentences. Rachel can have thoughtful and meaningful conversations in psychotherapy, or with others — if someone is willing to make the effort to use her method of communication. In our first conversation Rachel communicated, “We should do staff in-service training, Tom, because they don’t always use my letterboard.”

Roger sustained a severe brain injury, and he was only able to move his right thumb, yet he would lift his thumb once for yes, and twice for no, and with that method, Roger could generate basic communications.

Doris was deaf for most of her life and was a skilled signer and reader of lips. She came to the nursing facility after a stroke. I don’t know how to sign, and I wear a mask at the facility, so I would write my questions and comments, and Doris would read them and give verbal responses.

Mark had been in a persistent vegetative state after a brain injury. He eventually made a surprising recovery, regained his speech, and moved about in a wheelchair. Mark explained to me that during the period when he was outwardly unresponsive, he had been aware of others speaking around him, yet he could not let them know. During that period, he also experienced an exact recurring sequence of twelve dreams, which he was glad to now be able to share with me.

Combining Empathy, Creativity, and Flexibility in Psychotherapy

In psychotherapy, I commonly attend to the specific content of what a client is saying, as well as what may be left out or avoided, what might be hinted at or signaled indirectly. I listen to the tone and pace of a client’s speech, and to gestures and body postures that also communicate meanings. I follow the attention of the client, how one establishes or breaks contact, and if the client is speaking directly to me as they search for new understanding or might be repeating comments they have made to others, or even if they might be speaking to an internal audience more than to me. I pay attention to what the client inwardly attends to and ask questions or make comments to guide their attention to what they might overlook, minimize, or avoid. This approach becomes more critical when working with clients like these with medical or disabling conditions that affect their ability to communicate verbally.

While practicing psychotherapy in nursing facilities, I might work with a client with intact cognitive and language skills, or sometimes with someone with a brain injury or a neurological condition. The individual might even be a non-verbal communicator, which as I have learned, does not preclude meaningful, empathic communication.

Some of my clients use non-verbal methods of communicating such as gestures, or a letter board, or an electronic device for spelling or voicing their typed comments. I may need to extend my patience and concentration when working with a non-verbal client. If an individual can only offer yes/no responses, it is important to clarify and confirm the accuracy of their responses. When documenting the conversations, I might state that I said or asked this, and the client indicated or selected that to limit assumptions or misunderstandings about precise communication with the client.

When working with a non-verbal client it is, ironically, the non-verbal communication that is lessened, as the client and I are focused more on the concrete words or meanings being generated than on the manner of communicating.

Social communications are an essential human need. A reduced ability to communicate or the loss of speech can be profound, and when added to an acquired disability condition, communication can be that much more difficult, especially between therapist and client. When a person most needs to talk about their situation, they might be unable to speak, or quite limited in their ability to communicate — if others do not effectively assist their abilities with some augmentative type of communication method. A person might lose the ability to verbalize speech, yet they do not thereby lose their need to communicate. Psychotherapy with a non-verbal client is possible yet may require adaptation of methods, therapeutic approach, and attitude.

***

I have been especially moved by the challenges faced by people with one or another barrier to ordinary human communications. I feel proud of the courage these individuals display as they grapple with enormous communication problems — those that others might overlook.

Some clinicians and health care providers might think it is not effective to attempt psychotherapy with significantly disabled persons or clients with an absence or impairment of speech. But my clients have many times expressed their appreciation for being helped to develop and refine methods of communication through speech therapy and psychotherapy.

It has been important to help my clients think about and prepare ways they might more successfully communicate with others, and not only with their therapist. For example, Rachel could have a card posted in her room or attached to her wheelchair that explains her need for help to communicate, and brief instructions for how to help. Or I might coach a client to practice sharpening the point of their messages so they more quickly convey their needs or requests before a listener might lose patience and end an interaction.

Psychotherapy can still be a dialog even when it is not a typical verbal conversation. A client can still be helped to find and use their personal “voice” even if it is not a spoken one.

Using Common Sense Problem-Solving and Worry Containment to Subdue Ruminations

Posted on July 13, 2023March 3, 2026 by Psychotherapy.net Team

The Devil of Rumination and Obsessional Thinking

I often wonder how I as a therapist can best help clients who torture themselves by overthinking and over-analysing in a cyclical manner that essentially gets them nowhere. If it is not possible to help them purge themselves of such burdensome thoughts, is it at least possible to help them make peace with the “unwelcomed devil” of rumination?

I’ll start by reframing rumination as the devil we know, which may still remain a devil, but maybe less scary than the devil we don’t know.

Rumination is a form of obsessional thinking characterized by excessive, usually unwanted, and repetitive thoughts or themes that hijack other mental activity and it is a common feature of obsessive-compulsive disorder and generalized anxiety disorder. It is also dwelling on negative feelings and distress, and their possible causes and consequences. Furthermore, the repetitive, negative aspect of rumination can contribute to the development of depression or anxiety and can worsen pre-existing conditions.

Ruminative states, even for non-depressed people, are directly associated with negative affect. In fact, the more clients ruminate, the more they are likely to throw fuel on the cognitive fire, so to speak, and become entrapped in a vicious cycle, making them feel even worse. My experience with these clients has been that they ruminate in all three time zones of their lives — past, present, and future — on events of both real significance and seeming significance.

A method for tackling rumination that I have found to be particularly useful with these clients is to use problem solving, pondering, and positive reflection. If rumination is overthinking a problem and worries related to that problem, it makes sense to take a positive stance and use problem-solving skills to find the optimal solution that rumination seems to seek, and that could put it to rest. Furthermore, problem-solving strategies can be even more effective when they actually aim to resolve the problem the rumination seeks to magically dispel.

Classic problem-solving models in organizational psychology suggest a series of stages in problem solving culminating in the implementation of action, which can help individuals to either confirm that they are moving in the right direction or think about what changes they need to make in their plans — the verification stage. I also believe that linking problem solving and positive reflection with the specific actions can help to enhance clients’ confidence and sense of efficacy and help them to break the repetitive cycle of rumination.

