The Art of Effective Couples Therapy: Negotiation, Compromise, and Sacrifice

As a therapist, the language I use can shape the way clients navigate their relationships as it provides a framework where thinking and behaving can take place. In couples therapy, my main goal is to help clients cultivate, commit, and execute on their shared vision. Over the past two decades, I have found that helping clients redefine negotiation, compromise, and sacrifice is essential for fostering healthier dynamics and building a sustainable strong foundation for the future of their relationship. These are terms that are often misunderstood yet widely used and profoundly impact the quality of their relationships.

Clarifying Expectations: A Foundational Practice

In casual, low-stakes situations, many individuals tend to effectively clarify expectations. For example, hiring someone to paint a house involves clear discussions about the scope, timeline, and payment. Yet in personal relationships, particularly romantic ones, expectations are often unspoken or assumed.

Couples often bring different goals, values, and assumptions into their shared lives, which can lead to misunderstandings unless explicitly addressed. When the vision for a relationship is not clear and agreed upon, it can leave room for mismatched priorities regarding resources, which could lead to further conflict in a relationship. For instance, one partner may dream of moving to a new city, while the other wants to stay near family. Similarly, one might desire children, while the other feels uncertain or uninterested. Financial priorities can also differ, with one valuing saving for the future, while the other emphasizes enjoying life in the present. On a more conceptual level, one might define privacy and secrecy very differently than the other person.

These principles, however, extend beyond romantic relationships and can help clients navigate workplace relationships, friendships, and family connections. Making these distinctions is critical. Specifically, when working with singles or couples to carve out their shared vision, understanding these concepts is essential to fostering healthy dynamics and avoiding long-term resentment. Addressing these needs, visions and expectations thoughtfully is crucial, as they directly influence resource allocation and life priorities.

Negotiation: A Daily Practice

Negotiations are what we do daily to navigate life when we are partnering with someone (where to go for dinner, who picks up the kids, etc.). Usually the stakes are not as high depending on the sensitivities within a coupledom, and some couples might not even call it that. When I bring up the word negotiation, depending on the cultural context of the clients, they might be surprised and sometimes even offended thinking: this is not the language we use in loving relationships, and it is best to be left to the business world where transactions happen.

The way I expand on the concept of negotiation and help clients to come around, is to explain that, in any relationship, there are certain currencies involved (again, going back to the language we use, many people think that currency is only applicable to monetary entities). Based on social exchange theory, we are all looking for an exchange of some sort when we are interacting with the outside world. This might not be conscious or intentional; nonetheless, it is always present.

Therapeutic Insight: Negotiation provides clients with a sense of agency, it helps individuals learn how to take accountability over what they desire in life, show up for it, and articulate it with their partner. Otherwise, we all have seen cases that one went along with the other only to find out somewhere along the way that “this is not what I wanted,” while the other person didn’t have a clue. As a therapist, I can coach clients to approach these conversations as opportunities for collaboration, encouraging them to listen deeply, receive what is offered, and then formulate their responses in a thoughtful and authentic manner.

Compromise: Balancing Individual and Shared Needs

Compromise often involves ensuring both partners feel their needs are valued. This step helps partners identify areas of alignment and divergence, usually without resorting to defensiveness or rigidity. It requires mutual give-and-take and intentionality to avoid one-sided concessions. It is not always meeting in the middle as it is believed to be, because healthy relationships are not based on equality or 50/50 as many of us working with couples would agree. They are based on equity where everyone involved is satisfied in their own ways.

Therapeutic Insight: It’s crucial to remind clients that compromise doesn’t always mean equality in the moment—it’s about creating equity over time. I encourage them to assess whether the “currencies” being exchanged feel worthwhile and sustainable.

Sacrifice: When It Becomes Unhealthy

Sacrifice often involves one partner giving up something significant, which can lead to resentment if done without open communication or equitable acknowledgment. For instance, one relocates for her partner’s job, leaving behind her career and community while not having a chance to assess her own needs in short and long term and without continued communication as things evolve with this move. Without mutual appreciation and a plan to address her needs, resentment may develop, impacting the relationship’s health.

Therapeutic Insight: Help clients reflect on whether a potential sacrifice aligns with their values and long-term goals. Sacrifice should be a conscious, collaborative decision rather than an expectation.

Cultural Context and Relational Dynamics

When I’m talking about relational dynamics, I am also talking about what defines them for individuals and couples. Cultural, religious, and gendered expectations often influence how clients perceive negotiation, compromise, and sacrifice. For one couple, sacrifice might be the way to go (and might even be expected of a good wife) and for another, it might just be a figure of speech while in reality the description of the dynamic resembles a negotiation pattern for the therapist.

I have found that exploring these factors is essential to helping clients identify patterns that may unconsciously shape their behavior. Meet them where they are and empower clients to define their relational values and vision, rather than defaulting to inherited scripts.

Some Practical Applications for Psychotherapy

These are some practical ways I have incorporated the above strategies into my clinical work with couples:

With singles, I encourage clients to clarify their non-negotiables and flexible areas before entering relationships. This self-awareness equips them to negotiate and compromise effectively when building connections.

With couples, I guide each to regularly revisit their shared vision—perhaps at the start of a new year or on anniversaries. This practice ensures their goals evolve alongside their individual and collective growth.

In the broader context, I try to apply these principles to familial and professional relationships, helping clients navigate complex dynamics with greater intentionality and respect.

Case Application

Rory and their kids loved skiing, while Hunter despised it—not just the sport but the cold and all the logistics involved. Before they had kids, this wasn’t an issue. They simply did their own things in winter, and no one thought much of it. However, once their kids reached skiing age, the dynamic shifted. Rory planned to spend every winter weekend skiing with the kids, and Hunter realized what this would mean for him.

In the first year of ski school, Hunter found himself waking up at six in the morning to help pack lunches, wrangle the kids’ gear, and drive 80 miles to the mountain. Rory and the kids thrived on this, but Hunter was miserable. He felt he had no options: staying home without a car wasn’t fulfilling, and joining in was even worse. To Hunter, it all felt like an unwelcome sacrifice.

Entering the second year, Hunter and Rory recognized that their dynamic wasn’t sustainable. They began to negotiate in earnest. Rory explained her perspective:

I grew up skiing; it’s my passion. It’s really important to me to pass that on to the kids because they love it too. I hardly get to see them during the week, and bonding with them over skiing feels really meaningful. I don’t want to give this up, but I also don’t like feeling guilty all the time. I know this isn’t working for you. Is there a way we can make this work for both of us?

Hunter shared his struggles and feelings of resentment, and through multiple conversations and creative problem-solving, they found a solution that worked for both of them. Rory took over 90% of the labor involved in ski school, including handling all the gear and logistics. Hunter agreed to pack lunches and have dinner ready when they returned. Rory bought a second car, so Hunter had options on weekends. Hunter decided he would join them for a few ski trips each season for family bonding, but otherwise enjoyed rare, unstructured time to himself—a precious commodity as a stay-at-home dad.

This arrangement worked beautifully. Rory was able to share her love of skiing with the kids, which was incredibly meaningful to her, while Hunter gained much-needed personal time and no longer felt trapped in a situation he despised. Hunter and Rory’s story illustrates how healthy compromises work; neither partner “won” nor “lost.” Instead, they both gave a little and got a little. Through negotiation and compromise, they reached a solution that felt equitable and allowed them to move forward with confidence and mutual respect.

***

Negotiation, compromise, and sacrifice are integral to shaping a life together. By teaching clients to differentiate these concepts, I hope to empower them to engage in relationships as active participants rather than passive followers. Healthy relationships require adaptability, mutual respect, and clear communication. Whether clients are building a life with a partner, strengthening family bonds, or deciding on a career path, these tools equip them to foster meaningful, sustainable connections. As a therapist, my role is to guide clients in creating these shared visions with intention, ensuring their relational choices align with their values and aspirations.

Questions for Thought and Discussion

  • How does the author’s work resonate with your own couples therapy?
  • Which of the three elements of change do you use in your clinical work with couples?
  • What additional or different interventions do you use with couples?
  • How would you have worked differently with Hunter and Rory?

Healing the Wounds of Trauma through Play

At the time of the disclosure described below, four-year-old Sam, was living with his maternal grandparents. His mother, who had a lengthy history of alcohol and drug problems, was living elsewhere with her boyfriend, and would come to the grandparent’s home to change her clothes and visit briefly with Sam. When the child made his disclosure to his grandmother, she shared it with the family therapist, who then reported it to the Division of Family and Children Services (DCFS). Upon their investigation, Sam’s grandparents became his foster parents. Sam was seen once by a DCFS-referred clinician who reportedly utilized physical restraint, compelling the grandparents to discontinue services. The family therapist referred Sam to me for play therapy. That therapeutic work is described in the following narrative.

A Story of Abuse

Sam and I were playing with his ocean animal rescue toys in our playroom. I had just prepared some snacks and drinks for us. Sam asked me if I wanted to smell his butt. I said, “no!” He said, “I put my finger in my butt, and I smell the stinky,” and laughed. I jokingly told him he would have to wash his hand because of germs and how they could make him sick. Sam said, “I stuck my head in the potty, Daddy told me to do it.” I asked him to show me, so he went to the potty, lifted the lid and put his head down into it. I asked why he did that, and he said, “Daddy told me to and put his hand in my butt. I asked, “Why did Daddy do that,” to which he responded, “I don’t know why Daddy put a toy in my butt.” I asked what toy it was, and he said it was his Daddy’s toy. I asked Sam what it looked like, and he said, “It was a dinosaur, a brown one.” I told Sam if that was true it wasn’t nice, and Daddy should not do that. Sam quickly responded with, “I’m teasing.”

We sat together in silence while I tried to process the information. Then Sam said, “It’s the truth. Nana and I didn’t like it.” I said, “I bet you didn’t. I wouldn’t like that either and it is not OK. If anyone did that to me, I would tell them no and then tell Papa so he could help keep me safe.” I hugged him and told him I was sorry this had happened to him, and it was not OK. He continued to play, and I joined him. After a while I went into the bathroom to cry and gather my emotions.

After Sam’s Papa (his grandfather) got home from work, I told him what Sam said in private, and suggested we did not overreact and just hear what he had to say. I asked Sam if he wanted to share with Papa what he told me about the potty. Sam told Papa, “Daddy put my head in the potty.” Papa said, “Well that is not nice.” Sam said, “Daddy put a dinosaur in my butt.” Again, Papa said, “That’s not nice either, Daddy should not do that.” Sam said, “I didn’t like it!” and I cried hard.” With outstretched arms, Papa told him to come to him, and Sam ran over. Papa cried with Sam, hugging him, and I joined them for a group hug. We all cried. We told Sam he was safe now and it was good that he told us so we could make sure this never happened again. Papa repeated what I said, and Sam leaned out of the hug looking at our faces, cried and hugged us both.

Creating a Safe Environment

Appointments were mostly held on Saturdays or Sundays when no other children were present to reduce the “clinical” feeling and to differentiate the building and the playroom from the previous treatment facility. Following each appointment, the family transitioned to a more spontaneous, non-therapeutic activity to put closure to the session. Having an awareness of what would happen after an appointment helped Sam know there was an end to playtime.

In my clinical experience children processing trauma must process their story (I call it The Twist) from all three perspectives: victim, aggressor, and hero/rescuer. Sam was no exception, and his therapy began in earnest.

My initial appointments with Sam, who was accompanied by his grandmother, focused on establishing the playroom as a safe and fun place, and letting him experience the personal power of coming and going. I never separated grandmother and grandchild, always including her from day one.  

Sam, his Nana, and I often began in the sand tray room. He would chase us around the room with the smelly ghost in his hand. Over several sessions Scooby-Do and his cast of characters joined the smelly ghost. The smelly ghost (held by Sam) was joined by a witch (held by Nana). The witch would fly around the room and scoop up Little Scooby (Sam) who could not cry for help. (How symbolically perfect to represent a nonverbal child at the time of the trauma.)

