Family Therapy and Resistant Parents: The Child Cannot Wait

Many of us have experienced the complexity of a child therapy case in which the parents are not amenable to change. If the parents are resistant, the pathological parent-child relationship is highly unlikely to improve. In my own practice, I have found this to be an issue particularly with children who have been neglected and abused, but it arises in many of my child and adolescent cases, regardless of the presenting problem.

Certainly, when dealing with a child's disruptive behavior and a parent's feelings of frustration or even clear hostility toward the child, the most successful intervention is usually some form of family intervention. Family therapy has long been our primary approach to behavioral problems with children and adolescents, with strong evidence of its efficacy. And the integration of family therapy and individual treatment has been standard practice for years, as it is not uncommon for individual members of the family to require separate but parallel help.

But I have found over the years that such parallel help is not always successful. In some cases, parental problems pose such serious difficulties for the child or adolescent that a drastically different approach is necessary. Consider the angry 11-year-old who has begun acting out, and who will soon enter the wider, more demanding world of adolescence, where his difficulties with authority could easily escalate. If his parents are also hostile and uncooperative in therapy, it often becomes a question of time; there may be some chance that the parents would benefit from an intervention effort, but not without the passage of more time than the child can afford.

The issue becomes, then: “When do we shift from trying to work within the parent-child relationship to seeing the child as a separate entity needing to find a way to protect him- or herself from the negative impact of a destructive parent?”

Three Contrasting Cases

The following three cases exemplify how major differences in parent-child relationships impact the treatment process with families, and how the child's perception of acceptance versus rejection is a key factor in this. Jane, the first case, has a mother able to work separately on her own problems in a way that aids the family therapy process. The second case, Mike, is at the other end of the continuum with a totally destructive parent. The third case, Roberta, falls in the middle, where the parents are trying to be part of the family therapy effort, but the adults' personal difficulties block the therapeutic process. The parents of Jane and Roberta contacted me at my private office seeking help for their girls, while the mother of Mike came to a community clinic where the local courts often sent youngsters and their parents for assistance.

Jane

Jane's mother and father were in a constant battle with nine-year-old Jane as she fought every rule and requirement they imposed. She had become increasingly uncooperative in school, and her peers were rejecting her. As family treatment progressed with the use of behavioral contingencies, Jane's mother reported that she was unable to follow through on negative consequences: she had a great deal of difficulty saying "no" to Jane. During an individual session she explained that she wanted Jane to grow up to be her friend. She feared that being firm with her now would make Jane "hate" her later on. Jane's mother had had a very traumatic relationship with her own mother. Jane's maternal grandmother had a serious substance abuse problem and Jane's mother went through years of feeling angry with her. The grandmother died without having reconciled with her daughter. Jane's mother's painful past relationship with her own mother was controlling her perception of her daughter ("she will learn to hate me"); in turn, this perception was interfering with her ability to be a parent to Jane.

This mother, although angry and frustrated, was bonded with her child and desired a better relationship; she was certainly not a hostile and rejecting parent. She was amenable to treatment and learned in individual work how her past experience was interfering with her relationship with Jane beyond just the issue of saying "no." She learned that changing Jane's current behavior required that she make some changes as well. As Jane's mother worked on her own issues, the family work progressed quickly.

Mike

In contrast to Jane's story, Mike's mother followed a court order to seek therapy for her 14-year-old boy who avoided school, stayed out as late as he wished, affiliated himself with a gang, and was finally arrested for stealing bikes from neighborhood children. The court placed him on probation with clear instructions that if he did not go to school, was not in his home by a specific time in the evening, and/or continued any contact with the gang members, his probation would be revoked and he would be incarcerated in a juvenile facility. Mike felt that his mother hated him and wanted him "put away." His mother refused to attend family or individual sessions herself, stating that only Mike needed help. She frequently called the probation officer to complain about Mike's behavior and avoided contact with me. Many of her complaints about Mike were issues that could have been handled by working directly with her and Mike together, with the help of his probation officer. I explained my professional opinion to his mother, but she refused to be involved. She stated that she did not have the time and believed that Mike was simply "evil."

We had started family treatment by working out an agreement regarding what was expected of Mike (e.g., getting himself to school on time, when to be home, the kids he had to avoid, the kids he could spend time with) and what his mother should do to reward his cooperation (increasing his allowance and TV game time were the "rewards" he wanted). Mike's mother, unfortunately, failed to cooperate with this agreement; this, combined with her emotional rejection of him, led to Mike seeing the agreement as a farce.

His mother's view of him had determined Mike's view of himself, which factored significantly into his destructive behaviors. He felt rejected by his mother and struggled with feelings of worthlessness as a result. On one level, he appeared to blame his mother, and made angry statements about how wrong he felt she was. At a second level, however, he blamed himself and had to deal with feelings of depression. At times he entertained self-destructive thoughts, but denied any actual plans to harm himself.

Unfortunately, Mike's justified anger at his mother's rejection left him eager to maintain a relationship with his gang friends. Eventually his mother spotted him talking to one of them and reported it to the probation officer, who revoked his probation and sent him to a juvenile facility, thus ending treatment.

Roberta

In a third case, Roberta, a 13-year-old girl, was living with her father and stepmother. She was trying to maintain contact with her mother, but her mother lived with a boyfriend who had been found guilty of sexually abusing Roberta. He had been incarcerated for a few months, and was again living with Roberta's mother, but now was not permitted to be home when Roberta visited. The mother admitted that she did not believe the abuse had occurred, and blamed Roberta for all the personal and legal difficulties she and her boyfriend had gone through as a result of the accusations.

Roberta's father, on the other hand, had married a younger woman who related to Roberta as a sibling rather than an adult. Roberta's father greatly enjoyed and depended upon the devotion of his young bride. He thought that the only way his life could proceed happily was if his daughter would cater to his wife's demands. He perceived his daughter's adolescent struggle for independence, along with her competition with his wife for his attention, as serious threats to his personal happiness.

Roberta was in an almost continuous rage as she struggled to deal with how "unfair" she said her mother and father were, how "disgusting" she said her stepmother was, and how "dangerous" she reported her mother's boyfriend to be. She continuously fought any expression of authority by all the adults in her family. She was increasingly defiant in school, and had also become sexually active with several neighborhood boys.

All of the intra- and interpersonal issues in this family were potentially amenable to treatment. However, “the parents were each involved in complex, competing relationships that resulted in therapy moving forward at glacial speed, while the child continued to struggle and act out.”