Applying a Solution Focus

Integrating the above perspective into Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy and Solution-Focused Therapy, I may ask my client to identify and engage in a (small and feasible) first task related to the content of their rumination and plan to complete it as soon as they realistically can. For example, if an individual ruminates about their upcoming “job performance,” they could identify one or two minor work-performance-related tasks and aim to complete them initially.

This first step would not necessarily mean that they have found all the answers to their worries, but it would help them feel that they have at least done something, even quite small, which brought them closer to the achievement of their goal (a positive job performance review in this example). Moreover, from a positive reinforcement perspective, they could also plan to reward themselves with something enjoyable that they “deserve to do” (since they will have managed to take some action, instead of overthinking or freezing).

For certain types of rumination (such as work-related stress or perfectionism), I have found this approach particularly useful as my clients find it easy to find a series of actions or tasks that help them develop a sense of moving forward — and slowly moving away from the gravitational pull of rumination. However, there are other frequent types of rumination that, by their nature and content, do not lend themselves directly to interlinked specific actions, such as “is this the right job for me or not?” or for those clients who don’t have the practical or mental resources at a given time to explore how their rumination could be translated to any specific plan.

In such cases, I invite them to “take a break” from their laborious, constant effort to find a “solution,” which would cease the seemingly incessant pressure to ruminate. This suggestion, of course, is often challenging for them as it directly opposes the very nature of rumination — the underlying implicit, irrational belief that “I need to keep analysing a specific concern, until I find an answer or a solution that I am completely happy with.”

The client’s resistance to pause their overthinking may be underpinned by another implicit belief that “there is no way I will be able to relax and find mental peace until I get everything outstanding done and dusted.” This notion is sometimes effective to help clients increase their motivation to fight procrastination and eventually solve problems and achieve their goals. Nevertheless, at other times, it will just not be possible to solve something as soon as possible, nor to even envision the solution — leaving the client feeling even more frustrated, anxious, and predisposed to continued rumination.

In these situations, the biggest trap is not that they will still have “unfinished, disturbing (pragmatic or emotional) business,” but that they will have trained their brain to believe that it is possible not to have any unfinished business, not to have any more intrusive worries and that “when there is a will, there is always a way.”

However, this otherwise helpful and motivating attitude can often just fuel further excessive worry and rumination. The curious question then becomes, “how can the normally reasonable aim to solve problems as quickly as possible become a problem on its own?”

A Pragmatic Approach to Rumination

In my experience, western culture values a proactive, problem-solving approach that rewards and encourages taking responsibility, a sense of agency, and ownership of our lives, as opposed to being passive and reactive. My aim here is not to explore this cultural notion as such (which would entail a much broader philosophical discussion), but rather to highlight its limitations and to reflect on the ways that we can contain our excessively proactive stance, and the worries and perpetuated rumination that often accompany it.

I have come to believe that as important as it is to be proactive and to take responsibility, it is equally important to fundamentally acknowledge that we only have certain emotional and pragmatic capacity at any given time to deal with our goals and our relevant worries. Thus, we may need to decide that we can only deal with just one of our concerns at a time, while we may also endeavour to teach ourselves to tolerate and bracket all other ones.

Rumination by nature “demands” immediate answers and solutions. In contrast, I encourage my clients to allow their intrusive thoughts to emerge and claim their space, while at the same time, challenge them to fight their urge to engage thoroughly with them in-the-moment (which only fuels further and futile rumination). I encourage them to slow down and allow some time to observe their worries as they emerge naturally and unfold in their mind. At the same time, I ask them to make an “appointment” with that urge a few days later, at which time they can, if they choose, respond to their demand for their attention. During that appointment, they can calmly reflect on which of their worries really matter, which ones require more time to ferment, and whether there is any proportionate course of action they can take (or not?) in response to them. When they manage to gain some distance from the urge to ruminate, or from the rumination itself, they may find out that — not surprisingly — several of their worries no longer claim much of their attention.

Of course, this is much easier said than done. Worries are unrelenting. They have their backhanded way of persevering and drawing clients into their dark, seemingly bottomless pit without offering even a glimmer of light or hope that might otherwise offer a solution that feels “good enough,” and without offering the slightest means of escaping their gravitational pull.

An additional strategy I have found useful to help my clients with rumination has been to invite them to implement an easy, positive distraction at the time when their urge to ruminate emerges. This is indeed one of the common techniques, along with other ones such as mindfulness. However, positive distractions seem to be most useful when they are combined with a “reassurance” to our worries that we will indeed come back to them at a more appropriate time, when we will be better prepared and have the mental space to deal with them.

In this context, I have had clients set an appointment with their worries and I actually encouraged them to take this appointment quite seriously. Thus, when clients actually engage in these appointments, they often find that some of these worries have been impatiently awaiting their arrival and are still adamantly demanding their attention, while others have not. At that point, and only at that allotted time, the client is better prepared to address those worries, having built the patience and mental space to do so. As therapy itself is an ongoing process as is problem resolution, clients come to appreciate that it is not necessary to respond to the siren call of worries when they first arise. Pandora’s box will always be there waiting for them in the therapy room, and they will choose when to open it or not.

Most of the above points were at play in the work I have done with one of my favorite and long-term clients. Stuart, as I will call him, was ruminating equally about “small things,” like the slight slope on the floor of his Victorian-age house; and big things, like the dilemma of whether he would ever find a more meaningful job and career. I knew that saying to Stuart something like, “don’t think about this,” would just make him think about these concerns even more.

Instead, I said to Stuart, “you can think about this as much as you want, but could you possibly give up on finding an answer to your worry in-the-moment? And maybe, as you will still be thinking about it, could you also try to do surface research online about any jobs that are out there, that could potentially be meaningful for you in the future?’’ This intervention was a combination of a positive distraction, patience, and looking forward. When Stuart came back for his next session, he told me that even though his ruminations were still there, he was much more able to contain them. Was he then able to “become friends” with them? Well, not necessarily, but by practising to sit with them, slow down, and possibly add a positive distraction in the mix, his ruminations certainly became a more familiar, less scary, and more tolerable devil.