Nana and I would model alternative responses for Little Scooby: fight, scream, hit, call for help. She, along with a designated good witch, would take the bad witch to rescue Little Scooby. Sam would laugh hysterically and repeat the story as we continued to model different outcomes. One day, the smelly ghost took Little Scooby and flew out of the playroom down the hall into another playroom. Nana and I took our figures and followed! Sam had made the leap from symbolic to experiential!

Sam entered preschool that Fall, and his Nana was providing added support by driving him to and from school. One evening I received a frantic phone call from Nana stating, “Sam’s going backwards!” She added that she had volunteered to help on the school playground daily and on the first day, when it was time for her to leave and for the kids to go into the classroom, Sam ran to her wanting to leave with her saying, “Don’t leave me here Nana, I want to stay with you.” The teacher came and tried to grab Sam’s hand. Sam hid behind me. She tried again and Sam ran from the playground across the field toward the road. The teacher ran after him, and Nana yelled for her to stop, saying, “You are scaring him!” She stopped and I walked towards Sam telling him, “Come to Nana, I am not leaving.” He stopped running. When Sam finally calmed down, all three entered the classroom together. Nana remained in the back of the class until he was OK with her leaving.

When she finished her story, I said. “What more could you ask for? He did everything we have modeled in the sand tray for the past several weeks. He protected himself. He fought. He ran. He cried for help, and you rescued him!”

Taking it Home

Through his transference to his grandmother at home, Sam worked through incidents where his mother had failed to protect or had injured him. As Sam and Nana were building a snowman in the yard, for example, Nana went to brush the snow from his face. Sam flinched and withdrew.

After he flinched, she asked, “Did that scare you?” He nodded yes. “I’m sorry baby, I was just wiping the snow from your face. I didn’t mean to scare you.” He hugged her. Nana told Sam she loved him; he said, “Love you” and went back to building the snowman.

Sam recalled an incident at the kitchen table where his mother hit him on the mouth and drew blood. Nana was present but unable to intervene. Nana responded, “I’m sorry that happened to you Sam. Nana and Papa will not let anything like that happen to you again.”

After an extended visit with his paternal grandparents, getting Sam to sleep was a continual struggle. One evening, Sam became verbally and physically resistant to going to bed. He lost touch with reality and began physically attacking his grandparents. His grandparents placed themselves in a “safe” room. When Sam attempted to enter and could not, they reinforced the need to be safe. This broke the trance state and Sam began crying. His grandparents were able to provide him with comfort and safety. A powerful healing moment of play that would not have occurred in the playroom.

The Playroom

Sam’s most intensive work was done within the safety of the playroom. In role play with Sam and his grandmother, he worked on resolving the issues with his mother. He and his Nana had captured a bad person (me) and placed them in jail. Sam, sword in hand, was guarding the prisoner. Periodically, he would reach into the cell and poke the prisoner with the sword. Sam wearied and handed the sword to his Nana. While he rested, he would signal her to poke the prisoner. Nana asked him why when the prisoner was not doing anything and he responded, “Because you are my very best friend.”

The emotional level of the play suggested it was time to address the trauma he experienced with his father and have his grandfather join the play.

The play themes evolved from the sand tray to a psychodrama where we changed back and forth between witches, vampires, ghosts, werewolves, and zombies on command. Papa when directed would die and did so many times. Sam would play and replay a scene where the vampire would come out at night to bite him. It was gut wrenching to watch this little boy, eyes shut making mouth movements like an infant with no teeth to protect himself in his fight.  

It was intense and physically exhausting as four-year-olds with imaginative powers can be. Because vampire’s sleep by day, we would use the light switch to symbolize day and night to break the trance and regulate his high arousal level. Sam incorporated the light switch into the play quickly and was soon regulating his arousal level by himself.

In his final reenactment, our little vampire was in a sleeping state via light switch. His grandfather had carried him back to the therapy room and laid him on a cushion of pillows. Sam, pretending to sleep, had been lying peacefully and safely in his grandfather’s arms, a smile on his face. Sam jumped up from this peaceful state, grabbed his bottom with both hands and began to shout “A vampire bit my butt. A vampire bit my butt!” In the play the grandparents slew the vampire, and in the present, they reassured him they would protect him and keep him safe.   

Cops and Robbers/From Victim to Hero

In a later phase of our work, therapy took a new direction when Sam and Papa (the good guys), weapons in hand together went looking for the bad guys, (Nana and I). The bad guys were caught and jailed for lengthy periods of time while the good guys did their thing. We would be released to steal things so the good guys could catch us, return what was lost, and put the bad guys away.

Sam’s psychodrama shifted a final time when he incorporated his Nana, Papa, and I into his force of personal power.

When Sam’s play dropped in intensity to a symbolic level, and the family became busy with other things in the community, appointments decreased in frequency. The grandparents had knowledge and understanding of trauma triggers and how they manifested. They had demonstrated many times over the ability to handle traumatic reactions. The treatment ended by mutual agreement.

***

Since this writing, Sam has been legally adopted by his grandparents. He is secure in his attachments to them and surrounded with love, safety, and understanding when trauma triggers activate him. Sam is loving and caring for people and animals, which are his passion. He occasionally has anxiety but has learned that handwork, artwork, playing with figurines, board games, and card games calm him and bring him joy. He talks about his feelings freely and handles feeling overwhelmed by separating himself from whatever it is or requesting quiet time as needed.

We knew immediately after one session with play therapy this was the right treatment for Sam. We are grateful we found the right kind of therapy with Play therapy!

Jessica Kitchens on the Clinical Needs of Autistic Adults

Lawrence Rubin: I’m here today with Jessica Kitchens, who describes herself as a conscious, inclusive, Indigenous and artistic leader dedicated to enhancing the lives of others through collaborative efforts. She also describes herself as Autistic, Indigenous, wife, mother of five, CEO, therapist, consultant, author, trainer, board certified cognitive specialist, addiction specialist and neuro diversity advocate. And of course, she is a clinician. Hi Jessica, thanks for joining me.
Jessica Kitchens: Glad to be here, Lawrence.

By Any Other Name-Late Identified Autism

LR: Let’s begin with terms. What is a late identified Autistic?
JK: Late identified Autistics are individuals that have been Autistic their whole lives but may not have been recognized as such because they have developed high masking capabilities. They decided that it was better for them to adapt certain behavioral patterns in order to fit in. It is something they have come to do automatically. They don’t know why; they just knew that they needed to. Later on in life, they recognized that this method of fitting into social norms, while self-protective, also came with a high cost. They begin to struggle as the demands of adulthood kick in, so to speak. Sometimes, they become aware of the burden of masking their own struggles when their child is diagnosed.
LR: late identified Autistics are individuals that have been Autistic their whole lives but may not have been recognized as such because they have developed high masking capabilitiesThe ability to recognize and then mask difficulties seems to be an advanced coping skill, but a very demanding, and perhaps tiring one. Do they reach a tipping or breaking point?
JK: Absolutely! There’s a lot of wear and tear that goes into high masking because of the psychological and emotional energy expenditure. Many of these individuals cope with masking by abusing substances or through process/behavioral addictions like gambling, shopping, and gaming, to name a few. That’s sometimes why they end up coming to see me, unless they are referred by family members or their employers or school personnel suggest it. But others simply burn out or shut down.
LR: I imagine they may also present with anxiety, depression, and/or substance abuse. But I can also see a therapist missing the Autism if they either don’t look for it or are not trained to look for or assess it.
JK: Absolutely. There are a lot of misdiagnosed individuals out there walking around with a higher proportion of them being female, but there are high masking males out there as well. These individuals may be diagnosed with bipolar disorder because the dysregulation can come out sometimes as mania, or they present symptoms of borderline personality disorder. I was personally misdiagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder.
LR: these individuals may be diagnosed with bipolar disorder because the dysregulation can come out sometimes as mania, or they present symptoms of borderline personality disorder
What are some of the reasons that a clinician, especially one that is non-Autistic, might miss the Autism diagnosis?
JK: Unfortunately, this is a common problem. We have a lot of professionals out there that are really good at what they do, but they have not had adequate or up-to-date training on what Autism now looks like, because they’re still looking at very old stereotypes. It wasn’t even in the DSM until 1980, and even then, they still had a very distorted view of what it was.It’s only now that Autistic researchers are coming out and talking about their own lived experience and we’re finally changing what the diagnosis looks like because there’s a lot of what I would call iceberg Autistics out there. They’ve masked for so long and kept a lot of this stuff underneath. Therefore, a lot of clinicians are over-relying on stereotypes and media representations of lower functioning, higher support needed individuals like Rain Man. They miss the diagnosis of Autism when they see someone like me, thinking something like, “you don’t you don’t look like my cousin who has Autism. So unfortunately, there are a lot of clinicians out there that are doing some harm because they do not have up-to-date training.
LR: there are a lot of clinicians out there that are doing some harm because they do not have up-to-date trainingSo up to date training would tell clinicians that Autism is far more, or far different than being able to count 496 matches on the floor, stimming, self-harming, or having real difficulties making eye contact, to name some of the more familiar symptom clusters. What are the new generation of trained clinicians looking for?
JK: A lot of times, these clients come in because of dysregulation, even though they may not use the term. They may find themselves easily dysregulated in their work environment or in their home environment. They may actually have a visceral, nervous system response to sounds and lights. And since Autism is a dynamic disability, they may struggle in their relationships because of difficulties with pragmatic communication. On a given day, these folks, me included, may have difficulty finding the simplest of words to use. When a clinician is trained to look for these subtleties, they are in a better position to ask the right questions.
LR: Are there benefits of first being diagnosed in adulthood?
JK: That’s a good question and one that a lot of them must decide for themselves. A formal diagnosis in certain settings, like school or work, can help them get accommodations, such as adaptations to the sensory environments, that can put them on par to where they can now be equal and function at a baseline level with some of their neurotypical peers. Sometimes they can get them without a formal diagnosis, but some work environments are exceedingly difficult in allowing that. And sadly, we still have a lot of ableism in work environments.For others not necessarily pursuing accommodations, formal diagnosis can empower them to re-consider their dysregulation, learn coping mechanisms such as mindfulness, and review their life in a way that now makes sense to them.
LR: sadly, we still have a lot of ableism in work environmentsWouldn’t we the want the newly diagnosed adult to be referred to a clinician who knows how to help this particular client?
JK: Absolutely, but unfortunately, there are clinicians out there that can do more harm than good if they don’t have the right knowledge to work with these clients. I’m very picky about who I work with because there’s a lot of nuances that go with the neurodiversity affirming framework, such as learning about the nervous system functioning of an Autistic adult.
LR: Have you seen any downsides to a person being diagnosed in adulthood with Autism?
JK: Within work environments, there are instances of ableism among managers or supervisors who work against accommodations. The problem can be institutional.
LR: So just as there are institutional racism and institutional homophobia, there is also institutional ableism?
JK: It’s heavy and it’s ingrained in all aspects of our culture. One of the things that I’m working on in my PhD research is decolonizing ableism by utilizing and looking at indigenous perspectives of Autism through my own and other tribes. I’m trying to view it through an indigenous and a decolonizing framework, because the Western medicine is entrenched with a lot of deficit-oriented stereotypes. It’s everywhere. It’s in our schools, it’s in our work, it’s in medical institutions. We do have capabilities. We want people to recognize that we are autonomous persons, and just because we struggle with certain skills, there are many things that we are still capable of, and many Autistic adults are quite gifted in many ways.
LR: How has being a late diagnosed Autistic influenced your professional trajectory and shaped who you are in the therapy room with clients?
JK: It’s changed everything. I was formally diagnosed a few years ago, but it was my youngest daughter of my five that was diagnosed before any of us, and now my youngest three are all formally diagnosed with ADHD and Autism. It’s one of those things that’s literally changed every facet of my life. Every conversation that I have with people is entrenched in this.The ways I review my childhood and how I view my future are now entrenched with this view which has also affected my research and PhD journey. I don’t ever see it going back. I’ve had to grieve a lot of my life, but there is no me without Autism because this is who I am. It explains so much. It explains all the things that I’ve probably struggled with my whole life.