In this case, Roberta's perception of rejection was based on the negative communication from her mother and father that represented their own frustrations. The long-term conflict between Roberta and her parents served for her as evidence of rejection. The young girl was not in a position to recognize that her parents' behaviors were reactions to other complex issues in their lives, and not indicative of their love for her or lack thereof.

In addition to anger at the adults in her life, Roberta expressed strong feelings of sadness, including self-destructive thoughts, which were difficult for her to share with me. Fortunately, these stayed at the occasional "thought" level and never progressed to self-destructive plans or actions.

A Therapy Model

These types of cases are serious in terms of the potential for both antisocial acting out and self-destructive behaviors. And many of these cases do not respond at all, or much too slowly, to the usual attempts at family therapy. By "usual" I am referring to interventions that aim for the maintenance of an improved family unit. Such therapy facilitates changes in the child's behavior partly through internal changes the child makes, and partly as a result of positive intra-family changes. But what about the cases where intra-family changes may not occur at all, or only after it is too late for the child developmentally?

I have found that, in these situations, the only way to counteract the effects of a child perceiving himself as rejected, and hence unworthy, is for the youngster to perceive the rejecting behavior of his parent as evidence of his parent's deficiencies rather than his own.

The issue is not limited to dealing with the child's anger. In other cases, rejection may not be a major issue. For example, a child who has experienced the affection and acceptance inherent in a normal parent-child relationship, now an adolescent, is struggling with her parents over money, dating, homework, etc., and says things that hurt her parents. In this case, we are not dealing with the same anger issue. This child's angry interactions with parents and their inappropriate responses can often be dealt with successfully in therapy. Parents and child learn to deal with their mutual misinterpretations, develop alternate and more acceptable ways of expressing anger, and establish agreements regarding major conflict areas. By contrast, “in the cases I am discussing here, the child's anger, although a problem, is not the major issue. The real issue is the depressive effect of emotional rejection.”

Therefore, the issue is not only that of managing anger but also of dealing with the destructive effects of parental rejection. The power of that rejection is based on the child's underlying belief that the rejection means that the child is an unworthy person. The issue is now how to confront that underlying belief and assist the child in rejecting it.

One approach is to foster the psychological separation of child and parent by helping the child to recognize the ways in which his parent(s) have failed to meet the child's needs. The therapist also helps the child understand that his needs for attention, age-appropriate independence, etc., are normal. In this manner, the therapist is able to assist the child in rejecting his parents' negative perception of him. It is helpful, in this process, to find examples of ways in which the parents do things or provide things that only a parent who loves their child would do. The child can then recognize the parent's inability to meet his needs, while rejecting the validity of the parent's perception. The child finds other means of validating his worthiness.

By this time, the therapeutic process has greatly reduced the parents' emotional impact on the child. The child must now recognize the harmful effects of his own angry or frustrated responses to his parents, then learn to manage those responses in order to foster appropriate parent-child interactions.

George: Fostering Independence in Older Children

George was a 15-year-old high school student. For several years, school personnel had described him as consistently performing below his capacity, always passing his subjects but never doing more than was absolutely necessary. He recently started smoking marijuana with some frequency, and his relationship with his divorced parents (both successful professionals with busy careers) was becoming increasingly stormy.

Separately, each parent complained that there were no problems so long as George always got his own way. If either of them objected to his hours, wanted to see him put more effort into school work, questioned him about finding drug paraphernalia in his room, or made any other demands on him, George would swear at them, slam doors, break objects, and storm out the door. Sometimes, when that happened, he would go to the other parent's home and just settle in there. The "receiving parent" usually just accepted his presence and avoided asking any questions so as to avoid another emotional explosion.

George was an only child whose parents separated when he was five years old. In therapy, he recalled many fights between his parents in which he was the central figure.”He insisted that the fights between his parents went on for days and could be instigated by almost anything he did. As he explained it, "they got divorced because they hated me."”

George was unable to think positively about his future. The prospect of attending college, which both of his parents encouraged, was acceptable to him as long as he was allowed to live far away from both parents and was given enough money to be "comfortable." He was only interested in schools that had a "party – party" reputation. He refused to discuss his ideas about long-term goals or career interests.

I first met with George and both his parents together, then saw each of them for two private sessions apiece to obtain a history and for diagnostic purposes. The first treatment approach was family therapy involving all three parties. We started by dealing with such issues as George's need for his parents to respect his independence, and his parents' need for him to respect their authority. We struggled to find compromises that might reduce the conflict between them. The family failed to progress, and ultimately it became clear that each parent had significant psychological issues of their own that seriously impacted all the possible dyads—mother-father, mother-son, and father-son. The parents could not move away from blaming each other for every issue they had with their son. As they persisted in their angry recriminations and constant fault-finding with each other, George showed increasing disdain for each of them. George interpreted their behavior as simply reinforcing his perception that they blamed him for all of the family's problems.

I advised each parent that they could benefit from individual counseling, but they both refused, insisting that the problem was only with George. I terminated the family sessions and changed the therapy plan to weekly individual sessions with George and a family meeting every five or six weeks to review the current status of their family life.

In the individual sessions, George expressed his anger at his parents and his negative feelings towards himself, referring to himself as the cause of his parents' divorce and continuing conflict. I began to interpret some of George's behavioral descriptions of parent-child interaction as indicators of faults in his parents. “I suggested that some of George's memories, if they were accurate, described parents who certainly loved their child but whose behavior strongly indicated personal weakness or deficiency.” I confronted George's idea that he caused the divorce with the argument that George's early childhood behavior represented a normal range of pestering child behavior that all parents have seen. I suggested to George that his parents' responses to his behavior represented inadequacies in parenting skill.

As his descriptions moved to more recent interactions between his parents, I suggested that it was not surprising that they divorced, as they clearly had significant difficulties dealing with each other. George described a battle going on in which his father was screaming at his mother about her spending money. His mother then retaliated by blaming him for wasting money on a bike for George that she said George did not use enough. George felt that they were again fighting about him and that it was his fault. I strongly suggested that none of these battles between his parents could possibly be blamed on George, and in this case his mother was only mentioning George and his bike as ammunition in her fight with his father.