Stuart was a willing worker, as are many of my clients. But it was as important to build a relationship of trust and hope with him as it was to help him build a sense of hope and confidence that he could eventually subdue his ruminations and live freely.

Reducing the Negative Impact of Reasonable Expectations on Healthy Relationships

Posted on July 11, 2023February 11, 2026 by Psychotherapy.net Team

On a daily basis, I have the pleasure of providing counseling services to couples hoping to strengthen their relationship together. Whether pre-engaged, engaged, recently married or married for decades, I help them to explore the similarities and differences between couples as well as within them.

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Barriers to Intimacy

While intimate relationships such as marriage have the potential for great happiness and joy, there is also the risk of frustration and disappointment. To assist these couples in strengthening their sense of relationship connection, we spend time exploring various aspects of their personal and relationship history, efforts that have already been taken to resolve the barriers between them, and identifying individual and relational strengths as well as growth areas. Of the many contributing factors to the difficulties these couples experience are the challenges they experience adjusting to differences between them — a very common barrier to healthy understanding and interaction.

For several years I have spent time helping couples not only identify their similarities and differences and the significance they play in their interactions, but also reframing their understanding and experience of those similarities and differences as less inconvenient and detrimental, and more appreciated, respected, and as potential opportunities for relationship enhancement.

Differences in assertiveness can be frustrating when one partner is expecting the other to be more open and direct, while the other partner is expecting that partner to tone it down a bit. Differences in preferred methods of quality time together can lead to distance if one partner is expecting a commitment to quality time to look like daily-initiated interactions, while the other partner is content with weekly, assuming that the commitment has been fulfilled.

In these cases, and others like it, reasonable expectations that are not healthily expressed or acknowledged can be a detrimental dynamic. After all, many feel as though what they are asking for or expecting is reasonable rather than too much. This fact often exacerbates their shared or individual disappointment since it hurts on one level to not have what one wants, and it hurts on another level to believe that the person you care about most doesn’t care enough to provide your reasonable minimal standard.

To address the detriment of reasonable expectations, I have found it useful to help them:

Identify their expectations

Own their expectations

Respect others’ expectations

Identify Their Expectations

Relationship expectations come from various sources. Sometimes we’re directly taught what to expect from a relationship from our parents or other loved ones. Other times we’ve learned by watching what has been modeled for us by parents or loved ones without anyone having to say a word. And yet other times, we have simply picked things up over the years, having sifted through life’s experiences, leaving behind what we did not care to experience and holding onto the things that we would look forward to experiencing.

Own Their Expectation

Over time, we develop a set of expectations that have years of justification, validation, and support. They can be so integrated into one’s view of the world that individuals are not aware that their expectations are not indicators of the “best” experiences and ways of doing things, but rather the experiences and ways of doing things that they have come to appreciate more than others. As such, before change can occur, they need to own their expectations as their own legitimate preferences. This does not make them any less valid. Rather, it allows for the opportunity to accept others’ differing preferences as legitimate.

Respect the Other’s Expectations

Once each member of the couple identifies and expresses their expectations and acknowledges them as their personal preferences, it can become easier to appreciate and respect the other’s expectations as reasonable preferences as well. And when that other person is the most important person in their life, for whom they have committed to helping meet as many preferences as possible, the challenge transitions from, “Why does my partner have such inconvenient and unreasonable expectations?” to, “How can I better understand why my partner has these preferences and how they can benefit our relationship even if they differ at times from my preferences and expectations?” This is a very different type of conversation, which at its essence is non-conflictual. This type of conversation seems a mutual win-win, with mutual respect, consideration, and care expressed along the way.

Consider the newly married couple who dated during college, married after graduation, and are now having difficulty adjusting to life after their honeymoon. Although they shared a goal of creating a new routine that prioritized their marriage together, they soon discovered that they had different expectations of what priority looked like. She expected them to maintain a frequency of quality time similar to what they had during college, including frequent shared classes, meals together, as well as a few shared extracurricular activities. It came then as a shock to her when her new husband no longer seemed interested in spending time with her, leaving her feeling lonely and misled. It was later revealed that her husband indeed valued and prioritized his marriage so much that he committed to dedicating all his “free time” to his wife; however, different from their shared college environment and routine, “free time” was now significantly less and came after spending nine hours of each day (including work and his commute) away from home, and consequently, his wife.

What helped resolve a potential connection- and intimacy-damaging misunderstanding was the couple’s effort to identify their individual and differing expectations on what their marriage would look like. Seeing the legitimacy of their own expectations influenced by reasonable conclusions based on past experiences helped them reduce defensiveness and judgment of each other’s differing expectations. This foundation then helped them see the legitimacy of their partner’s expectations for the same reasons and express that understanding in a way that created a safe environment for them to work and in which to create new shared expectations together, with both of their needs and desires in mind.

***

Reasonable expectations are just that — reasonable. However, the fact that they may be reasonable doesn’t mean that each of our clients is entitled to them, especially when the other’s expectations conflict with theirs. My challenge in working with these couples is to help each person to identify and own their preferences with appropriate value, while also avoiding the temptation to give them more value than they deserve; as doing so can lead to unnecessary and unhelpful relationship rigidity and emotional distance and separation.

Questions for Thought and Discussion

In what ways are this author’s premise for couples counseling similar to or different from yours?

How do you address differing expectations in couples counseling?

How might you have addressed the challenges of working with the couple described in this essay?

The Realm of Our Industry

Posted on July 6, 2023February 11, 2026 by Psychotherapy.net Team

“In the beginning, we were all psychotherapists. And it was good.”

—Bruce Minor, Minnesota Member of the MFT Community

THE TIME HAS COME to face our industry and sit with the ways the therapy system in which we work helps us, hurts us, and holds us to a standard impossible to meet. Throughout this book we have touched on many issues facing our work; now we are looking specifically at the system in which we work. No longer a collection of individual practitioners who see each other as fellow members of a therapeutic federation, our industry (therapy) has become compartmentalized, industrialized, and controlled by third-party payers.