Neurodiversity Affirming Intervention

LR: In the case of an Autistic adult, what is neurodiversity affirming intervention?
JK: A person-centered orientation seems to be the best for most of these clients. But knowledge and the understanding of certain Autism experiences like pathological demand avoidance or rejection sensitive dysphoria, goes a long way. So does using correct terms such as identity first language—using the word ‘Autistic,’ rather than ‘a person with Autism.’
LR:a person-centered orientation seems to be the best for most of these clientsWhat do you mean by saying that a person-centered approach is best?
JK: Meeting them where they’re at – a lot of times clinicians have this view that they need to fix people. That’s not what it is. You know? It’s more about matching that congruence and recognizing that you we are capable of so much beyond the narrow limits of what the diagnosis suggests. It’s about recognizing what skills can actually help us be the best that we can be as a person, whatever that looks like. Whether it’s mindfulness, EMDR, or CBT. It’s about grabbing from modalities of all types. Everybody’s different.It’s not about coming from a place of judgment. I don’t want to push my views on my client of what I think they need to be working on. I want them to have an idea of areas they want to grow in and using whatever tools and skills I have to help them get there.
LR: there is this misconception that people are being overly diagnosed, that we’re handing it out like candyAre there myths and misconceptions that clinicians bring into this work that hinders intervention?
JK: There is this misconception that people are being overly diagnosed, that we’re handing it out like candy. Clinicians who believe this go in with automatic blinders. In reality, Autism goes back generations in families, so a new diagnosis should not be that surprising or unlikely. And because these adults are bringing their children in for diagnosis, it makes sense to either formally or informally assess and perhaps even help that parent. And while it’s not a myth or misconception per se, internalized ableism on the part of the client or clinician, or both, can hinder the intervention process.
LR: Have you encountered resistance from some clients who are on the doorstep of the diagnosis?
JK: The only resistance that I’ve noted has not come from the clients themselves. It has been from their families because a lot of them take it as an affront to who they are or believe in some way that they caused it. And so again, that goes back to some internalized ableism. Sometimes, these clients come to me already knowing about the possibility. A lot of them actually did. Sometimes, it comes to them after I’ve planted seeds.
LR: the undiagnosed or unaware Autistic clinician is going to miss it in their clients if they’ve missed it in themselvesIs an undiagnosed Autistic therapist a potential risk to either neurotypical or neurodiverse clients? Or is the therapy potentially limited by a clinician who is unaware of – or resistant to – acknowledging their Autism?
JK: The undiagnosed or unaware Autistic clinician is going to miss it in their clients if they’ve missed it in themselves. I’ve been there too. I have to look back and reckon with the fact that there are some clients with whom I’ve missed important aspects of their experience because I wasn’t thinking about the possibility of Autism.

Transitions and Unique Challenges for the Autistic Adult

LR: We know that stress increases as life demands accelerate, so are older teens and young who have not yet been diagnosed at a greater risk?
JK:  It’s interesting that you ask that question because I was a co-researcher on a Delphi study on what independent living looks like to Autistic adults. And as far as moving out on their own or going to college or working, many of these young people start struggling all of a sudden, or at least far more than they had previously.They did well at home and well in school because there was a lot of structure and stability. But now all of the sudden they’re required to function on a higher level. Logistics are a different monster altogether such as paying bills and adapting to new, and complex sensory and demand environments.
LR: Is the diagnostic threshold different for teens than it is for adults?
JK: I would expect the clinician to be able to identify high masking, and to use multiple sources in the assessment of younger clients who may not be able to report fully. I think it’s often harder to diagnose a child because they can’t speak for themselves. If the clinician uses appropriate measures and asks the right questions, it can actually be easier because they can ask about the internal processes, not just your behaviors and what you do and what others see, but what the internal processes are.
LR: Can you think of a few assessment instruments off the top of your head?
JK: The Social Responsiveness Scale is one that was done on me. I felt like, man, that asked a lot of the right questions, and there was also a Sensory Profile that really nailed it, at least for me.
LR: many people on the spectrum actually have higher than average affective empathyWhat are some of the relationship and family issues that Autistic adult clients bring to you?
JK: There is an interesting challenge for Autistic adults called the double empathy problem. One of the stereotypes is that these people lack empathy, which is the furthest thing from the truth. Many people on the spectrum actually have higher than average affective empathy. The disconnect comes from alexithymia, meaning they may not be able to label that feeling, but they can feel it. A lot of them do struggle with Theory of Mind (ToM), also known as cognitive empathy. That’s the problem with necessarily putting yourself in the shoes of the individual and understanding their perspective.So, you might have two individuals with high affective empathy, but differences in their cognitive empathy. The double empathy problem manifests in, one or the other member of the couple or family member, not feeling understood. They might butt heads, which then leads to a lack of reciprocity. That’s one of those nuances that a non-neurodiversity affirming therapist might miss.
LR: What might be some of the challenges to Autistic parents?
JK: Parents also struggle with the double empathy problem. Some of the biggest communication struggles I had with my teen children were whenever we were coming from different places of reciprocity or understanding each other’s perspectives.
LR: What is internalized ableism?
JK: As a parent, it could be expecting an Autistic child to do something a non-Autistic child can do or expecting a partner to somehow be or act normally, without respecting their diversity and difficulties. That child or adult then internalizes that prejudice and may struggle unnecessarily, beating themselves up, instead of accepting certain limitations and learning effective coping skills.
LR: You identify as indigenous, and work with indigenous clients? Does Autism manifest differently among indigenous people?
JK: Absolutely. Here in Arkansas, I don’t have as many clients as I would if I was back in Oklahoma 20 years ago, which is where my tribe is, the Potawatomi. And we know the Māori in New Zealand have a word for Autism called Takiwãtanga, which means in your own time and place. They have a more positive frame of mind for Autistics.
LR: many Autistics have high affective empathy, and deep sense of justiceWe tend to pathologize differences, but I am now wondering about some of the unique skills and advantages associated with Autism, perhaps that a clinician could capitalize on.
JK: I feel like it’s different for everybody, but many Autistics have high affective empathy, and deep sense of justice. A lot of us are really hard-core advocates in general because of our empathy. It tears us up whenever somebody is being mistreated. Other than that, the noting of patterns. For me, it’s behavioral patterns. I was able to learn behavioral patterns early on to mask my differences, but it can also help me to note incongruences with my clients. We can also be quite analytic. Clearly, we have many broad capabilities, so stereotypes often simply fall short.
LR: Finally, what are some resources and organizations that clinicians can use to improve their identification and intervention skills?
JK: If you’re going to work with Autistics, you need to know about pathological demand avoidance, also known as persistent drive for autonomy, which is PPDA. PPDA North America is a useful resource for this, but there’s also NeuroClastic, which I believe is a 501 C3. They work the business side; working with businesses and hiring Autistic individuals and they do a lot of good. There’s also the Autistic Self-Advocacy Network.
LR: Is there anything I failed to mention, Jessica, or questions I could have asked?
JK: There are so many nuances to appreciate about this population, and it is so much more than reading the DSM when you work with these clients. You’re going to learn the most from individuals with lived experience and those who have entrenched themselves into Autistic research.
LR: On that note, Jessica, thank you so very much for your expertise and sharing your valuable time.
JK: No problem. I really appreciate it.

Teaching Clients Active Listening Skills to Improve their Relationships

One of the most common questions I am asked when people learn that I am a therapist is, “How can you listen to all those people?” What prompts that question is a fundamental misunderstanding of what it actually means to listen to another person. In my work, I strive to make my patients better listeners, not just better at self-expression.

It is imperative that we challenge the assumptions people make about what it means to listen. Truly listening to another person so that they feel heard improves the quality of conversation and enhances the opportunity for understanding. It does not guarantee agreement, nor does it necessarily entail problem solving or changing anyone’s mind. Unfortunately, it seems that these days, people are far more interested in talking than listening, even if no one is listening to them.

As one patient said to me, “Once we stopped caring about facts, I was at a loss about what to say. Why bother to listen if the loudest person in the room always wins?” This can lead to what feels like a forced choice between joining the argument or leaving the conversation. Given the cacophony of disinformation and vitriol infecting our lives, strong listening skills are more critical than ever if we want to strengthen our connections.

It takes effort to be a good listener, but with practice the results can be truly life changing. Learning how is a teachable skill and foundational to good mental and physical health. There are five foundational components of active listening.

Five Foundational Components of Active Listening

First, an active listener must have a genuine interest in the other person, a curiosity to hear what they have to say. Too often we think we know what the other person will say before they speak, so we spend our time preparing our comeback rather than listening to what the speaker says. Or we write people off as soon as we learn one thing we don’t like about them, and refuse to listen to anything else they have to say. Consequently, our world gets smaller, and we have less intimacy.

Feeling trapped in this dynamic is a common complaint about familial interactions. For example, one patient shared, “Before I’ve even taken off my coat, my father will tell me that I must be so happy with my job. It’s because he is happy that I went into law like him. I brace myself before I get there for his greeting.” After many failed attempts to have a more nuanced conversation, she no longer tries to dissuade him of his belief but is saddened by how superficial their relationship has become.

Second, active listeners understand that agreeing to listen does not assure agreement. This needs to be recognized by both the speaker and the listener. If my goal as a speaker is agreement, I must make that clear up front. When a patient tells me about a fight they had with their spouse, I use my words to express understanding of their hurt feelings, not to say they were right and their spouse was wrong. Whenever we frame a conversation as having a winner and a loser, the quality of the relationship suffers.

Third, active listening is actually hearing what the speaker has to say and trying to understand their needs. Too often people attempt to show they are listening by trying to solve a problem. This often feels patronizing and may devolve into an argument. For example, a patient of mine reports, “When I come home from a bad day at work, all I want is for my wife to listen, not tell me what I could do differently. Tomorrow, when I am rested and have some distance from the situation, I might be ready to listen to suggestions for how to do things differently, but at that moment I just want understanding. Is that too much to ask?”

One strategy that can be helpful in these situations is for the listener to ask, “Do you want to be hugged, heard, or helped?” By clarifying the unstated need of the speaker, the listener knows the desired outcome for the interaction and what will feel like effective listening to the speaker.

Fourth, active listening involves acknowledging feelings as well as facts, without conflating the two. There is a truism in psychology that anxious people can’t listen, to which I might add, neither can enraged people. Communicating that I understand the depth of a person’s emotional state is a necessary precursor to understanding what has upset them so much.

Recently, a patient called to share that she’d been diagnosed with breast cancer. Before I asked her the stage of her cancer or what her treatment protocol would be, we discussed how she felt hearing that she has cancer. Asking about her feelings was essential to providing care for her. Later we would brainstorm how she could get the best medical care possible, but until she felt heard she couldn’t process the onslaught of medical information her physicians were sharing with her.

Finally, active listening requires listening to ourselves as well as others. By setting a time limit or voicing discomfort if someone is using offensive language or yelling, allows us to take care of ourselves as listeners and increases the likelihood we will be willing and able to engage in active listening. When being a better listener, we will hopefully find ourselves in more meaningful conversations that will enrich our lives.

***

Active listening can make us feel vulnerable. Sometimes the divide is too great and ending the conversation or ultimately the relationship is the right decision. But, hopefully, more often our efforts to listen will increase our understanding of one another and bring us closer. In our fragile world we need to honor the power of listening.

Questions for Thought and Discussion

How important is it for you to “teach” your clients to listen effectively?

Which of the author’s five components of active listening is most resonant with you?

Can you think of one of your clients who would benefit from improved active listening skills?