As George began to accept that his parents had real deficiencies, he started to examine his more recent conflicts with each one. At times, he would place total responsibility for an incident on the parent. For example, he expected his mother to ignore his drug use and just allow him to smoke his marijuana in the living room. She had objected, a screaming match ensued, and George walked out of the house. He complained that she "was old fashioned and didn't understand the modern world." I told George I was surprised that he did not seem to understand that no responsible parent would ever ignore their son's drug use. Even if the son is a legal adult, every person has the right to decide what is and is not allowed in their own home. He challenged me for my own views, and I shared with him many examples of my exercising parental authority with my own sons. The real issue here, I explained, was not that of smoking marijuana, but was actually his impulse to challenge his mother's authority. He was behaving as if his mother was just one of his teenage buddies. I told him that the solution was not for him to stop using marijuana, but rather for him to stop throwing it in his parents' faces.

The real issue here, I explained, was not that of smoking marijuana, but was actually his impulse to challenge his mother's authority. He was behaving as if his mother was just one of his teenage buddies.Using this type of confrontative approach, we were able to keep a reasonable focus on George's own contribution to many parent-child conflicts. This approach had two goals: developing the skills necessary to manage future interactions with his parents, and improving George's awareness that his ability to anger his parents (and others) was based on his behavior, not their innate hatred of him.

As George explored his memories of his family life, he discovered many experiences that he could easily interpret as each parent demonstrating their love for him. After a while, he was able to accept the possibility that activities and experiences like Little League and family trips to foreign places might have been motivated by their wish to make him happy, and that such a wish might indicate parental love. Slowly, he began to perceive his parents' negative behaviors as expressions of their own emotional difficulties. He understood their outbursts of anger toward him as being reasonable and expected responses to his own obnoxious behavior, instead of evidence of a basic hatred of him.

We next focused on his learning to care for himself and depend less on his parents. I helped him understand that his happiness—and he had a right to be happy—could no longer be determined and influenced by his parents. He needed to take charge of his own life. He began to perceive school success, for example, as something he was doing for himself and not for his parents. This process is, in part, congruent with the developmental process of adolescence. In George's case, it was also a response to the real issue: that his parents' difficulties prevented them from providing him with emotional support or practical guidance. Finally, George independently contacted the college and career guidance services available at his school and found the staff more able to respond to his anxieties about his future than his parents. He began to think critically about what he wanted from a post-high-school education.

Jamie: Nurturing Dependency in Younger Children

By virtue of his age, 15-year-old George was at the beginning of a developmental stage that entails building independence, greater self-reliance, and increased separation from parents. Hence, the therapy process was supported by developmental realities.

But what if George had been eight years old instead of fifteen? How could this approach possibly work? The phenomenon of pseudo-maturity is well known. “The phenomenon of pseudo-maturity is well known. Young children dealing with neglect, for example, often demonstrate role reversal and become the parent.” We describe these children as having "lost their childhood." They have difficulty trusting others, are emotionally insecure, and often exhibit symptoms of depression. The therapy approach described above, applied to a child as young as eight, would appear to promote the development of pseudo-maturity, and this is indeed a possibility.

In this type of case, we must respond to the dependency needs of the younger child while dealing with the need to separate from the parents. The case of Jamie provides an excellent example of how this can be done. Jamie, age eight, was the oldest of two children. Her parents complained that she was resistant, uncooperative, and a discipline problem. They seemed overwhelmed by her insistence on staying up later than her bedtime, arguing about what they fed her, and refusing to allow them to monitor her homework. If they argued about homework too much, she simply refused to do the work. At first, we worked on behavioral contracts with clear expectations and rewards that Jamie could earn. But her parents could not stay consistent with the program; each expressed feeling overwhelmed by having to do such things as reward their child. They simply wanted Jamie to take care of any issues related to school, eating, dressing, bathing, and so on, without their involvement. They also continued to express anger whenever a complaint from school, for example, required their time and effort.

I looked for what was positive in Jamie's life and what made her happy. She expressed a desire to have a closer relationship with a female teacher she admired, and I encouraged that. This changed her relationship to her homework: instead of seeing it as grounds for a power struggle with her parents, Jamie came to recognize the hopelessness of that interaction. Through this new relationship with her teacher, she was finally able enjoy the emotional satisfaction of academic success. As Jamie's grades improved, her emotionally destructive interactions with her parents diminished.

The emotional turmoil in the lives of Jamie's parents made even the purchase of a bike a serious issue for therapy. Questions about the type and size of the bike, which accessories to get (if any), and where they should purchase it, resulted in major distress for her parents, and certainly for Jamie as she tried to deal with them over an object that was very important to her.

In treatment, Jamie learned that she was incorrect in her perception that her parents wanted to deny her the bike because they loved her sibling more. She found many memories where her parents had given her things, had fun with her on vacations, and showed pride in her accomplishments. Independently, I learned from the parents that these memories were accurate. I directly stated to Jamie that these were the things that parents who loved their child did for them. I also explicitly interpreted to her that, regarding her parents' more negative behavior, they clearly had difficulty making decisions without exhibiting anger and confusion. This was behavior that she had often seen. Jamie did not express the need to know why this happened, but was comforted by seeing the behavior as a problem the parents had, and not her responsibility.

I have found that direct statements to a child, such as those above to Jamie, are the best way to deal with a child's misperceptions. In Jamie's case, they would quickly result in our talking about major issues. And, as with any therapist-offered interpretation, Jamie might reject what was offered, then follow up with more of her feelings about the situation. “There is always the danger that a younger child will agree with you simply because you are the powerful adult”, but I have found that my patients, even quite young ones, are very comfortable in questioning or challenging any of my input. It is a matter of the quality of our relationship during treatment.

With my help, Jamie did the necessary research and presented to her parents a firm package of bike type, size, price, and a local bike store where it was available. Her parents quickly bought her the bike and not another word was said. Her Girl Scout leader became the adult who assisted with bicycle maintenance and with whom she shared her biking adventures.

“I could meet some of Jamie's dependency needs, but, of course, no therapist should try to fulfill that role.” The therapy process required helping her find other child-adult relationships to fill this void. At the same time, Jamie needed to learn that her Girl Scout leaders, teachers, and a grandmother who lived close by could help, but also had their limitations. We addressed her jealousy of the Scout Leader's own children and of the other children in her class that her teacher showed concern for.