As you begin this leg of the journey, we invite you to pause and reflect on the mentors and experiences who supported you on your quest to become a therapist. We welcome you to reflect on mentors of both the past and the present, as well as those with whom you had a challenging or even fraught relationship. Even those mentors and supervisors who we experience as awful can teach us valuable lessons (though that does not exonerate them).

When it comes to mentors and supervisors, we, the authors, have had the best and the worst. For this chapter, we reflect on some of the greats from our local MFT community: Anne Ramage, PsyD, LMFT, our graduate school professor who taught us so much more than we ever realized there was to know about Carl Whitaker; and the collective of marriage and family therapists who have sustained the Minnesota field for decades, some of whom also became our supervisors and mentors: Ginny D’Angelo, LICSW, LMFT, Bruce Minor, LMFT, Briar Miller, LMFT, and Michelle Libi, LMFT.

You blink and end your repose to find that you’re alone. It feels as if you have awoken from a dream. You rise from your resting spot and begin to walk down the winding path toward the sound of a river. As you walk, you notice the crunch of twigs underfoot and hear distant birds. Is one of them the red-winged blackbird? Neither your bird friend nor the forest yeti are anywhere in sight. Perhaps you dreamed them.

You look up at the branches of a nearby tree and notice a small silver shape clinging to a twig. Pausing, you raise up onto your tiptoes and realize that this is a cocoon, perhaps belonging to a butterfly or a moth. You gaze at the cocoon for a moment longer, noticing it shake as the small creature inside struggles with its transformation. Change is such hard work, you muse, and resume the hike. As you walk you notice that you have many aches in your body. How long were you sitting in meditation? You stretch your neck from side to side as you continue to make your way down the mountainside.

As you breathe in, the air is fragrant with the scent of dried leaves and warm earth. You wonder at the way the seasons seem to have shifted around you on your travels. As you look around the forest bordering either side of the path, you notice hints of yellow and orange in many of the leaves. The wind shifts, blowing the undersides of the leaves up, causing them to shift and sway. It reminds you of a distant memory, but as you grasp for it, the memory skitters out of reach.

The path winds down the slope, and you lean slightly backward against the tug of inertia and gravity. The sun’s rays are just the right amount of warmth, offering a radiating blanket of heat against the cooler air temperature. You look down and slightly to your left, and you see a ribbon of blue snaking through the undergrowth far below: a river. It looks like a nice place to pause and rest. You estimate that you have at least another mile to walk down the mountain before you reach the riverbank. You walk down toward it.

Therapy’s Big Brother

Once upon a time, as Bruce Minor reminds us, we were all just psychotherapists. In the very, very beginning of our industry, there were just small- to medium-sized collectives of human beings throughout the American and European continents — composed mostly of wealthy men and a few audacious women — gathering together in an attempt to suss out the nature of the human mind and heart. From these meetings, the field of psychoanalysis was born.

While these early theorists and practitioners engaged in practices that we would gasp at today — Freud psychoanalyzing his daughter, Jung sleeping with several of his patients who then became therapists-in-training — their mistakes became the foundations upon which rules like “no dual relationships” were based.

These early therapists did not have insurance agencies or managed care with which to deal. But they also tended to focus on treating the bourgeoisie — the European upper middle class who could afford to pay for things like this newfangled “talking cure,” thanks to their monopoly on industry. Neither Jung, Adler, nor Freud himself (founding psychoanalysts all) had to consider whether high-quality psychotherapy happens in increments of forty-five, sixty, or ninety minutes. We bring you this abbreviated history lesson to remind us all that our present constructs have not always existed. Not only have they not always existed, but they might not actually be the most effective structure for treatment.

When family therapy was new, co-therapy and one-way mirrors with reflection teams were the standard of the day. When Justine tells graduate students about these once-standard training practices, they are in awe. “But how did that get paid for?!” they exclaim. The short answer is that decades ago, universities, particularly public universities, had more money in the humanities and social science departments.

Insurance once reimbursed for far more therapeutic services than they do now. Then Justine will often go on to tell her students about sitting in her own graduate school classroom at Hazelden Graduate School of Addiction Studies (now Hazelden Betty Ford) and hearing her professors talk about the changing landscape of drug and alcohol treatment.

Structured limitations are necessary for high-quality therapy (recall the example of sandtray therapy and the need for a literal box within which to put the sand, from chapter 2). Certainly, the case could be made that American psychoanalysis and drug treatment of the 1970s and 1980s was in need of a bit more clinical oversight. But the evolution that followed brings us to a dystopian present where third-party payers like insurance companies are dictating the terms and conditions of treatment. They’re also dictating the amount of money that the clinician receives for the work they do based solely on their licensure, rather than on the type of work they’re doing. These payouts are often inadequate at best and paltry at worst. Because of variable reimbursement rates, the amount of time and effort needed to handle billing issues, and the hoops clinicians need to navigate to get even the small amount of money they’re paid, private-practice clinicians are increasingly opting out of the insurance model. This causes frustration for would-be clients, and for other clinicians.

Licensure Drama

Have you ever had an issue with another clinician and thought, “Well, that’s just because they’re a Ph.D.; doctorate school sucks all of the fun out of you”? Or perhaps you’ve thought, “They don’t teach master’s-level clinicians anything about diagnostics.” Third-party payers and clinicians determine their reimbursement or compensation rates based on a number of factors, including education. Hierarchical thinking dictates that the more education and experience a person has, the more they should be valued.

The main way that we express or show value is through monetary compensation. However, this very quickly leads to confusion and resentment when master’s-level clinicians and doctoral-level clinicians are working at the same practice or agency, and are performing, at least on paper, the same job functions. Disparate training and licensure requirements can lead to differences in case conceptualizations, standards of care, and clinical interventions.