Becoming an Accidental DBT Therapist

A Curious Professional Journey

I did not set out to become a therapist who utilized Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT). When I was in graduate school, I had hoped to become a therapist who worked mainly with married couples and families, which is where I put much of the focus of my training. I had taken a class that referenced DBT and had also heard what a nightmare clients with borderline personality disorder (BPD) were to work with. But since that was never going to be me (ha!), what did I have to worry about?

Turns out, quite a bit.

For my predoctoral internship I was matched with a clinic that specialized in working with families going through oversea adoptions. Often families who had successful adoptions would later discover that the children had attachment disorder. While at this clinic, I worked with various licensed therapists and families in a variety of modalities, including: individual work, EMDR, support groups, skills groups for the children and developmental assessments.

Attachment disorder is difficult to treat and the burnout rate among therapists who do this important work is high. The clinicians I worked with, and under, were passionate and gifted. I still bear a scar on my left arm from where a child who had become dysregulated bit me. In a conversation with my supervisor, he explained to me that many of these children with attachment disorder will grow up to be clients with BPD. This is not a population for the faint of heart, and while the success rate is not exactly through the roof, it was an important part of my development.

Fast forwarding to the end of my internship, I was out pounding the pavement, trying to find a job in the field without much success. A former classmate and friend of mine had recently interviewed for a job at a community mental health center. They were looking for an already-licensed therapist to train in DBT who was willing to work with BDP clients. My friend told me, “this job doesn’t pay for shit, so I’m taking a pass. Thought that you might be interested instead.” Funny right?

Despite the glowing recommendation from my friend, I applied. During the interview, the interviewer (correctly) noted my lack of experience with BPD. I remembered what my supervisor told me and responded that I had experience, I just worked with them earlier in the process when it was still seen as Attachment Disorder.

I never received feedback to know for certain if that’s what sealed the deal, but I had gotten the job. My friend had been right when he said it didn’t pay very much, but what it did offer me was training in DBT and that changed my life forever.

My Challenging Work with Sarah

For those not familiar with DBT, it is a skills-based modality with regularly assigned homework that incorporates concepts and practices drawn from mindfulness, Buddhism, Hegel, and basic methods of therapeutic validation. Many of these concepts are abstract, and often difficult for clients to fully grasp and embrace. It can be especially tough for those with developmental challenges typically associated with attachment and personality disorders.

For me to be able to explain them to these clients in ways that they could understand and implement in their daily lives, as well as during times of crisis, I really had to learn these concepts backwards and forwards, breaking each down to its essence.

One of my earliest clients, whom I shall call “Sarah,” was very hesitant to embrace these concepts. Partly, because they were difficult to understand, but Sarah had also been through a LOT of therapy before arriving at DBT. (DBT is rarely the first stop on a client’s therapy journey and as we say, “nobody gets to DBT by accident.”)

Therapy had yet to help her in any way she could appreciate. Her arms were covered in scars from many attempts at suicide and self-injury. Estranged from most of her family, she lived with her grandparents because no group home or assisted living facility wanted the liability risk. At the time, she proved unable to hold down a job of any kind. As such, Sarah’s world was small, and her human contact was limited to intermittent conversations with her grandparents, therapists, medical personnel, and DBT Group members during her frequent hospital stays.

During one session, we were talking about suicide and self-harm when Sarah stated that she was likely to die from suicide at some point, because what was the point of living if this was all there was to life? What would happen to her after her grandparents passed away? I replied that those were excellent questions. Her life as it was currently constructed was about survival and little more. Why would any therapist expect her to embrace such a life? For Sarah, being told that “things could always be worse,” was of little consolation. What was the point of staying alive when things could get worse?

One of DBT’s core concepts is referred to as “A Life Worth Living.” In essence, it asks the client what would have to change about their life so ideations like self-harm or trying to commit suicide would organically come off the table? Of course, we must survive before we can thrive, but what did thriving look like to Sarah?

Sarah said she wanted to be able to live on her own (or with occasional assistance that would come when needed), to have a job and her own money, and MAYBE (some pie in the sky stuff here) even have some friends! To her, that would be “A Life Worth Living.” I told her it was possible to have those things, but it is going to take work. DBT, like life, is like playing a sport. It requires clients to consider making choices that someone who could live on their own, hold down a job, and had friends would make. I challenged Sarah by asking, “are you making any of those choices right now?”

She reluctantly conceded that she was not. She could not fault her grandparents for not having faith she could live on her own; the paramedics were at their house at least once a month, if not weekly due to Sarah’s self-harm and suicide attempts. Her time in and out of the hospital and subsequent therapy appointments throughout the week, made it hard for her to hold a job.

I asked Sarah what she saw as the biggest obstacle to getting to her “Life Worth Living?”

“The cutting,” she said.

I agreed. If we could find other more skillful and adaptive ways to tolerate distress, the idea of her living on her own and being able to stay out of the hospital (and therefore able to work), seemed more plausible. That session was when Sarah committed to taking self-harm off the table.

This was no small commitment. Sarah used self-harm weekly for over ten years. Neither she nor I had any illusions that it would be easy for her. In a paradoxical way, self-injury had kept her alive as a coping skill on more than one occasion. She had a concept of how to resolve physical pain, while emotional pain seemed too overwhelming. In order for her to make this work, it was a matter of buying into DBT and its skills. Would the skills be as effective as a coping mechanism for her while keeping her safe? It was a leap of faith I was asking her to make – to put her trust in DBT and our therapeutic relationship. We were off.

Sarah’s Rocky Progress Forward

Gradually the ambulances stopped coming to Sarah’s grandparents’ house and while she never went to the hospital again, it was not a smooth, upward trajectory. There were setbacks, but one day without self-harm became a week which became a month, and then we were at her quarterly review. With her grandparents present, they attended many of Sarah’s appointments and reviews, Sarah proudly told them she had gone three months without hurting herself. She had been practicing her DBT skills (Distract, Self Soothe, Opposite to Emotion, Pros and Cons) and she had plans to share!

Sarah told them about wanting to live on her own and have a job. Her grandparents were pleased, surprised, and anxious all at the same time. These were big steps to take. While they praised Sarah for her efforts and progress it didn’t stop them from worrying. Sarah wasn’t derailed and instead offered to negotiate with them: if she could keep up this progress for nine more months and graduate from Stage 1 of DBT, would they support her? First in getting a job and second in finding a place to live?

As her therapist, I jumped in explaining that this seemed like a good Wise Mind (middle path between reason and emotions) compromise. Assuming she succeeded it would be a new experience with new kinds of stress and new opportunities for her to use her skills. If she could navigate holding down a job while using what she had been practicing, it would stand to reason she could do the same living on her own.

Her grandparents agreed to the plan – the smile it brought to Sarah’s face was one I hadn’t seen before. I wasn’t sure who was more excited at that moment, me or her! Being able to observe her having faith in herself and her future remains one of the most powerful experiences I have shared with a client. I did not know then what the future held, but I knew that DBT worked, and I could not turn my back on something that worked. From that moment on, I was a DBT therapist.

***

It’s been almost 25 years, throughout which I have worked with thousands of clients on achieving their “lives worth living.” I have seen clients who went from thinking about suicide almost every day to taking it completely off the table. Many were clients who now have healthy relationships and rewarding careers, just like Sarah. The work is challenging, and I am thankful for the support of a great team. The pride I take in seeing how hard these clients work on themselves is impossible to describe. They continue to make me a better therapist and I would not have it any other way.

Questions for Thought and Discussion

  • What serendipitous experiences have you had over the years that have opened interesting clinical doors for you?
  • In what ways are the core premises of Dialectical Behavior Therapy consistent with your orientation to therapy?
  • What are some of the limitations you have experienced or anticipate in the application of DBT principles and techniques?

Lessons in Tough Compassion and Male Resistance to Therapy

As a counselor and educator, I often find myself reflecting on representations of therapy in popular culture. One film that has stayed with me over the years is Good Will Hunting. While the movie is celebrated for its exploration of genius, trauma, and relationships, what stands out most to me is the character of Sean Maguire, the therapist played by Robin Williams. Sean’s approach to therapy, particularly with a resistant male client like Will Hunting, is a masterclass in what I call “tough compassion.”

The Unsung Hero

Sean Maguire is a humble community college professor and clinician. He is a quick-witted, grounded therapist who connects with Will person-to-person. His approach is in sharp contrast to the two other high-profile therapists Will is forced to see, who never get on Will’s level. Sean is the kind of professional whose impact might never make headlines but is deeply felt by the individuals he helps. How the film represents Sean’s work really resonates with me as a counselor. While we may not gain the accolades of more visible professions, or write noteworthy, high impact therapy texts, get featured on TV shows, and so forth, our work of helping individuals confront their pain, realize their potential, and find healing—is no less meaningful.

Sean’s humility and commitment remind me why I chose this path in the first place. The scene where Sean and Will end their time together with a hug speaks volumes of the positive impact that Sean had on Will, that Will can’t even begin to articulate. And Sean knows it. The two men say so much without saying anything; the impact the relationship had on both men on such a deep level is clear. While this particular element of the movie inspires me, it is the way in which the movie demonstrated male resistance to therapy, and Sean’s tough but compassionate approach with Will that I love.

Male Resistance to Therapy

We can see in Will’s interactions with the other two therapists that he made outrageous comments and disingenuous intimate disclosure meant to derail the session and throw the counselor off his game. But with Sean, he is able to roll with the resistance (in a very Milleresque manner). He doesn’t get offended or distracted by the resistance, but continues to redirect with humor and direct questions back to Will (except for when Sean choked Will out on their first session, we’ll ignore that for now). This approach, over time, with some vulnerable disclosures from Sean about his life, losses, and relationships, eventually get through to Will.

Will starts opening up and letting Sean into his inner world. He begins to trust Sean. Will’s reluctance to engage with Sean reflects a broader societal issue, and one that I have often noticed in my practice: men struggle to open up about their emotions or seek help. Cultural expectations of toughness and self-reliance can make vulnerability feel like weakness. Sean understands this resistance, and rather than forcing Will to conform to a traditional therapeutic model, he meets Will where he is—both emotionally and relationally.

Tough Compassion in Action

Sean’s approach is what makes him so effective. He doesn’t back down when Will tests his boundaries. In their first session, Will mocks Sean’s deceased wife, pushing him to the edge. Rather than retaliate or shut down, in a manner of speaking, Sean asserts his boundaries with firmness (although I don’t endorse choking out your client). “You ever disrespect my wife again, I will end you,” he says. This moment is not about anger or dominance; it’s about authenticity. Ultimately, it is what earns Sean respect and credibility in Will’s eyes.

Sean’s tough compassion also shines in his willingness to challenge Will. He sees through Will’s intellectual defenses and calls him out on his fear of vulnerability. In another memorable scene, Sean tells Will, “you’re terrified of what you might say. Your move, chief.” This balance of empathy and accountability is a cornerstone of effective therapy, especially with male clients who may be guarded or skeptical of the process.

The Impact of Authentic Connection

The turning point in the film—and in Will’s therapy—comes when Sean shares his own vulnerabilities. By revealing his grief, regrets, and imperfections, Sean shows Will that strength and vulnerability can coexist. This authenticity creates a safe space for Will to confront his own pain and begin to heal. For me, this aspect of Sean’s character underscores the importance of being real with male clients. Therapy is not about having all the answers or maintaining a perfect façade. It’s about creating a relationship grounded in trust, respect, and genuine care—a relationship that can serve as a foundation for growth — and being willing to change up one’s approach to therapy with male clients, using a tough technique that’s counterbalanced by compassionate.

Lessons for Counselors

As I reflect on Good Will Hunting, I’m reminded of several key lessons for working with male clients:

  • Meet Clients Where They Are: Understand their resistance and adapt your approach accordingly. Resistance to therapy among males is not the end of the road, but a bump. So, roll with the resistance, and redirect back to the client with honesty, empathy, directness, and humor.
  • Balance Empathy and Accountability: Build trust through compassion while challenging clients to confront their fears and defenses.
  • Be Authentic: Share enough of yourself to foster connection without overshadowing the client’s journey.
  • Value the Quiet Impact: Recognize that our work, though often unseen, can change lives in profound ways.