Parental Complications

This model calls for recognition that, in some cases, the relationship between parents and child is a damaged one, and that the primary culprit is the parents' emotional makeup. The cases described here have involved a single-parent home, or two-parent families where both parents are the problem. In other cases, one parent might be amenable to change while the other is not. The "amenable" parent's growing awareness of the other parent's pathology and consequent destructive impact on the child often results in worsening marital discord, and sometimes separation and divorce. In those cases, my work with the child is assisted by getting the parents to see someone specializing in marital therapy. I found this assistance to be essential, and in these cases successful marital therapy allowed me to be successful with the child. Unfortunately, when the disturbed parent refuses marital counseling, that parent usually wants to terminate the child's therapy as well.

Considerations to the Approach

Some parents' difficulties are long-term and extremely resistant to any intervention, but children move along a developmental timeline that waits for no one. In these cases, individual work with the child may have to become the primary intervention, and the normal process of a child's psychological separation from the parent may have to be accelerated.

There are potential problems with this approach that a therapist needs to be aware of. Therapy patients of any age can become dependent on the therapist to a degree that interferes with their progress. I believe that children are even more vulnerable in this regard. “Needy children struggling with difficult parents can easily provoke rescue fantasies in the therapist.” I have seen, for example, young therapists I was supervising jumping in and doing things for the child-patient when they should have been assisting the child to develop the skills to function independently.

A major potential stumbling block is the parents' response to the increasing independence of the child. Problems can occur if the child expresses that independence by openly rejecting the parents' authority. For example, if Jamie had announced to her parents that they need not bother to make any rules in the house because she would only follow what her scout leader said was appropriate, we would certainly have seen increasing conflict between them. The treatment process includes the child's learning how to disagree with parents in ways that avoid such difficulties.

In closing, I wish to stress that this approach is one the therapist must choose only after family therapy has already been tried energetically without success. What I have described here is a compromise in which we must give up family therapy's power to move the whole family forward, in a last-resort effort to rescue the child.

The Path to Wholeness: Person-Centered Expressive Arts Therapy

When art and psychotherapy are joined, the scope and depth of each can be expanded, and when working together, they are tied to the continuities of humanity’s history of healing. —Shaun McNiff, The Arts and Psychotherapy

Part of the psychotherapeutic process is to awaken the creative life-force energy. Thus, creativity and therapy overlap. What is creative is frequently therapeutic. What is therapeutic is frequently a creative process. Having integrated the creative arts into my therapeutic practice, I use the term person-centered expressive arts therapy. The terms expressive therapy or expressive arts therapy generally denote dance therapy, art therapy, and music therapy. These terms also include therapy through journal writing, poetry, imagery, meditation, and improvisational drama. Using the expressive arts to foster emotional healing, resolve inner conflict, and awaken individual creativity is an expanding field. In the chapters that follow, I hope to encourage you to add expressive arts to your personal and professional lives in ways that enhance your ability to know yourself, to cultivate deeper relationships, and to enrich your methods as an artist, therapist, and group facilitator.

What is expressive arts therapy?

Expressive arts therapy uses various arts—movement, drawing, painting, sculpting, music, writing, sound, and improvisation—in a supportive setting to facilitate growth and healing. It is a process of discovering ourselves through any art form that comes from an emotional depth. It is not creating a “pretty” picture. It is not a dance ready for the stage. It is not a poem written and rewritten to perfection.

We express inner feelings by creating outer forms. Expressive art refers to using the emotional, intuitive aspects of ourselves in various media. To use the arts expressively means going into our inner realms to discover feelings and to express them through visual art, movement, sound, writing, or drama. Talking about our feelings is also an important way to express and discover ourselves meaningfully. In the therapeutic world based on humanistic principles, the term expressive therapy has been reserved for nonverbal and/or metaphoric expression. Humanistic expressive arts therapy differs from the analytic or medical model of art therapy, in which art is used to diagnose, analyze and “treat” people.

Most of us have already discovered some aspect of expressive art as being helpful in our daily lives. You may doodle as you speak on the telephone and find it soothing. You may write a personal journal and find that as you write, your feelings and ideas change. Perhaps you write down your dreams and look for patterns and symbols. You may paint or sculpt as a hobby and realize the intensity of the experience transports you out of your everyday problems. Or perhaps you sing while you drive or go for long walks. These exemplify self-expression through movement, sound, writing, and art to alter your state of being. They are ways to release your feelings, clear your mind, raise your spirits, and bring yourself into higher states of consciousness. The process is therapeutic.

When using the arts for self-healing or therapeutic purposes, we are not concerned about the beauty of the visual art, the grammar and style of the writing, or the harmonic flow of the song. We use the arts to let go, to express, and to release. Also, we can gain insight by studying the symbolic and metaphoric messages. Our art speaks back to us if we take the time to let in those messages.

Although interesting and sometimes dramatic products emerge, we leave the aesthetics and the craftsmanship to those who wish to pursue the arts professionally. Of course, some of us get so involved in the arts as self-expression that we later choose to pursue the skills of a particular art form. Many artist-therapists shift from focusing on their therapist lives to their lives as artists. Many artists understand the healing aspects of the creative process and become artist-therapists.

Using the creative process for deep inner healing entails further steps when we work with clients. Expressive arts therapists are aware that involving the mind, the body, and the emotions brings forth the client’s intuitive, imaginative abilities as well as logical, linear thought. Since emotional states are seldom logical, the use of imagery and nonverbal modes allows the client an alternate path for self-exploration and communication. This process is a powerful integrative force.

Traditionally, psychotherapy is a verbal form of therapy, and the verbal process will always be important. However, I find I can rapidly understand the world of the client when she expresses herself through images. Color, form, and symbols are languages that speak from the unconscious and have particular meanings for each individual. As I listen to a client’s explanation of her imagery, I poignantly see the world as she views it. Or she may use movement and gesture to show how she feels. As I witness her movement, I can understand her world by empathizing kinesthetically.

The client’s self-knowledge expands as her movement, art, writing, and sound provide clues for further exploration. Using expressive arts becomes a healing process as well as a new language that speaks to both client and therapist. These arts are potent media in which to discover, experience, and accept unknown aspects of self. Verbal therapy focuses on emotional disturbances and inappropriate behavior. The expressive arts move the client into the world of emotions and add a further dimension. Incorporating the arts into psychotherapy offers the client a way to use the free-spirited parts of herself. Therapy may include joyful, lively learning on many levels: the sensory, kinesthetic, conceptual, emotional and mythic. Clients report that the expressive arts have helped them go beyond their problems to envisioning themselves taking action in the world constructively.

What Is Person-Centered?