Certainly, these varied perspectives can be helpful if discussed and processed through open and honest clinical dialogue. But who has time for that? We don’t say this to minimize or undermine the value of care coordination. The reality, though, is that third-party payers don’t reimburse for care coordination. Contemporary clinicians are lucky if they can connect for five or ten minutes via phone either just before the beginning (seven a.m.) or just after the end (seven p.m.) of their clinical day. Thus, it’s no surprise that confusion and even infighting across licenses and education levels abound.

Justine recalls a question from a student about this infighting: “But who is actually above the others? There has to be a hierarchy, right?” Justine responded that while it may feel as though there is a hierarchy, the reality is that we’re a community with a variety of skills. We don’t need to fight among ourselves. She said that just because someone with a doctorate has more education than someone with a master’s degree, that doesn’t make them better than or above the master’s-level clinician. This is a social construct that we get to question and challenge, because it no longer serves us.

The tangible difference between master’s-level and doctoral-level clinicians lies in the area of assessment. Folks who complete doctoral programs are schooled in the practice of psychological assessment and usually graduate with the third party-payer reimbursable skill of psychological assessment.

With gravity on your side, you make it to the bottom of the mountain faster than anticipated. The sound of the river rings in your ears as you push through the bracken toward the riverbank. The grass along the shore is a deep green and only slightly prickly as you kneel down and bend over the water, cupping your hands to take a long, cool drink. Once you have quenched your thirst, you sit back on your heels and stare out across the blue water, leaning into the rays of the sun at your back. You notice a butterfly flapping its wings and landing on a nearby flower.

App Therapy Is the New In-Home Therapy

Newly-minted therapy graduates find themselves staring down the gauntlet of the licensure process, which usually entails several examinations, hours of supervision, and even more hours of direct client care. Depending upon the state where you live and the license you’re pursuing, you may find it very difficult to get a job that pays you money while you acquire hours you can count toward licensure.

Over the past few decades, the entry-level job for graduates in this predicament was in-home family therapy. Often considered the grunt work of the therapy industry, in-home family therapy requires practitioners to work long hours and drive long distances for very minimal pay. In 2014, when Larisa was working as an in-home clinician, she didn’t even make minimum wage, so she worked another job part time as an after-hours crisis counselor.

Today’s graduates have a new, additional option: they can become app therapists. Similar to other gig jobs like Uber Eats and Lyft, clinicians who work for therapy apps such as BetterHelp, TalkSpace, and Larkr are either populated by associate-licensed or fully licensed clinicians, and they work entirely through their company’s telehealth app interface. They tend to have very large caseloads (pitched to them as a “great opportunity to get your licensure hours”), minimal time with an assigned clinical supervisor, and demanding clinical expectations. Most therapy app jobs market their services to prospective clients with the promise of a readily available therapist, translating to the expectation that the therapist is available to the client at least via chat through most hours of the day and night.

Larisa vividly recalls many of her lectures with Dr. Anne Ramage for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that Dr. Ramage is an excellent professor and an enigmatic speaker. Among all of Larisa’s memories of Dr. Ramage’s Carl Whitaker quotes and experiential roleplays, she recalls the professor advising time and again that “in-home jobs will be waiting for you as soon as you graduate. They’re tough. You need to be ready. But they’ll give you excellent experience in working with families.” Then Dr. Ramage discussed the MFT techniques from that particular lecture that might apply to in-home work, and she explained the basic safety strategies of which in-home clinicians needed to be aware.

When Larisa graduated, she did indeed take a job as an in-home family therapist. The night before her first day, she reviewed the strategies she had learned from Dr. Ramage:

1. Arrive five minutes early and look up the homes you’ll be visiting in advance so you can plan your parking strategy. Never schedule sessions late in the evening or after dark.

2. Be ready to set clear and consistent boundaries, and for those boundaries to be tested.

3. Pack a change of clothes and hand sanitizer.

4. Review your agency’s privacy policies.

5. When you enter someone’s home, assess for safety and your own exit strategy. Although it is rare that clients will ever mean you harm, things can and do get out of hand when you are in the family’s own space. You get to protect yourself first.

This survival guide doesn’t apply to folks who are working for therapy apps, but the need for both support and coping strategies is no less acute. If you’re working for a therapy app, we, the authors, offer you deep compassion and the following tips:

1. Plan an exit strategy. What does this mean? It means a human being can’t sustain years of work at the rate demanded by therapy apps. So, it’s essential for you to decide how long you can sustain working for a therapy app before you go the way of a younger Larisa and start losing your hair and developing insomnia.

2. Find a supervisor outside the therapy app. Yes, you will probably have to pay for this supervision, and that will likely cause financial stress. However, it is crucial for you to have a guide whose sole investment is in you and who exists outside the system in which you work, to help you regain perspective and hold boundaries around things like time management and availability.

3. Remember that any symptoms of burnout (i.e., signs of physical or emotional distress) you’re experiencing are likely the cause of moral injury — harm caused by the system in which you work — rather than any fault of your own (we’ll discuss these concepts in more detail in the next section of this chapter).

4. Manage your expectations for yourself. However, you envisioned your therapy experience, it likely did not involve a smartphone application called “Better-something.” You can’t do depth psychotherapy in this kind of context; what you can do is help your clients with basic coping strategies and compassionate presence — sometimes, but not all the time. You’re not required to have 24/7 availability, no matter what your company tells you. Not even standard laptops can run constantly forever; they need to rest and update.

5. Reach out to your community. When you work in an online environment, it can be difficult to get your emotional needs met. Please remember to engage with other living beings outside your work environment who understand some of what you’re going through and who can show up for you.

Burnout and Moral Injury

The Realm of Our Work has changed in ways that we never imagined over the course of the collective traumas of the 2020s. Suddenly the norm is to work in a virtual therapy room, and some clients expect to have regular access to their therapist via text messages and video chat services. This isn’t what we thought the field would look like.

When Justine imagined her future as a therapist, she saw herself engulfed in a scarf, with a teacup in hand, sitting across from her client in an overstuffed chair near a small fire in a fireplace, surrounded by books. She envisioned herself helping people and feeling filled up by the work, then returning home to a pleasant evening all to herself — overall a very calm and steady way of life.