Sean Maguire may not have had the fame of his academic peers, but his influence on Will Hunting’s life was transformative. As counselors, we may not always see the ripple effects of our work, but Good Will Hunting reminds us that our presence, compassion, and persistence can make all the difference.

Good Will Hunting is more than just a story about genius and redemption; it’s a testament to the power of connection in therapy. Sean Maguire’s approach—grounded in tough compassion and authenticity—offers a blueprint for counselors striving to make a meaningful impact, particularly with male clients. The film is a poignant reminder that while we may not always receive recognition, the relationships we build with our clients can be life changing.

If you’ve ever wondered about the quiet yet profound impact of counseling, Good Will Hunting is a must-watch, and if you’re a counselor, it’s a call to embrace authenticity, persistence, and the transformative power of tough compassion.

Questions for Thought and Discussion

  • In what ways do or don’t you connect with the therapeutic concept of “tough compassion?”
  • What movie featuring a therapist has inspired you, and why?
  • What emphasis do you place on connection in your therapeutic encounters, particularly with male clients?

Through the Eyes of the Childlike Empress: Play Therapy with Refugee Children

A Newcomer to the Reception Center

Rayan’s story has so much in common with those of hundreds of children I (IC) have met over the years when I worked for a major humanitarian organization as a social worker and head of social services. When I met him at the Reception Center (“Center”) for asylum seekers and refugees, I knew nothing about what had happened in his life and that of his family before they sought asylum in Switzerland. I would simply receive a referral, confirm the possibility of hosting the family, record basic data, and read observations from professionals they met before me.

Rayan was a 5-year-old boy from a conflict-torn area, the eldest of four siblings. Before he had lived for short periods of time in many different locations where no one spoke his native language or shared his culture of origin. Reading the few notes about him reminded me that we might have to deal with a little “Hulk,” the fictional character from American comic books who, when angry, loses control and unleashes superhuman strength. Those notes read, “The child is unsettled, too reactive but too insecure, he is already behind on everything. He is unmanageable and dangerous to other children; he cannot be included in a formal preschool program or in group activities. He has already broken two chairs; we can’t risk having him with us.”

As had happened to me before, I had the feeling that much of the world around this child was constantly reminding him that he did not fit in, and that he had now accumulated a series of labels: clumsy, dangerous, unsuitable, incompetent, irredeemable. Can anyone be cumbersome, unlovable or lost at 5 years old? Some time ago, my colleague (and co-author of this essay) Claudio said to me, “It’s okay for a little child to have never won anything, but it’s not okay for others to make him think he’s already a loser.” Simple as it is, this statement resonates perfectly with what I believe.

What Rayan had (or had not) learned so far did not make it any easier for him in this new context. He had come to a safe place, but his life had not really improved his feeling of safety. Compared to peers, some opportunities were blurring in front of him: play and recreational activities, kindergarten, afternoons in the park with other children—nothing was within his reach yet. He was spending some time in adult contexts, discourses, and rhythms. A vicious cycle was in place: Rayan seemed to be inadequate for any activity, his learning opportunities were reduced, and consequently he became less and less adequate to benefit from future activities.

In my work at the Center and in international crisis contexts, I grasped that one of the main goals of an intervention with displaced children was to help them improve the quality of their lives, and that this depended on having more opportunities and choices in daily life. This is positively influenced by having the chance to acquire new knowledge and skills (1). As with other children, Rayan’s difficulties did not end once his family filed for asylum. On the contrary, the world seemed ironically to be closing down his possibilities.

Even Bastian Did Not Feel Worthy

With the parents’ consent, we started Child Centered Play Therapy sessions. While I was setting up the playroom in anticipation of Rayan’s seventh visit, I wondered what he would come up with today. Would he throw the toys all over the room? Would he want to hit me with the sword very hard? Would I have to use again all my skills and patience to get him out at the end of 40 minutes? Wait a minute, I thought. Was I too, treating him the ways others had in the past?

There he was. Mom holding his hand. They were late and she seemed to be dragging him a little. He was sullen. I couldn’t tell if he had put his sandals on wrong or if he was actually twisting his feet a little. The tight tank top highlighted his few extra pounds. He glanced at me furtively. His eyes were hazel and his hair short and very dark. No, this was not “public enemy number one,” not to me at least. While very dynamic and physically strong for his age, he was, after all, just a 5-year-old.

As I kneeled to greet him, Rayan immediately sat beside me. In that moment, I reflected that it is experience that changes people, and for Rayan, a key aspect of those experiences so far in his little life was being seen differently, a bit like Bastian in The Neverending Story, by Michael Ende. Bastian did not feel he could be part of the adventure. He was afraid of the unknown, of being laughed at, of not being right. He felt he was not brave enough, thin enough, and handsome enough, and yet in the eyes of the Childlike Empress, he suddenly saw himself reflected in a new way: the image of a young prince, proud, agile, and competent, cut out for adventure.

I think Rayan needed new eyes that reflected a different image of him, one that would allow him to put aside the collection of refusals and negative labels and instead be able to develop his full potential.

A Very Special Play Time

Before we started our seventh play therapy session, I repeated to Rayan, “We are about to enter the special playroom. In this room you can do almost anything you want, if there is something you cannot do, I will tell you.”

Even though we already had a few visits, perhaps he didn’t fully grasp what I was saying. I opened the door and this time, rather than walk in, he paused for a few moments in the doorway. I would have loved to tell him:

This is a space of exploration and knowledge where you can do what you want as long as it doesn’t hurt you. Here, you can be whomever you want despite what some think of you. This is your space, and I am not going to tell you what to do and what to change. In your own time, you can discover who you are, who you want to become, and have the adventures that make you feel your best. I am here for you.

All human beings need to be co-regulated, let alone this little boy about whom I knew so little, and whose future was so incredibly uncertain.

“You’re not sure what you want to do today. You’re interested in those swords. You’re intrigued by those little cars.”

Suddenly, Rayan fell to the ground in a very theatrical way. I tried to understand as quickly as possible what he was communicating to me. Feeling that I had been invited into an imaginary play, I rescued him.

“Oh no, something has happened! Here I am, putting a bandage on you.”

I applied a bandage to his ankle and Rayan stood up. He looked around, took a few steps and again fell to the ground.

“Oh, it happened again, here I am, here’s a special medicine,” I said.

After a few moments, he got up and suddenly said aloud, “Help!” and threw himself back on the ground, stretching his arms and legs. I was again ready to rescue him and to respond in the way that seemed most appropriate.

Although I have the recording of this session, I never counted how many times he threw himself to the ground. Possibly 20 times in half an hour. Each time I rescued him as if it were the first. Was he representing a real-life moment? Was he testing my ability to play along and my resistance? Was it a way to elicit attention, care, protection, or a combination of all these things? Trying to understand what children are communicating to us is important, but what matters most is that they feel that they can let go, be themselves, and “tell their wordless story” (2). I wanted to be predictable, attuned and accepting so that Rayan realized that he could feel fully himself and find in me a valuable ally. As with Bastian, he deserved the time and space to tell his story, to create a tailored world in which he was the protagonist.

Facing the Bah

I repeated the initial play session structuring formula before opening the door. We were in the eleventh session and by then, it was clear to him what I was communicating.

“There’s a bah,” Rayan said to me out of the blue.

I had no idea what it was, but from his tone of voice and facial expression, it sounded like something scary, so I showed fear. But Rayan was no longer the same destructive and insecure child. He had begun to recognize his monsters and was now able to face them. In fact, he harnessed a sword, ran in the direction of the front door, and started a thunderous battle. Then he came back to me and let me know that he had defeated the bah. Suddenly this character reappeared, but this time, Rayan entrusted a sword to me too (the smaller one!) and we became allies against the bah.

We fought again and again, the bah moved, disappeared and then returned, and multiplied. At one point, something happened that I perceived out of the ordinary for our play. After a long battle together, Rayan turned to me and told me that the bah was me, and he suddenly hit me on the leg. The script of this version of the story as I understood it, was different. I was surprised, and feeling a bit emotionally hurt, mistakenly exclaimed, “I am not the bah!”

In looking back on that moment, I now realize that Rayan probably felt ready to see the scary character materialize in front of him, so to expand the play, he inserted a variation. Either hypothesis is good news while the video showing my mistake (a definitely directive reaction in a non-directive setting) appears to be useful in our trainings, producing laughter and relieving students’ tension before mock sessions, but above all it raises reflections on the complexity of the methodology, the role and awareness of the therapist’s person and feelings.

As the session continued, Rayan repeatedly called for reinforcements like the police who nevertheless never arrived. It was the two of us who had to defend ourselves. He had very clear ideas: he placed a dollhouse in the center of the carpet and carefully closed all the doors and windows and approached with swords and guns. Something didn’t convince him it was safe, so he slipped under a toy worktable and invited me in, but unfortunately, I didn’t fit. He spotted a large transparent box and emptied it on the ground making a loud noise, sat in it and invited me in. I succeeded but could only stand. Rayan looked around and found a black mantle, made me sit on the ground next to the box, and covered both our heads. Here we were finally in our safe space.

We stay down there, two allies whispering in amusement. Rayan was satisfied, courageous and creative. The bah was not defeated yet but had found a worthy opponent who had an ally who believed in him and would never betray him.

Recovering Lost Play Time

Like other children, Rayan took part in the project “Recovering Lost Play Time” (3) that we developed within Reception Centers for asylum seekers and refugees. After 12 individual sessions he gradually took part in a small group where he had the opportunity to further develop his initiatives and interests, but also to join other children’s play and got involved in several activities.

Mindful that what happens outside the therapy room is just as important as what happens inside (if not more so), the aim of our program was to initiate processes to expand the range of positive experiences in as many contexts as possible including family, school and recreational settings (4).

Many children like Rayan who face migration or protracted difficult circumstances learn that certain events and conditions can make them feel helpless, incapable, fearful, inadequate, unworthy. For them, recovering lost play time means regaining a feeling of safety and possibilities and accumulating, in their own time, different and positive ways of perceiving the world, others and especially their own worth.

References

(1) Cassina, I. & Mochi, C. (2023). ‘Applying the therapeutic power of play and expressive arts in contemporary crisis work. A process-oriented approach’. In I., Cassina, C., Mochi, & K., Stagnitti (eds.) Play therapy and expressive arts in a complex and dynamic world: Opportunities and challenges inside and outside the playroom, Routledge, 6–27.

(2) Damasio, A. (1999). The feeling of what happens. Body and emotions in the making of consciousness, Harvest Book Harcourt, Inc.

(3) Cassina, I. (2023). ‘Recovering lost play time. Principles and intervention modalities to address the psychosocial wellbeing of asylum seekers and refugee children’. In I., Cassina, C., Mochi, & K., Stagnitti (eds.) Play therapy and expressive arts in a complex and dynamic world: Opportunities and challenges inside and outside the playroom, Routledge, 50–68.

(4) Cassina, I., & Mochi, C. (2024). ‘Polyvagal-informed practice to support children and caregivers in war: Toward the creation of a huge and reassuring playroom’. In P., Goodyear-Brown, & L., Yasenik (eds.) Polyvagal power in the playroom. A guide for play therapists, Routledge.

When Clients Don’t Want to Talk about Their Feelings

“My husband does these little things that get under my skin,” Naomi lamented as she sat across from me. “Like he chews his ice.” She scrunched up her freckled nose and clenched her fists. “I ask him not to. I ask him really nicely to please not chew his ice.” She shared some other things her husband did to annoy her. “Like, whenever I ask him a question, he’ll answer with a question. I’ll ask what he wants for dinner, and he’ll shrug and be like, ‘What do you want for dinner?’ I know I’m overreacting, but that makes me furious.”