The person-centered aspect of expressive arts therapy describes the basic philosophy underlying my work. The client-centered or person-centered approach developed by my father, Carl Rogers, emphasizes the therapist’s role as being empathic, open, honest, congruent, and caring as she listens in depth and facilitates the growth of an individual or a group. This philosophy incorporates the belief that each individual has worth, dignity, and the capacity for self-direction. Carl Rogers’s philosophy is based on a trust in an inherent impulse toward growth in every individual. I base my approach to expressive arts therapy on this very deep faith in the innate capacity of each person to reach toward her full potential.

Carl’s research into the psychotherapeutic process revealed that when a client felt accepted and understood, healing occurred. It is a rare experience to feel accepted and understood when you are feeling fear, rage, grief, or jealousy. Yet it is this very acceptance and understanding that heals. As friends and therapists, we frequently think we must have an answer or give advice. However, this overlooks a very basic truth. By genuinely hearing the depth of the emotional pain and respecting the individual’s ability to find her own answer, we are giving her the greatest gift.

Empathy and acceptance give the individual an opportunity to empower herself and discover her unique potential. This atmosphere of understanding and acceptance also allows you, your friends, or your clients to feel safe enough to try expressive arts as a path to becoming whole.

The Creative Connection

I am intrigued with what I call the creative connection: the enhancing interplay among movement, art, writing, and sound. Moving with awareness, for example, opens us to profound feelings which can then be expressed in color, line, or form. When we write immediately after the movement and art, a free flow emerges in the process, sometimes resulting in poetry. The Creative Connection process that I have developed stimulates such self-exploration. It is like the unfolding petals of a lotus blossom on a summer day. In the warm, accepting environment, the petals open to reveal the flower’s inner essence. As our feelings are tapped, they become a resource for further self-understanding and creativity. We gently allow ourselves to awaken to new possibilities. With each opening we may deepen our experience. When we reach our inner core, we find our connection to all beings. We create to connect to our inner source and to reach out to the world and the universe.

Some writers, artists and musicians are already aware of the creative connection. If you are one of those, you may say, “Of course, I always put on music and dance before I paint.” Or, as a writer, you may go for a long walk before you sit at your desk. However, you are not alone if you are one of the many in our society who say, “I’m not creative.” I hope this book entices you to try new experiences. You will surprise yourself.

I believe we are all capable of being profoundly, beautifully creative, whether we use that creativity to relate to family or to paint a picture. The seeds of much of our creativity come from the unconscious, our feelings, and our intuition. The unconscious is our deep well. Many of us have put a lid over that well. Feelings can be constructively channeled into creative ventures: into dance, music, art, or writing. When our feelings are joyful, the art form uplifts. When our feelings are violent or wrathful, we can transform them into powerful art rather than venting them on the world. Such art helps us accept that aspect of ourselves. Self-acceptance is paramount to compassion for others.

The Healing Power of Person-Centered Expressive Arts

I discovered personal healing for myself as I brought together my interests in psychotherapy, art, dance, writing, and music. Person-centered expressive therapy was born out of my personal integration of the arts and the philosophy I had inherited. Through experimentation I gained insight from my art journal. I doodled, let off steam, or played with colors without concern for the outcome. Unsure at first about introducing these methods to clients, I suggested they try things and then asked them for feedback. They said it was helpful. Their self-understanding increased rapidly and the communication between us improved immensely.

The same was true as I introduced movement, sound, and freewriting for self-expression. Clients and group participants reported a sense of “new beginnings” and freedom to be. One group member wrote: “I learned to play again, how to let go of what I ‘know’—my successes, achievements, and knowledge. I discovered the importance of being able to begin again.” Another said: “It is much easier for me to deal with some heavy emotions through expressive play than through thinking and talking about it.”

It became apparent that the Creative Connection process fosters integration. This is clearly stated by one client who said, “I discovered in exploring my feelings that I could break through inner barriers/structures that I set for myself by moving and dancing the emotions. To draw that feeling after the movement continued the process of unfolding.”
It is difficult to convey in words the depth and power of the expressive arts process. I would like to share a personal episode in which using expressive arts helped me through a difficult period. I hope that, in reading it, you will vicariously experience my process of growth through movement, art, and journal writing in an accepting environment.

The months after my father’s death were an emotional roller coaster for me. The loss felt huge, yet there was also a sense that I had been released. My inner feeling was that his passing had opened a psychic door for me as well as having brought great sorrow.

Expressive arts served me well during that time of mourning. Two artist-therapist friends invited me to spend time working with them. Connie Smith Siegel invited me to spend a week at a cottage on Bolinas Bay. I painted one black picture after another. Every time I became bored with such dark images, I would start another painting. It, too, became moody and bleak. Although Connie is primarily an artist, her therapeutic training and ability to accept my emotional state gave me permission to be authentic.

Also, I went to a weekend workshop taught by Coeleen Kiebert and spent more time sculpting and painting. This time the theme was tidal waves—and again, black pictures. One clay piece portrays a head peeking out of the underside of a huge wave. My sense of being overwhelmed by the details of emptying my parents’ home, making decisions about my father’s belongings, and responding to the hundreds of people who loved him was taking its toll. Once again, my art work gave free reign to my feelings and so yielded a sense of relief. Coeleen’s encouragement to use the art experience to release and understand my inner process was another big step. I thought I should be over my grief in a month, but these two women gave me permission to continue expressing my river of sadness. That year my expressive art shows my continued sense of loss as well as an opening to new horizons.

As is often true when someone feels deep suffering, there is also an opening to spiritual realms. Three months after my father’s death, I flew to Switzerland to cofacilitate a training group with artist-therapist Paolo Knill. It was a time when I had a heightened sense of connectedness to people, nature, and my dreams. Amazing events took place in my inner being. I experienced synchronicities, special messages, and remarkable images. One night I found myself awakened by what seemed to be the beating of many large wings in my room. The next morning I drew the experience as best I could.

One afternoon I led our group in a movement activity called “Melting and Growing.” The group divided into pairs, and each partner took turns observing the other dancing, melting, and then growing. Paolo and I participated in this activity together. He was witnessing me as I slowly melted from being very tall to collapsing completely on the floor. Later I wrote in my journal:

I loved the opportunity to melt, to let go completely. When I melted into the floor I felt myself totally relax. I surrendered! Instantaneously I experienced being struck by incredible light. Although my eyes were closed, all was radiant. Astonished, I lay quietly for a moment, then slowly started to “grow,” bringing myself to full height.