This is not reality. For a time, she did have the tea and the overstuffed chair, but the rest of the fantasy was just that — a fantasy. Justine now works behind a computer and sits in a rolling chair; her view is full of microphones, a ring light, and multiple monitors. For her, the change in our industry has been the death of a dream. The death of any dream is an ambiguous loss that even therapists are not always good at recognizing and finding compassion and ritual to help them move through it.

Of course, parts of what Justine imagined the life of a therapist to be all those many years ago, before she ever entered the field, were simply inaccurate. Even before teletherapy and therapy apps took over the field, the life of a therapist was rarely calm and steady. It had moments and longer periods of such calm, but the nature of therapy is to work with volatile emotions. The emotional intensity inherent to the profession impacts even the most experienced and boundaried of therapists.

Larisa’s experience differed in that she had a logical view of what life in the field would be like. She felt like she had prepared herself emotionally for the trials of holding space for people and their emotions day in and day out. She believed that this preparation would act as a shield against any future catastrophe. The sadness came when she realized that no matter how prepared she had been, the situation was worse, and far more unpredictable, than she could have imagined. She was ready for the stresses of people’s everyday lives and even for their great despair and trauma, but she was unprepared for the collective trauma of our age stepping into the therapy room and into her own life. She was totally unprepared for how political leadership would fail her and everyone else in her country during this time of great collective need.

In her younger and more impressionable years, she believed that even though power is corrosive and toxic to politicians, when they were faced with clear and present disaster, they would channel their highest selves and work to help people. Now Larisa realizes that America’s representative government has devolved into rule by the wealthy elite who use their resources to buffer themselves from the pain and the needs of their constituents. Sometimes the despair she feels is crushing. Perhaps you can relate.

As we sit with the tragedies that have befallen our profession, it is no wonder that so many therapists struggle with burnout. Burnout can be defined from many perspectives. For the sake of brevity and clarity, we offer definitions of both individualized burnout and systemic burnout. Individualized burnout occurs when a person is so emotionally exhausted that they chronically struggle with depersonalization, which is emotional, physical, and cognitive numbness that makes the person unable to feel present in their own body or life.

Systemic burnout is also known as moral injury, which is when a person experiences symptoms through no fault of their own; rather, the symptoms result from harm caused by the system in which they work. Moral injury was first defined by psychiatrist Jonathan Shay as a “betrayal of what is right by someone who holds legitimate authority in a high stakes situation.” Wendy Dean, Simon Talbot, and Austin Dean expanded upon this definition when they argued for clinician burnout to be redefined as moral injury:

Moral injury occurs when we perpetrate, bear witness to, or fail to prevent an act that transgresses our deeply held moral beliefs. In the health care context, that deeply held moral belief is the oath each of us took when embarking on our paths as health care providers: Put the needs of patients first. That oath is the lynchpin [sic] of our working lives and our guiding principle when searching for the right course of action.

But as clinicians, we are increasingly forced to consider the demands of other stakeholders — the electronic medical record (EMR), the insurers, the hospital, the health care system, even our own financial security —before the needs of our patients. Every time we are forced to make a decision that contravenes our patients’ best interests, we feel a sting of moral injustice. Over time, these repetitive insults amass into moral injury.

The article quoted above speaks solely to the experience of medical doctors, but its implications are clear for the chronic systemic burnout faced by so many in helping professions, including (but not limited to) therapists, medical technicians, nurses, and case managers. Helping professionals are increasingly placed in a double bind; that is, they’re being placed in situations from which there is no escape, and they’re being asked to perform at least two mutually exclusive actions simultaneously. They’re being asked to care for clients but also to please many other stakeholders, all without the amount or quality of support that they need. Just like all double binds, this is an untenable situation that causes distress within the clinician.

We, the authors, appreciate the distinction between burnout and moral injury. The concept of moral injury takes the onus off the individual, because there’s not enough self-care in the world to account for a system that’s set up as a no-win situation. When larger systems talk about “burnout,” that terminology allows them to let themselves off the hook for the clinician’s pain. The system can then pass the problem back to the clinician as a personal failing, rather than a systemic one. The therapy field is currently crying out for systemic change. We cannot do everything and be everything to everyone. It is impossible, and it is destroying us.

The butterfly’s orange and black wings flutter back and forth as it buries its face in a Black-eyed Susan. You contemplate the effort that it took for this butterfly to metamorphose from a caterpillar. It went through a violent transformation in the cocoon to become this creature. It’s not a pretty process. The butterfly must flap and flap and flap its wings inside the cocoon to strengthen them. It can be a difficult struggle to watch, and an onlooker often wants to help the butterfly be free from its enclosure.

But if it’s released from the cocoon early, the butterfly won’t have the strength to fly and survive. It must struggle to become strong. As you stare at the butterfly, considering its beautiful wings, you start to breathe into your own bodily awareness. You notice the many places where you’re holding tension and feeling stiff and sore. Perhaps you have also been flapping your metaphorical wings, becoming something new.

Grieving Tools — The Pain Paradox

As you might remember from chapter 2, pain can be a pivotal part of the meaning-making process. When paired with reflection time, pain can help us learn about our core values and live a life in accordance with them.

Yet because we work in a field that values sacrifice and the pain that entails, therapists are also far more susceptible to what Freud would call the martyr complex, and what we refer to as hero/savior/sacrifice syndrome. The pain paradox explores the tension between pain as both catalyst for change and a state of prolonged suffering. Particularly in helping professions, suffering for our work is often framed as positive, meaningful, or altruistic. This harmful social construct can lead clinicians to stay in harmful jobs “for the sake of the clients” and sacrifice their own health in the process.

The pain paradox invites clinicians to question their social constructs around both pain and meaning-making. In the therapy room, the pain paradox is a tool that clinicians can use to help clients who are themselves engaging in harmful behaviors for the sake of “meaningful pain.” Let us explore how you can use the tool of the pain paradox as you navigate your personal struggles outside of session, and how to use this tool with clients inside the therapy space.