Helping Clients to Put Feelings into Words is not Always Easy

“You feel furious,” I said. “I can’t stand that. I want to scream at him.” “What do you think it is about that question that makes you furious?” “I don’t care.” Her arms crossed; she was now tapping her foot against the carpet. “I don’t care why I feel like that. I just want to not feel like that. I want to stop being so pissed off at him.” This was not the first time Naomi and I had had this kind of impasse: me attempting to better understand her and her dismissing my attempt as a pointless intrusion. She wanted “tools” to change her feelings, specifically to help her feel less angry with her husband. “I get that you want tools to help you feel less upset,” I said, “and we can definitely talk about tools, but I think that in order to change your feelings, it’s important to first understand them.” “I don’t get that logic.” She straightened her posture. “No offense. I’m sure you help many people, but I’m not your typical client. I don’t want to sit here for 50 minutes whining about my problems. I don’t need a sounding board. I need tools to change my situation.” Over the weeks that followed, I obliged Naomi’s request to talk about tools, and we identified coping skills that had worked for her in other situations. All the while, I kept nudging her to further explore her feelings, my belief being that clients like Naomi ultimately benefit from developing greater emotional insight. Following one of my nudges, she indicated that her reluctance to talk about her feelings was based on her fear of becoming helpless. “I don’t want to turn into one of these whiners you see on TikTok. You know, these helpless women who can’t handle the slightest adversity and always complain about being victims.” “Well, goodness,” I said with playfulness, “I wouldn’t want to turn you into one of those women either.” She looked at me as I spoke these words, and we both laughed. This marked a turning point in our work together. I better understood her fear of becoming helpless, and she understood that that would never be my intention. Naomi started to more fully open up, and I began to sense that her anger over her husband was more complicated than she’d assumed. When she told me one afternoon how he had continued answering her questions with questions, I asked that standard therapist question: “How did that make you feel?” “Really pissed off,” she answered. “Beneath that feeling of being pissed off, what else did you feel?” “I don’t know.” She looked away and slowly shook her head. “I guess I felt like a monster.” “You felt like a monster?” I emphasized. “It’s like he’s afraid to disagree with me. I think he’s afraid that if he disagrees with me, I’m going to bite his head off. But I’m not like that. I’m really not so horrible.” “That must really hurt, to believe your husband thinks you’re this monster.” “It sucks.” Her energy had changed, her body now still, her head slumped forward. It now seemed clear that she had initially resisted exploring her feelings because what lay beneath her anger—what we would later describe as “shame”—was far more painful to accept than mere anger. The two of us sat in silence for several seconds. “I wonder if your husband knows that’s how you feel,” I finally said. “I don’t know. Probably not.” She looked up at me. “We should probably talk about it.” Naomi’s initial desire to learn new tools was not wholly misguided. Tools, or coping skills, are a necessary component of psychological health. However, coping skills often mitigate symptoms without bringing about lasting change. Sometimes simply adding more gasoline to a sputtering car doesn’t do the trick. Sometimes we need to look under the hood and figure out what’s going on. Naomi reported back the following week that she had had a heart-to-heart with her husband, the first such conversation they’d had in a long time. “We’re better. We’re not perfect. No relationship is perfect. But it’s good that we talked.” Questions for Thought and Discussion In what ways do you resonate with the author’s premise regarding feeling exploration? How do you work with clients who resist exploration of their feelings? In what ways might you have worked differently with a client like Naomi?

Navigating the Landscape of Spiritual Experience in Therapy

A Discipline Founded in Spirituality

One of my favorite literary quotes is from Shakespeare’s play Hamlet: “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.” It implies that there are mysteries and experiences beyond our understanding of the world. Hamlet says this after encountering his father’s ghost, which is considered a strange and supernatural event.

The Swiss psychiatrist, Carl Jung had many paranormal experiences including near-death ones and a series of visions. He wrote and painted extensively about these experiences. Though committed to practicing practical psychology, he pioneered a way of incorporating mysticism, like astrology and divination, in psychological work.

The American philosopher and psychologist, William James was one of the founders of psychology as a discipline. He identified four characteristics of mystical experience: ineffable, noetic, transient and passive.

All this to say that spiritual encounters are foundational human experiences.

The ACA’s Code of Ethics emphasizes a client-centered approach, meaning whether or not to discuss spirituality is ultimately decided by the client. The counselor should only explore this topic if it is relevant to the client’s concerns and with their consent, and counselors must acknowledge and respect the diverse spiritual beliefs of their clients, including those who may not identify with any particular religion.

I come from a culture with spiritual traditions ranging from Jewish to Pagan to Christian, often blending them. My family’s stories include tales of mysterious visitations (when her beloved grandfather died, my mother said he came to her in the middle the of the night) as well as rituals like baptisms, seances, lighting candles, and making offerings to saints. We also have a Freemason or two among my ancestors. I have engaged in a lifelong exploration of spiritual practices and traditions including Catholicism, Reformed Judaism, Taoism, Tantra Shaivism, and Dzogchen Buddhism so when it comes to spirituality, I’m open to whatever shows up.

Valuing the Client’s Spirituality

A non-binary client in their late thirties was facing a 4-year battle with malignant terminal cancer. They shared that their experience using psychedelics felt initially terrible and filled with suffering, but that when they were able to surrender, they experienced a sense of wholeness and bliss. I suggested we could use this psychedelic vision as a map for their journey going forward with illness and death, something they had not considered nor shared with their previous counselor.

Another client shared that traveling abroad enabled her to soften the edges of her identity and boundaries, allowing her to experience the world and other people with a sense of greater connection and ease. She strongly felt that travel was a spiritual experience for her that aligned with her Jewish roots.

A client who had struggled with intergenerational trauma and loss, practiced self-administering psilocybin alone and shared with me her insights. She described a mixture of experiences, from the more mundane to a profound connection through a vision of an ancestor whom she felt she actually embodied during a mushroom journey. This enabled her to connect with feelings of forgiveness for the suffering she endured.

Perhaps one of my most challenged clients identifies as a Christian. He struggles with an understandable dilemma: if God is good, why does evil exist? And why does God allow women he falls in love with to stay in abusive situations? Though I do not subscribe to his beliefs, I feel strongly that his questions are profound and worth exploring. It is, at times, difficult for me to refrain from remedying his dilemma through my more Eastern spiritual beliefs. Instead, I shared Anthony de Mello’s little gem of a book entitled The Way to Love. de Mello was a Jesuit who lived in India most of his life and wrote bracingly about God, Reality, and Love.

Clients who identify as Pagan or Wiccan, will often discuss their Tarot readings with me. I feel thankful for my familiarity with this tradition and genre of symbology that allows me to explore their concerns using a rich metaphorical language.

These are some of the questions I use when approaching clients’ spiritual experiences:

  • What do you feel or think this dream/vision is telling you?
  • Is there a message here that feels relevant to your life?
  • What troubles or reassures you about this experience?
  • If this experience was “your marching orders” as it were, what would those be?

When clients talk about noetic experiences, I listen closely for clues to discover and incorporate meaning in their experiences. The terrain of spiritual experience is as complex and multifaceted as human consciousness itself. Our therapeutic approach must honor this complexity—recognizing that spiritual encounters are deeply personal, often ineffable, and profoundly transformative. Just as Carl Jung and William James understood, these experiences transcend simple categorization, challenging our conventional understanding of reality and self.

My key therapeutic considerations include:

  • Embracing radical openness to clients’ spiritual narratives
  • Maintaining ethical boundaries while creating space for profound exploration
  • Recognizing spirituality as a potential source of meaning, resilience, and healing
  • Understanding that spiritual experiences are as unique as the individuals who encounter them

As counselor, my role is not to validate or invalidate spiritual experiences, but to provide a compassionate, non-judgmental container for understanding. Whether these experiences emerge through dreams, meditation, near-death encounters, or altered states of consciousness, they represent critical moments of potential insight and personal growth.

Critically, my approach must be rooted in the ACA’s ethical framework: client-centered, consensual, and fundamentally respectful of individual spiritual diversity. I listen not to interpret, but to understand—creating a therapeutic relationship where clients feel safe exploring the most intimate dimensions of their inner landscape.

Just as my own journey has woven through diverse spiritual traditions—from Judaism to Buddhism, from mystical practices to academic inquiry—so too must my therapeutic practice remain flexible, curious, and deeply attuned to the nuanced ways humans make meaning of their existential experiences.

Our relationship(s) with the invisible and numinous (meaning, suggesting the presence of divinity, or just Presence) is as individual and unique as fingerprints, yet has common features. These experiences may elicit awe, offer reassurance, incite action, and clarify issues. I have found the Mystical Experience Questionnaire (MEQ) to be very useful in this regard. It was developed in the 1960’s to assess mystical experiences caused by hallucinogens. It covers dimensions such as unity, sacredness, and ineffability. The Revised Mystical Experience Questionnaire (MEQ-30) is a 30-item version of the MEQ that is used in clinical research & measures four dimensions of spirituality: belief in God, mindfulness, search for meaning, and feeling of security. It can be downloaded here: https://psychology-tools.com/test/meq-30.

***

Ultimately, spirituality in counseling is about creating a sacred space of genuine human connection—where the mysterious, the ineffable, and the profoundly personal can be witnessed with compassion, wisdom, and profound respect.

Questions for Thought and Discussion

Which of the cases the author discussed resonated with you the most? In what ways?

How do you incorporate spirituality into your own clinical practice?

How do you integrate your own spirituality into your clinical work?

Bethany Brand on the Identification and Treatment of Dissociative Identity Disorder

Lawrence Rubin: Bethany Brand is a professor of psychology at Towson University. She’s an expert in trauma, specializing in trauma related disorders, including post-traumatic stress disorder and dissociative disorders. She also maintains an independent practice in clinical psychology in Towson, Maryland. Doctor Brandt serves on international and national task forces developing guidelines for the assessment and treatment of trauma disorders. Welcome, Bethany. Thank you for joining.

Bethany Brand: Thank you so much for having me.

Right Place, Right Time

LR: What got you interested in dissociative disorders, trauma, and ultimately dissociative identity disorder from a personal perspective?

BB: It was a number of things. One of the early experiences I had as an undergraduate at the University of Michigan was working in a shelter for women who’d been battered, which is what it was called back then—not interpersonal violence like we call it now. I started hearing about trauma and remember being very interested in it. In my first semester of graduate school, I was doing a psychological testing practicum at Johns Hopkins Hospital on the kids’ unit. This was in the late 80s, so many of the kids had been abused or neglected according to their charts. I asked my supervisor how that experience might be reflected in their psych testing—how would they be different? And there we were at Hopkins, one of the premier institutions in our country, and she did not know.

To her credit, she acknowledged that and asked her supervisor, who later gave us this fascinating off-the-cuff talk about trauma and his experience with traumatized kids. It was so compelling that I decided that was what I wanted to do my master’s thesis on. I was lucky enough at the time that Frank Putnam, one of the legends in the field of dissociation, called my graduate program, asking for students who might be willing to volunteer on his project—a longitudinal study of girls who’d been sexually abused. I was incredibly lucky to be at that right place at the right time, working with a pioneer.

To be honest with you, I wasn’t sure about the whole idea of dissociative identity disorder because we didn’t see that in the lab and that was not what we were studying, even though Frank was studying it at the National Institute of Mental Health. When I later went on internship at George Washington University Hospital, a woman there said she had multiple personality disorder, with whom I had done the testing.
The treatment team was a little skeptical, but my supervisor referred me to Judy Armstrong at Sheppard Pratt Hospital in Baltimore who offered to review the data with me. After she did so, she said, “You know what; you actually might have somebody with MPD.” After that, it was just luck because I got a postdoctoral fellowship at Pratt, where they had just opened up a trauma disorders unit, and where I did my dissertation on trauma. I remained there and began working very heavily with folks with DID, and other serious, complex trauma disorders. Right place, right time, and fortunately, amazing training with amazing clinical supervisors.