I instructed the group participants to put their movement experiences into art. All-encompassing light is difficult to paint, but I tried to capture that stunning experience in color.

Reflecting on these experiences, it seems that my heart had cracked open. This left me both vulnerable and with great inner strength and light. A few days later another wave picture emerged. This time bright blue/green water was illumined with pink/gold sky.

These vignettes are part of my inner journey. I share them for two reasons. First, I wish to illustrate the transformative power of the expressive arts. Second, I want to point out that person-centered expressive therapy is based on very specific humanistic principles. For instance, it was extremely important that I was with people who allowed me to be in my grief and tears rather than patting me on the shoulder and telling me everything would be all right. I knew that if I had something to say, I would be heard and understood. When I told Paolo that I had the sensation of being struck with light, he could have said, “That was just your imagination.” However, he not only understood, he told me he had witnessed the dramatic effect on my face.

Humanistic Principles

Since not all psychologists agree with the principles embodied in this book, it seems important to state them clearly as the foundation for all that follows:

  • All people have an innate ability to be creative.
  • The creative process is healing. The expressive product supplies important messages to the individual. However, it is the process of creation that is profoundly transformative.
  • Personal growth and higher states of consciousness are achieved through self-awareness, self-understanding, and insight.
  • Self-awareness, understanding, and insight are achieved by delving into our emotions. The feelings of grief, anger, pain, fear, joy, and ecstasy are the tunnel through which we must pass to get to the other side: to self-awareness, understanding, and wholeness.
  • Our feelings and emotions are an energy source. That energy can be channeled into the expressive arts to be released and transformed.
  • The expressive arts—including movement, art, writing, sound, music, meditation, and imagery—lead us into the unconscious. This often allows us to express previously unknown facets of ourselves, thus bringing to light new information and awareness.
  • Art modes interrelate in what I call the creative connection. When we move, it affects how we write or paint. When we write or paint, it affects how we feel and think. During the creative connection process, one art form stimulates and nurtures the other, bringing us to an inner core or essence which is our life energy.
  • A connection exists between our life-force—our inner core, or soul—and the essence of all beings.
  • Therefore, as we journey inward to discover our essence or wholeness, we discover our relatedness to the outer world. The inner and outer become one.

My approach to therapy is also based on a psychodynamic theory of individual and group process:

  • Personal growth takes place in a safe, supportive environment.
  • A safe, supportive environment is created by facilitators (teachers, therapists, group leaders, parents, colleagues) who are genuine, warm, empathic, open, honest, congruent, and caring.
  • These qualities can be learned best by first being experienced.
  • A client-therapist, teacher-student, parent-child, wife-husband, or intimate-partners relationship can be the context for experiencing these qualities.
  • Personal integration of the intellectual, emotional, physical, and spiritual dimensions occurs by taking time to reflect on and evaluate these experiences.

The accompanying figure shows the Creative Connection process and principles, using expressive arts therapy. It shows how all art forms affect each other. Our visual art is changed by our movement and body rhythm. It is also influenced when we meditate and become receptive, allowing intuition to be active. Likewise, our movement can be affected by our visual art and writing, and so forth. All the creative processes help us find our inner essence or source. And when we find that inner source, we tap into the universal energy source, or the collective unconscious, or the transcendental experience.

Come with me, if you will, on a journey of inner exploration to awaken your creativity. Perhaps you are a writer who shies away from visual art, or an artist who says,”I can’t dance,” or a therapist who would like to discover methods for enhancing the counselor-client relationship. I invite you into your own secret garden.

Psychotherapy for Oppositional-Defiant Kids with Low Frustration Tolerance – and How to Help Their Parents, Too

Childhood temperament is the elephant in the living room of child psychotherapy. Just as the influence of substance use and abuse on clients' behavior problems was often minimized by psychotherapists before the 1970s, the importance of temperament in children's behavior problems is becoming an increasingly essential part of child and family therapy.

After 30 years of working with children and parents, I am convinced that, barring developmental disorders or a major family tragedy, most children who come to therapy have higher-maintenance temperaments (i.e., frequently described as difficult, spirited, or challenging) that frustrate typical parenting approaches.1 Some parents are unable to effectively deal with certain children who try their patience despite having no such difficulty with their other children. Here I will focus on one aspect of childhood temperament, frustration tolerance, its relationship with Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD), and how such concerns can be worked on in therapy with children and their parents. I will also examine the important role played by the therapist's inevitable personal reactions in the therapeutic process.

ODD and Children's Frustrations

When I worked with James R. Cameron, Ph.D. at the Preventive Ounce2, we observed that children with low frustration tolerance are at risk for becoming oppositional. We saw that parents often responded to these kids in ways that exacerbated their problematic behavior. ODD has also been related to the child's temperament and the family's response to that temperament. This model helps therapists work with the child's temperament, the parent's style, and the interaction between the two.

In the same vein, Barkley3 states that "children who are easily prone to emotional responses (high emotionality) are often irritable, have poor habit regulation, are highly active, and/or are more inattentive and impulsive and appear more likely . . . to demonstrate defiant and coercive behavior than are children not having such negative temperamental characteristics." He also notes that "immature, inexperienced, impulsive, inattentive, depressed, hostile, rejecting, or otherwise negatively temperamental parents are more likely to have defiant and aggressive children."

DSM-IV-TR4 (2000) and ODD

  • ODD . . . is a pattern of negativistic, hostile, and defiant behavior lasting at least 6 months.
  • In males, the disorder has been shown to be more prevalent among those who, in the preschool years, have problematic temperaments (e.g. high reactivity, difficulty being soothed.) ODD . . . usually becomes evident before age 8 years and usually not later than in early adolescence . . .
  • The oppositional symptoms often emerge in the home setting but over time may appear in other settings as well. Onset is typically gradual, usually occurring over the course of months or years..Often loses temper, often argues with adults, often actively defies or refuses to comply with adults' requests or rules, often deliberately annoys people, often blames others for his or her mistakes or misbehaviors, is often touchy or easily annoyed by others, is often angry and resentful, and is often spiteful or vindictive.

ODD and Low Frustration Tolerance

Children with low frustration tolerance are adamant in wanting to end the cause of their frustration as quickly as possible. When they are having a hard time with a task (e.g., homework, some tasks they don't immediately understand, or a toy or game that they can't make work the way they want), they find that the best way to eliminate their frustration is to stop trying and do something else instead. If they want to do something and their parent (or another adult) won't let them do it, the best way to eliminate their frustration is to act in ways that might get the adult to change their mind and leave them to their own desires and interests.