Client

Pain is not the enemy, nor is it to be avoided at all costs. Sometimes what brings clients to therapy is the erroneous idea that we, their therapist, can help them learn how to disengage with their feelings entirely because these feelings are causing them pain. Of course, the reality is that we can teach them distress tolerance skills to be present with their pain and their feelings so they can learn to listen to the important messages carried by their feelings.

However, clients can sometimes mistake pain for purpose. We see this frequently with our creative clients. So often the idea of the “crazy artist” takes hold of clients. Several of Justine’s clients were terrified of feeling better. They believed that their sickness and the distress it caused fueled their art. But the reality was that after going through treatment, these clients were all able to continue making amazing art, and in fact they did so with more frequency and focus. Another part of the process of working with these folks is helping them see that they’re full human beings who are more than just the art they craft.

Many fear that if they lose the art then they lose themselves and they no longer matter. However, in our experience, part of their healing journey entails exploring areas of their life outside of art. Eventually, they come to see their art as but an aspect or a planet within the vast cosmos of their lives.

Therapist

For many of us, the desire to make meaning from our own pain drew us to the field of psychotherapy. Most therapists have experienced some type of mental distress, whether it’s childhood trauma, an eating disorder, bullying, discrimination, or an abusive relationship with chemicals. For many of us, surviving this kind of pain was only the first phase of the healing process, with the second phase being meaning-making.

The pain paradox is a gentle invitation for therapists to carefully consider ways to cultivate meaning and joy outside the therapy field. Although our work as therapists is absolutely meaningful, it is also back-breakingly painful at times. If you don’t have other avenues or ways to make meaning and find purpose, you’ll find it even more challenging to take breaks from the field, regardless of how long such a break lasts, because you struggle to see the “you” outside the office. You need not try something life altering or huge. When Larisa was recovering from a severe case of moral injury, she began making playlists, an activity she had not engaged in since her college days. This small daily activity helped her to begin to reconnect with playful and creative energies outside her clinical and professional work.

The difficult message that Justine received was that her time as a direct-care therapist was coming to a close. After over a decade of work, and so many clients helped, she began to feel that her meaning-making was now to be found in the classroom, on the stage, and on the page. She experienced a great deal of pain as a therapist during the pandemic and the social justice uprising, but the pain invited her to consider where new meaning could form. The answer was that it was time to guide the next generation of clinicians and to hold the hands of those who are still in the trenches. As of this writing, Justine is currently working on the slow transition out of direct client care.

Due North: Self of the Therapist

One of the struggles inherent in walking the dialectic between the system and the individual is despair. In the case of moral injury, which is caused by a series of broken systems subjecting clinicians to harmful double binds, it can feel like there’s little or nothing for a therapist to do beyond retiring from the field. While this certainly is an option, we offer you another one: harm reduction and intentional activism.

As you may already know, the harm-reduction model of addiction recovery focuses on making small, actionable changes that mitigate abusing behaviors, rather than prescribing total sobriety. Our intention is to invite you as a clinician to assess the harm you’re currently facing in your career and how it’s affecting you. You can’t immediately change the systems in which you practice therapy, but you can make a concerted effort to mitigate the negative impact that these systems have upon you.

Some ways that you might limit the harm you experience include limiting the number of hours you work or the types of clients or clinical presentations with which you work. Perhaps you currently work in a place with an unreliable schedule, and that causes you distress; is it possible to have a more structured schedule? If you’re not being given time for breaks or lunch, is this a conversation you can have and a boundary you can set with your site supervisor? These can be small or large changes, but any change can go a long way to help mitigate the harm you’re experiencing.

Seven Lessons for Making a Meaningful Life: A Therapist’s Guide

Posted on June 29, 2023February 11, 2026 by Psychotherapy.net Team

What makes your life meaningful? It is a question that I first asked myself in my late thirties after my partner died, and all the way through the difficult mid-life years in my forties and early fifties. I have also put the same question to over 130 other therapists, academics, and advocates for better mental health on my weekly podcast.

What I never expected was how fruitful the question would be for my own personal development or how asking it to other therapists would change my life. So, what are the seven things I have learned from other therapists that I wish I’d known years ago? And how have they changed how I look at myself, how I deal with my own problems, and how I work with my clients?

The First Four Important Lessons for a Meaningful Life

1. Therapists need therapy so much that they turn it into their profession, and in this way, can be in it full time.

When I interviewed the psychotherapist, Terry Real (the founder of an approach called Relational Life Therapy), he joked that, “therapists need therapy so much that we turn it into our profession so that we can be in therapy all the time.” We laughed but it is true. I came from a family where no one ever talked about emotions. Now, I talk about them all day with my clients and in my spare time started a podcast where I speak about, guess what, feelings! “Perhaps we should pay our clients for everything we learn from them,” Terry added.

2. Your earliest childhood memory is the key to the work.

Galit Atlas is a psychoanalyst, faculty member of the New York University Postdoctoral Program in Psychotherapy and Psychoanalysis, and author of “Emotional Inheritance.” One of her techniques is to unpack the first memory of her clients. I have yet to use the technique with a client, but I took it to my own psychoanalysis.

I have two memories from the same day. The first one is coming into my parents’ room on Christmas morning but finding that my mother was not there. My father reminded me that she had gone to hospital to collect my baby sister. I would have, therefore, been two and three-quarters years old. Later in the day, my mother came back from hospital, and I remember going to her bedroom, wanting to show her all my presents but she was too tired and turned her back to me.

So, both memories were about her being unavailable — which was a surprise because my mother was always there. I would come home for lunch from school (and so would my father) and she tried to be there when my sister and I got home, but the memories spoke to how I got my physical needs met but not my emotional ones.

A few months after taking my first memory to my analyst, I had a healing dream about my mother’s return from the hospital, but this time she pulled back the covers and invited me into bed for a cuddle.

3. Don’t take things so personally.

My witness on “The Meaningful Life” was Olivier Clerc, founder of an international programme called Circles of Forgiveness. His journey started when he translated Don Miquel Ruiz’s book “The Four Agreements.” These include the advice: Don’t take things personally.