DID and the Dissociative Spectrum

LR: Before I ask you what readers most likely want to know, which is, “What actually is DID,” why the transition from “multiple personality disorder” as a label to, “dissociative identity disorder?”

BB: There were a lot of reasons, but just to be very brief; by calling it multiple personality disorder, many clinicians thought it was a personality disorder like borderline personality disorder, and it’s not in that category. The experts in the field wanted to emphasize it was a trauma related disorder connected to dissociation, not a disorder of personality. The name change was an attempt to reflect that.

LR: Well, I guess relatedly—and I may get back to my initial question—does the DSM’s characterization of DID as a complex post-traumatic developmental disorder, ‘capture it?’

BB: It’s a terrific start. It’s a foundational start, because it implies that it starts in childhood, which is what developmental disorder means. The research strongly points to very early severe chronic child abuse as the cause. But we also know that there is genetic tendency towards dissociation. And often these clients who end up as individuals who develop DID also have attachment problems because they didn’t have secure attachment. There are multiple things going on, but trauma really has an early childhood foundation.

LR: In your writing, you discuss TRD or trauma related dissociation and suggest that DID is almost always related to early childhood trauma and severe disruption of the attachment relationship. Is there such a thing as a NTRD, or non-trauma related dissociation?

BB: Yes! We all dissociate to some extent, so normal non-pathological dissociation can occur. It can be going into a state of automatic pilot. For example, when we’re driving down the highway and we’re really thinking about something, and barely remember the drive when we get home. Or we’re driving down the highway and we miss our exit because we’re so preoccupied, not because of traffic, but because of our mental disconnection from what we’re doing.

It can also happen at moments of peak spiritual experiences or athletic experiences when people can disconnect from their bodies or feel out of their bodies and have this incredible experience. But none of these experiences interfere with functioning.

LR: I imagine getting lost in a book or a song or a movie or a conversation containing elements of dissociation, but on the left side, or benign side of the spectrum.

BB: Exactly. Those are called absorption, and some people are very prone to absorption. We know from research that the more somebody is prone to absorption, they may be more at risk for dissociation. There’s been some debate over whether absorption should be called dissociation or not? For now, it is understood as one of the lower levels, not-so-problematic types of dissociation, which comes from self-report measures.

LR: Is it clinically useful to think of a dissociative spectrum with absorption type experiences on the left or benign side, and DID as the most extreme and pathological form all the way to the right?

BB: Yes, I think it is. But I’ll say that with awareness that some people living with DID really resent that, because understandably, this was an adaptation to horrendous, overwhelming circumstances. And so, I completely get it and respect that they had a brilliant way of adapting and getting through what would have been just harrowing experiences. The research actually supports exactly what you said.
As I said earlier, all of us dissociate to some extent. And then when you start studying dissociation and different psychological disorders, there’s a range of scores that people have on the different, self-report questionnaires. And it starts out with people having [scores] a little bit above what might be for people who are not struggling with any emotional disorder.

And then it gets at the highest level is folks with DID. And in between, there might be people with eating disorders and maybe borderline personality disorder, because there’s often a lot of trauma in those people’s background, and then you start getting into PTSD. And then the dissociative disorders indeed are at the end with the highest levels of dissociation.

LR: I would think that someone who is engaging in non-suicidal self-injury or someone who is in the middle of an intense food or substance binge is in an acute state that requires a certain amount of dissociation to be able to inflict that level of harm on to yourself.

BB: Is there some dissociation that goes on during those moments? The answer is yes! Often people are somewhat disconnected from their bodies. An example is a client who, with DID or severe dissociation, may be cutting and not feel it and be kind of fascinated with what they’re seeing under their skin, like really extreme cutting with the detachment. And they don’t feel the pain.

LR: Is it possible that someone with DID could be cutting while there’s another element of that personality that’s watching? Am I using the right nomenclature for the other “states?”

BB: There are people in the field that are really pushing for those parts to be called dissociative self-states. In the literature, they’re alternatively called identities, personalities, parts, and alters. We’re really trying to emphasize that whatever they’re called, that they’re all parts of one person. They’re self-states. They’re not different people. That’s why we’re encouraging that name to be adopted in the next DSM.

LR: I find myself gravitating toward more questions that may be more of a popular culture artifact, but I’ve heard that different self-states can have symptoms of a particular medical illness or disease while another is asymptomatic. Is that possible in your experience?

BB: It depends on what illness you’re talking about. We know that, depending on our emotional state, our blood pressure may change, right? And Frank Putnam, who I referred to earlier, did some of the early research showing that different self-states have different EEG patterns.

Simone Reinders in the Netherlands has done a bunch of research studying neurobiological differences among some self-states. She’s tried having professional actors impersonate self-states while they were hooked up with all kinds of biological markers, including brain scans. They could not emulate different self-states.

It’s remarkable. It’s not magic. It’s a disorder that is linked to neurobiological changes and differences. And of course, these different self-states are going to include the traumatized self state, the one that remembers trauma and has all the symptoms that go with that PTSD. When they’re scanned, of course you might expect their heart rate to be much faster and for them to have more activity in their limbic system, versus a part that’s very detached and doesn’t recall that trauma. The heart rate of that self-state is not going to be as elevated. And they’re not going to have the intense amygdala activation.

LR: I can see that if someone is in a moment of active sexual abuse, sexual trauma, that it’s in the body’s interest to down-regulate the heart rate and cortical activation.

BB: Yes. There are studies about that, talking about how animals go into survival mode and, you know, like the faint mode or the feigning death mode. There are some animals that have that response of total disconnection from their bottom up to allow them to survive attack. Well, there’s some parallels with humans that have been horrendously abused repeatedly. Their brains shift into dissociation as a survival mechanism.

Their access to memory can be quite different as well. One of the diagnostic requirements is that there be amnesia for some of their life experiences, that are not due to drugs, alcohol, or head injury. Or they may not remember key autobiographical events, like their own wedding. We call that dissociative amnesia.

LR: What are some of the myths and misconceptions about DID that clinicians should know about?

BB: There are a lot, unfortunately. One is that DID is exceptionally rare. On and across different prevalence studies, at least 1% of the general population meets criteria for DID. That’s the same prevalence rate roughly as bipolar disorder and schizophrenia. So, it’s not rare, but there have been some critics.

Critics of the whole notion of dissociation and DID have been putting it out for a long time in articles that are published in journals. And that has found its way into psychology textbooks that undergrads and grad students read that put forward that myth so that unfortunately, many people, even mental health clinicians, think it’s rare. Another myth put forward by the critics is that DID folks exaggerate their symptoms or are prone to create false memories of abuse.

When you actually compare people with DID to people with PTSD to what are called healthy controls, people who don’t have any emotional problem, and professional actors who try and emulate all of this stuff, there are some studies we’ve done that show that people with DID
are no more likely than people with PTSD to develop false memories.

The important thing that most mental health clinicians have not been trained to know is that they are highly symptomatic across a bunch of different domains. They don’t just have amnesia and different dissociative self-states. They also have PTSD. And we know PTSD is a complicated disorder with 17 potential symptoms. And so, at times they’re flooded with traumatic intrusions, pictures, awful memories, awful nightmares. And then there’s periods where they’re shut down and avoid it because it’s so awful to remember and feel that stuff.

And then there can be incredible periods of irritability and sleeplessness and feeling like they’re an awful person and different from the rest of the world. There’s a lot of research showing that dissociation is very common among people with PTSD. They also have major depression and because living with all these symptoms is so brutally difficult, many of them have substance use problems.

They try to knock out the memories by drinking too much or using drugs. They often also have eating disorders because they have a very difficult time tolerating their bodies. They blame their bodies for their abuse, and so they try and get really big so that nobody’s ever attracted to them or—and they often go back and forth, or they get really anorexic and starve themselves hoping to die or to look unappealing that way.

All of that is shown in the literature. And with regard to feigning DID, one of the ways that you look for malingering is when somebody is reporting too many symptoms or reporting exceedingly severe symptoms. They are much more likely to be classified as potentially malingering on some of the evidence-based measures and interviews for malingering. I’ve developed research that helps mental health clinicians and forensic experts know how to differentiate when somebody has true DID and when somebody is attempting to simulate it.

The critics also don’t really understand complex trauma. They are typically not clinicians or academics. But because so few mental health folks are getting trained in the evidence-based information about DID, they come away with these stereotypes out of textbooks that are just wrong. They’re just flat wrong. And myths.

LR: Is there a short list of the cardinal presentations that differentiate DID from some of the other severe forms of psychopathology?

BB: Back when I was trained, I was taught that if you hear voices, you are psychotic. But more than 75% of people who have DID hear voices.

LR: Schizophrenic?!

BB: Yes, schizophrenia or maybe the psychotic phase of bipolar disorder. I would encourage therapists to not automatically assume that hearing voices means psychosis. There’s a whole bunch of research, including people who don’t have DID, experience voice hearing, and this is strongly associated with trauma exposure. There have been meta-analyses that support this, so I suggest that clinicians always ask every client, no matter the setting, if they have been exposed to trauma. So, learn how to do a good trauma assessment.

If somebody endorses having experienced trauma, then ask about PTSD symptoms and dissociative symptoms. Ask about the different types of dissociative symptoms. Ask about depersonalization. Does the person ever feel numb when they should have feeling? Does the person ever feel like their body doesn’t belong to them? Do they ever see themselves at a distance, like outside of themselves, like they’re watching a movie? Those are three common symptoms of depersonalization, and there’s a range of other symptoms they can ask about, like do you sometimes feel like you’re younger or not your own biological age. Ask about voice hearing.

LR: What’s your gut feeling about why there’s such resistance among clinicians to embrace the reality of DID?

BB: It does sound farfetched, right? But that’s because people are misunderstanding the disorder. It is impossible for people to have multiple people inside themselves. It is impossible. Right. But, Lawrence, you don’t have a little Lawrence running around in your brain, and I don’t have a little Bethany running around in my brain. How do you know you’re not me?

LR: I’ll have to check.

BB: I stump my students when I ask that question. You know who you are because you know that you have a cat and that you’ve been married and lived in Michigan, and that you like Hello Kitty, and that you like certain kinds of music and food, and you have knowledge and memory of family and life experiences. But people with DID don’t always feel like all that.

First of all, they have periods of time missing. And so, they’re confused about who they are and what’s happened in their lives. But they’re not different people inside. Now, I’m going to say that, and some of the readers who have the idea are going to object to what I just said, because some people with DID do feel like they are different people.

That is their perceived experience, but people with DID don’t literally have little people running in their heads either. Our personalities are based on the neural firing of networks in our brains. And like we were saying earlier, there’s a neurobiological pattern that is characteristic for trauma related self-states versus ones that are very detached and don’t remember the trauma.

So, I think a lot of mental health people are mistaken and don’t understand what they have heard. It’s rare and I’ve been told this so many times, “Doctor Brand, I’ve been in the field for 30 or 40 years, and I’ve never seen a DID patient.” But I guarantee you, if they’ve really seen a lot of clients, they actually have, but missed it because perhaps they’re looking for dramatic presentations like Sybil. If it was that obvious, then when people switched states, it would be easy to diagnose. But that’s what movies do to make it look right to the audiences. That is not actually what DID really looks like.

A Tiered Approach to DID Intervention

LR: What is a multi-phasic approach to intervention with DID, and why is it considered the gold standard?

BB: It means that clinicians who work with DID and other serious dissociative disorders are realizing that there needs to be three stages of treatment. When somebody comes into treatment with complex trauma, and especially if it’s very serious, there needs to be an initial stage of stabilization of their symptoms. At this early stage, they may be suicidal, self-harming, drinking and using drugs, or engaging in some other kind of addictive behavior.

They often have really high levels of hospitalization, so they need to learn other ways of regulating themselves that are safe and that they can do out of the hospital. If and when they get stabilized, they begin learning how to regulate emotions in ways that ground them, which is the opposite of dissociation.