“It is worth noting that except for being spiteful and vindictive, ODD traits and behaviors listed in the DSM represent how many children usually act when they don't want to do what they are told to do.” The children that meet DSM criteria are diagnosed with ODD, but they could also likely be children with low frustration tolerance who are acting oppositionally in an effort to eliminate their frustration. The behavior that a parent or adult calls oppositional may also, in fact, be a child's age-appropriate response to a developmentally inappropriate limit set by the parent or environment.

How Parents Make it Better or Worse

How do parents make their kids' frustration tolerance better or worse? Note that it is important to allow the child to be frustrated with life pressures and stresses rather than preventing age-appropriate frustrations. Indeed, a key task of parenting is to help children gradually take on more difficult tasks so they learn how to tolerate frustration as well as regulate emotional reactions. The work on how optimal levels of frustration relate to learning,5 how attachment develops,6 and how managing affect in disorders of the self7 point to the importance of parents helping children learn how to manage frustration. Clearly, parents make the situation better or worse by how they interact with their child. Parents make things better by setting appropriate limits, managing their own anxiety, reinforcing positive behaviors, and understanding the motivations of the child. Certainly, parents can behave in ways that make matters worse via what I call the Argument Trap and the Overly Helpful Parent.

The Argument Trap!

One way a parent can worsen the situation is by arguing with the child too much when the child doesn't do what he is asked. Here, the parent, after setting a limit for their child, keeps responding to the child's objections in an effort to have the child understand the parent's logic. This attempt to explain the limit and convince the child of its necessity often results in the child becoming more upset. The parent may then even punish the child for not complying with the limit. But since the child's goal is to remove the frustrating limit, as long as the parent and child are arguing, the child can hope that the parent changes their mind. If the parent gives in, the child is being taught to argue again next time. If the parent punishes the child, then the child has an additional reason to blame their parent for not removing their frustration.

To help a child with low frustration tolerance accept limits, the parent needs to let the child complain about the limit and have the last word, even if the last word is provocative. The parent needs to stick to the limit (unless there is good reason to give in) and not try to convince the child to agree with the limit. The child is less likely to keep arguing if the parent is not responding in kind. The parent ideally needs to set a limit, repeat the limit in as calm a voice as possible, suggest alternatives for the child, and then stop talking about the limit. Restrictions and/or time-outs can be helpful in calming the child, but when the child becomes highly agitated, these methods are often ineffective. In this case, the parent's goal is to shift the child from complaining about a limit to finding something else to do since the child can't do what they want. Thus, the argument is avoided, the child is re-engaged in an activity, and the child learns to better cope with their reactions and emotions.

The Overly Helpful Parent

Another way that parents inadvertently increase their children's low frustration tolerance is by helping their children too much when their children are faced with challenging tasks. Parents naturally help their children countless times each day. But low-frustration-tolerance children will often ask for help without trying enough on their own before seeking help. They tend to give up too soon without really testing themselves, and want the adult to jump in and solve the problem or complete the task at hand. When the parent helps too quickly, the child learns to immediately resort to fussing when frustrated, because this yields the desired results. Remember: removing the frustration is the primary goal for the low frustration tolerance child; solving the problem itself takes on secondary importance.

To help the low-frustration-tolerance child persist at a task such as homework, the parent needs to answer the child's questions when the child is able to listen to the answers. The parent also needs to help the child learn skills for dealing with frustrating situations, such as taking a break or dividing up the homework in smaller chunks and doing one part at a time. When children are upset and frustrated, they don't listen well (if at all!) until they have calmed down. “The parent's role is to help the child learn how to handle frustrating situations, not to quickly solve the frustrating situation for the child.” For example, when a parent has been helping a low-frustration-tolerance child too much with his homework, backing off from helping may lead to the child receiving worse grades for a while. But when a parent takes too much responsibility for getting homework done, the child doesn't take enough responsibility and does not learn how to cope with frustration. It is more important to teach the child to take responsibility and to learn how to do homework than it is to help the child complete any particular assignment.

Psychotherapy with ODD Children and their Parents

My hypothesis for why oppositional behavior develops in this fashion is that “parents who don't understand how to handle typical low frustration tolerance behavior have inadvertently reinforced that behavior many times over many years before that behavior becomes oppositional.” Many parents of children who meet the criteria for ODD could actually be diagnosed as having Argumentative Punitive Disorder (or APD—this is not an actual diagnosis, by the way) because they often lose their temper, argue with their children, blame their children for their ineffective parenting, are easily annoyed by their children, and are angry or resentful toward their children. One of the main goals of therapy is to help parents manage their frustration when their children become frustrated. Below, I present several therapeutic guidelines for working with these kids and their parents.

  • Who to meet with? Therapists need to work with the parents as well as the children on a constituent basis, preferably every session. I generally meet with the parent (or parents) before I see the child. We discuss what has happened since the last appointment, how to understand what has happened, and how the parent might try to work with the child before the next appointment. Then I meet with the child alone. Sometimes I meet with the parent and child together—after seeing each of them separately—if there is some issue I think we need to discuss.
  • Breaking the Cycle of Arguing: Parents need help learning how to avoid being argumentative-punitive. They need assistance finding the middle ground between too many limits/not enough limits and too much help/not enough help. This takes time and work to find an approach that is tailored to particular parents and their child.
  • Encouraging Parents: Since one of my therapeutic goals is to increase the parent's ability to help their child gain more frustration tolerance, I continually encourage parents and reinforce their attempts to find more effective ways to work with their child. I keep reminding parents and children that they are meeting with me to learn new ways to deal with their family problems because the way they are handling matters is not working. It is crucial to encourage and engage the child's parent since they are the ones who usually bring the child in, pay for the sessions, and do the majority of the work every day.
  • Validation of Parent Frustration: It is also crucial to validate the parents' feelings of exasperation, anger, and frustration. I empathize with the parents and acknowledge that I would feel similarly if I were parenting their children. I explain again how low frustration tolerance works and encourage the parents to handle their children's oppositional behavior differently even when they feel angry, exasperated, and/or frustrated.
  • Talking to the Child about being Responsible: I find it helpful to talk with the children (in language that makes sense to them) about being more responsible for what they are supposed to do instead of complaining so much about what their parents are doing or not doing. I often remind children that if they do as they are told, even if they don't want to, their parents are more likely to let them do more of what they want to. Learning how to negotiate effectively with parents is a valuable tool for any child, and particularly for these children.
  • How long is therapy? The length of therapy is highly variable depending on the age of the child, the extent of the child's low frustration tolerance, and the parent's ability and motivation to understand how they have been contributing to the problem. If the parent-child dynamic changes quickly and the child is able to respond, treatment may be briefer, but often there are entrenched problems in the family that are best worked on over a longer course of consistent therapy.