Unfortunately, because we are at the centre of our own lives, we imagine that the actions of other people are all about us. In reality, we are often just collateral damage. Clerc got me thinking because he flew from France to Mexico to do one of Ruiz’s workshops because he wanted to meet someone who did not take things personally. I have spent a lot of time since the interview meditating on what it would be like to meet someone like that or to be like that myself. It would certainly make forgiveness easier.

I have started using one of Clerc’s forgiveness rituals. I ask my clients to look into each other’s eyes and repeat after me four sentences: “I’m sorry.” “Please forgive me.” “I love you.” “Thank you.” I have been surprised by how powerful this simple ceremony is — nearly every time one or both clients have cried. Secondly, it is not important as I imagined specifying what you are sorry about.

4. Understand your navigation principle.

When you have a difficult decision to make, how do you make your mind up? Matthew McKay, who is a clinical psychologist, couples therapist, and professor of psychology at the Wright Institute, talks about “Navigation Principles.” The most common ways of deciding “what next” include avoiding pain; going for power, control, or wealth; choosing the safe option or what other people want.

Some people try to be rational. Most of my clients have no idea what their navigation principle might be, but with a little delving, come up with answers that speak to their core beliefs. For example: growth, love, and curiosity. It helps them have confidence in their choices and when facing a blank page to know in what direction to head.

How to Mine the Unconscious Mind

5. I can ask my unconscious a question.

I can’t remember my training as a marital therapist covering the unconscious — beyond in passing. It was more focused on the argument between the couple on the couch in front of me, making certain both parties were heard, and helping negotiate change. So, the unconscious remained a shadowy presence, I never really thought I could ask mine a question until two different guests came up with two radically different techniques.

Machiel Klerk is a licensed mental health therapist, founder of the Jung Platform, and the author of “Dream Guidance: Connecting to the Soul through Dream Incubation.” Instead of waiting for a dream that might shed light on a current dilemma, he suggested putting a specific question to your dreams before going to sleep.

Meanwhile, William Pulle n, a London-based psychotherapist, suggested asking my jog (or in my case the brisk morning dog walk) for advice when I was stuck or directionless. With both techniques, the conscious mind is off-line, and the unconscious has time to work on the underlying dilemmas. I have put together four steps from their advice and my own experiences to pose to clients:

Ask open ended questions. These start with who, why, what, where, and when. For example: what might be the consequence of putting all my money into buying this apartment? Rather than a leading question, would it be a mistake to buy this apartment?

Ask one question at a time. It sounds obvious because you don’t know which one your unconscious is answering, but this is something that I have to stop my clients doing with each other all the time. Another trap, according to Machiel, is asking a plural question for example, about “limiting beliefs.” A better option would be, “what belief is limiting me the most at the moment?”

Split big questions into smaller ones. With big questions like health issues, job changes, and finding love, it is better to start with diagnostic questions and then ask about steps along the way.

Look out for answers from other places. Once you have started meditating on a well-formulated question, there are others ways beyond dreams and exercise through which your unconscious can speak to you. There is synchronicity (meaningful coincidences) and one that works for me: certain sentences in a book I’m reading or a podcast that I’m listening to seem to light up or trigger a small click in my brain. Sometimes, they don’t always make immediate sense — a bit like a dream — but I write them down and look at them. More times than not, they are a response to my question.

Being Brave Opens the Door to Insight and Change

6. Be bolder.

It is easy to get stuck in a groove with clients, using the tools that have been proven to work and not questioning your underlying beliefs. But listening to how other people work has made me think about my own practice. I will give two examples.

Back to Terry Real who highlighted failing strategies that couples use to resolve disputes. These include, “I’m right and you’re wrong.” Neither Terry nor I have ever had a couple where one partner stopped a fight and said, “You know what, I’m wrong about this.” (If they feel they are losing, they just throw in some other dispute where they might have a stronger case.) While I have allowed couples to continue an “I’m right and you’re wrong” dispute — in the hope of finding a breakthrough into a third way — Terry just calls the game out straight away and saves lots of time. I immediately thought, “I’m fed up too.” I need to be braver and speak up.

The second guest who encouraged me to be bolder was Avrum Weiss, a psychotherapist and author of “Hidden in Plain Sight: How men’s fear of women shape their intimate relationships.” When Weiss’ male clients talked about their relationship problems, he was surprised not only to discover they had not told their wives about their grievances but gave him a look that suggested he was crazy to even to suggest it.

“You don’t casually suggest to another woman that he’s afraid of a woman,” he told me. “But each time I did, I got the same response. They would get defensive, but very quickly I would see the idea go across their face and they would say how that made a lot of sense.”

When I thought about my own experiences in the therapy room, I have spent 35 years seeing couples. I have often seen the dynamic where the man would go to extraordinary lengths to avoid his wife’s anger, but I had never had the courage to call it out. But since meeting Weiss, I had been bolder and helped several men understand their fear of being controlled by their wife and why they need her so much.

Between Trigger and Reaction Lies Choice

7. Mine the golden gap.

When an idea comes up from multiple guests, it must be good. In a nutshell, the idea is that we have automatic reactions to conflict or adversity — normally learned as a child (which sort of worked). For example, we will shut down, go on the attack, people please, get defensive, distract ourselves. The list is endless. We don’t consciously choose this reaction; it is like a whistle goes off and before we know it the train has left the station. We are stuck in the same reflex action and there is no going back. As I say to my clients, when the train has left the platform, have you ever seen it reversing back?

So the golden gap is the moment between trigger and reaction. With practice, you can stretch the gap. “Take a deep breath. Where is the feeling? What is it? Please name it.” At this point, the gap has become large enough to make a choice — and therefore has turned golden. Yes, you might want to do the same old actions, but you know where that ends. What might your well-adjusted adult self (rather than your frightened child state) decide to do? How can you experiment and break the old patterns?

***

These days, and perhaps most influential among the seven lessons is the golden gap technique which I use with all my clients. The feedback is that this is one of the tools which brings the greatest reward for their relationship. I am currently working on using it in my own relationship too.

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