Once they’re stable and want to go on to stage two work, we are talking about trauma processing. That’s where they may then talk about some of the trauma so that gradually they can heal from that and not have so many intrusions of nightmares and flashbacks and horrible memories or feeling numb to it.

It’s an awful thing to feel like you’re deadened inside. That would be stage two work, which can take a very long time. So can stage one, by the way. And then comes stage three. For complex trauma—and I’m not just talking DID now—but in general, the person works more on developing their life, their friendships, their career goals; they’re no longer so focused on the past and trauma, but integrating into whatever kind of life and relationships they want.

LR: Is this in line with your “Finding Solid Ground” program?

BB: Yes. The program I’ve created with colleagues called “Finding Solid Ground” is a staged stabilization approach where we help clients learn about, first of all, grounding. But it’s not just for people with DID, but also for people with complex PTSD, and what in the United States is called the dissociative subtype of PTSD.

Our research is showing it helps all these folks, not just DID, but they learn to be more present to their emotions and deal with emotions in healthier ways. They learn about how to deal with PTSD so it’s more contained and not so intrusive so they can sleep better so that they’re not having these awful images pop into their mind and interrupt their functioning all day.

We help them learn to separate past and present. When somebody has very bad PTSD, the brain cannot really distinguish the difference between a flashback and the present moment. It feels to the person it is happening now. So, we teach them how to catch their warning signs that they may start being close to being at risk for intrusions of PTSD, that they might start dissociating, that they might start drifting towards self-harm, and then find ways to get out of that cycle. Among other things, we teach them a little bit about the neurobiology of trauma and that it’s not their fault.

LR: Is integration of self-states the absolute end goal for treatment?

BB: When I first accepted that postdoc at Sheppard Pratt in 1993, the emphasis in the field was integration of personality states. And yet that’s not what I was hearing and seeing was happening very often. I was the leader of a study where we asked experts around the world how many patients had they integrated in their careers. It was small numbers.

That may not sound like a jolt of lightning to readers, but it did lead us to rethink whether that was very achievable for most patients or not?

At the same time, many people living with DID do not want to integrate their parts because they have lived often for decades with these parts. And that helps them function from their perspective. That is who they are. They value their parts, or eventually you hope that therapy can help them learn to respect and value their parts rather than be at war. Some of the self-harm and suicide attempts are about one part trying to kill off another. At the time, they don’t recognize they will all die if they commit suicide. So now I have a different perspective and I think there are different options. I think clients should have the right to choose what they want their endpoint to be.

And that may change over treatment. In the beginning, some clients absolutely say get rid of these parts, but they don’t understand. They can’t. I use the metaphor that you can’t live by cutting out your heart or your liver. And it’s the same thing with self-states. You have survived because of the self-state. You can’t get rid of one. You can learn to work as a coherent collaborative group like a business or a healthy family rather than being at war.

DID and the Family Connection

LR: Are there useful systemic interventions that involve family, spouses, children?

BB: Of course, as a therapist, I’m teaching them, but I don’t want their spouse or partner to be doing therapeutic things. Right! But it gets really messy. If they have children who see them switch, and mom or dad doesn’t seem to remember things they’ve said or done, I find ways to explain DID to the kids in an age-appropriate way.

It is incredibly important that they’re not switching a lot in front of their children. Parents should be consistent no matter what, no matter who they are, whether they have DID, bipolar disorder, or PTSD. Children need consistency. So I would work with a client to help them develop the parenting parts and having them learn to look similarly and act similarly with the kids, so they’re not confusing the kids.

LR: In this context, can a person with DID voluntarily call on another self-state, rather than it “taking over” during a time of crisis or trauma-related moment?

BB: Yes. So that might be something that we’d work on, to go back to that last example, when they’re around their children. You would want them to work towards having parts that can be very supportive, caring, loving, consistent parents. And the parts that are little, that feel as if they are young children, terrorized, traumatized themselves, would be in the back of the mind.

All this is metaphor, however, right? There are no little people, right? But metaphorically, those self-states are taken care of internally so that they are consistent. Same thing with work, same thing when they’re driving.

LR: You said earlier, Bethany, that invariably, dissociative states and DID in particular are born out of severe trauma in childhood and attachment disruptions. At what point might a clinician begin to suspect dissociative identity disorder in childhood?

BB: Really good question. Some of the same symptoms that later develop and become more severe in adulthood can be seen in little children with the beginning stages of a dissociative disorder. One thing I haven’t mentioned is that adults with DID can go into trance states where they’re not responsive to the outer world.

Little kids start showing attention and zoning out. They’re often misdiagnosed as having ADHD. So again, we need all clinicians to be trauma-informed and trained. Not that they’re expecting to see a dissociative kid, but they might, especially if they have symptoms of PTSD like nightmares and flashbacks, or report having imaginary friends. Some talk about that for a second.

Developmentally, it’s normal for children to have imaginary friends. But if imaginary friends start to be frightening, or upsetting, or tell the child to hurt their sibling or a pet, or to destroy their toys, that’s not a “normal” kind of scenario. Little kids usually stop talking about imaginary friends around age seven. But people with DID report that they never went away. Those actually linger as parts of their dissociative self-states.

Keyword, Avoidance!

LR: There are clinicians who believe that if we look hard enough for trauma, we will find it. Is it similar for dissociation and DID?

BB: It might be! During medical training, students commonly think they have all the different disorders. The same thing may be happening in our field. For 26 years, I taught a course on differential diagnosis and interviewing. At the beginning of the class, I warned the students that they were going to be tempted to diagnose themselves along with everybody they loved or hated. It is a normal phase of learning the DSM but I asked them to be respectful and stick to the diagnostic criteria, so they don’t go telling people they’ve got borderline personality disorder.

There is a normal stage of training in which, at least for a while, we may overuse certain concepts as we’re learning them. But again, if clinicians are well-trained in differential diagnosis they will be less likely to overdiagnose certain symptoms and disorders—in this case, dissociation and DID. This is one of my research streams.

There is a lot of research out there, and I’ve written a book about how to assess dissociation and how to distinguish it from other symptoms and disorders. Here is where training is critical. The ways you treat schizophrenia and bipolar disorder are very different from the way you treat DID. Schizophrenia and bipolar are the two disorders that people with DID are most often misdiagnosed with.

People with DID don’t need mood stabilizers or heavy-duty antipsychotics. Instead, you do a trauma-informed stabilization approach. Two of my earliest DID clients were misdiagnosed with schizophrenia and treated accordingly for years. One passed away and gave me permission to share her story. By the time I saw her, she had horrible tardive dyskinesia. She had been disfigured by the treatment for schizophrenia that she didn’t have. Once we started working together, she got a lot better— not cured, but a lot better, and she was much more functional. She had dropped out of school and midway through high school, she went back and became a minister in her community.

LR: What do you see as the core elements of training that need to be incorporated into graduate programs so that DID can be correctly identified, and interventions designed?

BB: Only 8% of APA-approved doctoral programs require a course in trauma. That’s gotta change. Information about trauma should be a required part of graduate training in psychology, social work, and related fields. As part of that training, they also need to learn about dissociation and the range of dissociative disorders, and how you assess for dissociative disorders, and how you do differential diagnosis. And, of course, something about evidence-supported treatment. There’s only one program so far based on randomized controlled trial data that shows it helps people with profound dissociative disorders. But they should hear about that. That should be in the textbooks.

LR: What do you think is contributing to that incredible avoidance by the APA of mandating graduate-level trauma training at graduate level?

BB: A group of us have been pushing for different guidelines about working with complex trauma that finally got approved by the APA this last summer. But there is pushback. And a lot of us think there’s a political issue. Let’s just think about what PTSD means. The required criteria center around avoidance. You nailed it there!

Even people who’ve been traumatized don’t want to think about it. It’s human nature not to want to know, think, and talk about trauma. Believe me, it’s a hard part of my job. I do it, and of course I know how to do it. But hearing the stories of what has happened to little children is incredibly difficult.
And there’s some real doubters out there when it comes to thinking about child abuse. Maybe they should read a little bit about child pornography and child trafficking and how rampant they are, because we’ve got plenty of evidence that that happens. Some individuals report that part of their abuse was being the victims of child pornographers.

So, I think we don’t want to think about that stuff!

LR: Avoidance on a large scale.

BB: Avoidance. You nailed that.

LR: Not to get sidetracked, but I wonder if this is what Bessel van der Kolk experienced when he tried to get his developmental trauma disorder approved by APA.

BB: I’m sure that’s some of it, but not-unshockingly, it likely goes back to financial issues.

LR: It’s hard to imagine.

BB: At this point, the National Institute of Mental Health has never once funded a study of the treatment of DID. So, I have literally had to get donations to fund my studies. Do you think cancer researchers do that? Do you think researchers of any other disorder must have bake sales and pass the plate at college?
Where is the money in trauma right now? It’s in the Veterans Administration. I’ve heard this from various people who work there. They do not recognize DID, and they don’t want anybody in the VA system being diagnosed with DID, because that’s a real problem for our military, right? Everybody there has a dissociative disorder. Although believe me, I have assessed people in that system and helped them get honorary discharge. Anyway, there’s a huge amount of funding that goes to VA research and they emphasize working with adults. They want to keep the soldiers “strong” and ready to go or whatever the branches to ready to fight. Yeah. The childhood trauma.

LR: It’s hard not to introduce politics into conversations at this level. But do you have any concerns about funding for dissociative and other disorders as the incoming administration takes form?

BB: I do, and I think many, many researchers are very concerned about funding for new science research in general. But then when you get into groups like research on women, research on children, research on traumatized people, research on any kind of minorities, but especially LGBTQ groups, people are very worried. My funding has always been a problem. But I do have many generous donors.

Wrapping Up

LR: There’s so many big sales you can have, and winter is coming.

BB: So, we’ll have some hot chocolate sales and some coffee. Yes, there is a group called the International Society for the Study of Trauma and Dissociation (ISSTD). They do lots of multi-level, face-to-face and online training for dissociation and children, adolescents, and adults. They also supported RCT studies for our Finding Solid Ground program.

I’m strongly urging clinicians to learn about that program. We’ve got two books out there. One for people living with the disorder, and one for therapists. Our research shows that the Finding Solid Ground program works best when the therapist knows the program and the clients working with the therapist who knows the program.

LR: Has counter transference entered into your work with any particular client?

BB: For anybody working with complex trauma, there is going to be countertransference and traumatic countertransference. And the client will experience transference. There’ve been times I felt like I wanted to rescue somebody because they’ve had such a hard life. But you’ve got to keep the boundaries strong. I consult with a lot of therapists. One of the mistakes I hear from therapists is they do try and rescue, or they go too far. It’s not uncommon that therapists will see a DID client for free and become very burned out. I don’t ever advise that.

The psychotherapy research shows that people benefit from treatment more if they’re paying something. It’s also common for therapists to alternate between feeling helpless, like the child was back during trauma time, and at other times harsh and mean which the client may experience as harsh and mean, almost like the perpetrator or a non-protective bystander. Those three roles are extremely common in the treatment, so I teach a therapists to watch for that, to work on that, and to make that understood.

Something they actually talk about with their clients so neither get stuck in those spaces and can learn from it. It’s part of the healing, rather than becoming the point where the treatment comes off the rails.

LR: I think that we could talk for hours, Bethany. It’s been a fascinating conversation for me as I hope it was for you. Is there anything I’ve left out?

BB: Yes. There are people out there who have died because of this disorder, but there is hope, even despite the tremendous suffering. It’s important that these people know that they are not alone, and neither are their therapists. It’s important that therapists convey that they’re not alone, it’s not their fault, and that they are not weak or dumb. They don’t have to suffer endlessly, and neither do therapists need to feel powerless. There’s hope.

LR: I think the clinical world is a smarter place for your presence in it. Thank you, Bethany.

BB: Thank you!