Making Use of the Therapist's Experience and Personal Reactions

Working with oppositional low-frustration-tolerance children and their parents has also frequently left me feeling exasperated, angry, incompetent, and . . . you guessed it, frustrated. For instance, when a parent and I discuss at one session how important it is not to argue and yell at the child about homework, and then the parent comes to the next session and reports another escalating homework argument that ended with the child swearing at the parent and the parent calling the child derogatory names, I sometimes feel like arguing and yelling myself. I start thinking: the parent is provoking the child's defiant behavior, the child is not being responsible about homework, I am not facilitating positive change in the family, etc. It is very easy to get sucked into this escalating family system.

I have come to see my reactions to the parent and child as similar to the reactions the parents and child are having to each other. “My feeling that I am not a competent therapist mirrors the parents' feelings that they are not competent parents. My feeling of exasperation parallels the parents' feeling of not knowing what to do when their children continue to be oppositional.” My angry feelings mimic the children's feelings at their parents' inability to manage their own behavior or their not getting their own way all the time.

Understanding and managing these personal reactions help me understand the child and their parent's frustrations more fully, making my limit-setting and direct intervention more empathic. It also helps prevents a critical or punitive therapeutic approach which mirrors the parent's approach, which is both ineffective and off-putting to the family.

I invite psychotherapists who work with children to consider the possibility that ODD is temperament-based low-frustration-tolerance behavior that well-meaning but uninformed parents have inadvertently mismanaged. I believe that psychotherapists who add this approach to their work with oppositional children will increase their effectiveness and be better prepared to manage their own personal reactions to this most difficult yet worthwhile endeavor.

Questions to ask Parents

Does Your Child Have Low Frustration Tolerance?
There is no valid and reliable test that can definitively determine whether a child has low frustration tolerance. Temperament questionnaires, observation and reflection, comparison with other children's behavior in the same situation, and parents' willingness to examine their own feelings about a child can help parents and therapists reach an informed opinion about a child's level of frustration tolerance. Here are some questions for parents to consider:

  • What is your child's temperament? Energetic-positive, energetic-difficult, passive-low energy, easy going?
  • Does your child get frustrated more easily than other children the same age?
  • Does your child get easily frustrated when you set limits? O, does your child get easily frustrated when you want your child to stop doing what they are doing and do something else instead? (Note: Some children are slow to adapt to transitions, changes and intrusions, and are likely to get frustrated when asked to stop what they are doing and do something else. Their response should not be confused with that of children with low frustration tolerance, who will complain when a limit is set but may generally not complain when a family routine is changed, the day's schedule is changed, or if you interrupt them when they are doing something. Of course, a child can be slow to adapt to changes and also have low frustration tolerance.)
  • Do you give in more often than you think you should when your child complains about a limit? Do you find yourself getting annoyed because your child keeps testing limits?
  • Is your child able to play alone or with friends in their own room or do they always have to be with you? Do you often tell your child to "go play" while you try to finish a task?
  • Has your child's frustration tolerance decreased suddenly? Has something happened recently (e.g., the birth of a sibling, a change in teachers, a death, a divorce, an illness) that could have upset your child and made your child more easily frustrated about things than previously so? If so, your child's frustration tolerance should improve as you both deal with the feelings associated with the event or change that has occurred.

References

1Chess, S., & Thomas, A. (1989) Know your child: An authoritative guide for today's parents. (New York: Basic Books)

2Cameron, J.R. & Rice, D. (2000). The Preventive Ounce Web Site. www.preventiveoz.org. (Oakland, CA: The Preventive Ounce)

3Barkley, R. A. (1997). Defiant Children, Second Edition: A Clinician's Manual for Assessment and Parent Training. New York: The Guilford Press

4American Psychiatric Association, (2000). Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fourth Edition, Text Revision. (Washington, D.C.: American Psychiatric Association)

5Stern, D. (1985) The Interpersonal World of the Infant. (New York: Basic Books)

6Hughes, D. (1998) Building the Bonds of Attachment. (Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson)

7Schore, A. (2003). Affect Dysregulation and Disorders of the Self. (New York: W.W. Norton) 

Practical Psychoanalysis for Therapists and Patients

The Stuff of New Yorker Cartoons

No surprise, then, that psychoanalysis has come to be regarded by the public at large as an esoteric practice which promotes a self-involved escape from real life, rather than a treatment method that helps the patient live real life more happily. No surprise, either, that all over the world fewer and fewer patients seek psychoanalytic treatment, and that those who do are for the most part people who want to become psychoanalysts themselves or fellow travelers who have an intellectual interest in the field. Clinical psychoanalysis has become, deservedly, the stuff of New Yorker cartoons.

This unfortunate state of affairs is ironic, considering that psychoanalysis got its start on the basis of its therapeutic efficacy. In the course of their researches, Breuer and Freud stumbled upon a method for relieving notoriously difficult to treat hysterical symptoms. Though Freud was a fascinating and imaginative writer who developed far-reaching ideas about culture and society, as well as about individual psychology, the world originally paid attention to him because of the extraordinary cures he and Breuer achieved—and achieved very rapidly, too, in contrast to the expectations of contemporary psychoanalysts.

Unscientific Analysis

Clinical psychoanalysis has become impractical, but it does not have to be impractical. In order to offer patients practical psychoanalysis, however, clinicians cannot conduct treatment on the basis of received wisdom. To begin with, psychoanalysts cannot assume the virtue of any particular set of procedures—use of the couch, frequency of sessions, even the method of free association. These are techniques, and in the progressive development of any scientifically based clinical practice, techniques will alter, even alter dramatically, as empirical evidence accumulates; some prove valuable and are retained, others are discarded. Only two hundred years ago, for example, the best available medical science indicated that bleeding the patient through use of leeches or by venicotomy was part of the responsible standard of care for most illnesses. Almost every patient who consulted a physician was bled. We now know that this technique, which was practiced as state of the art by the best physicians for centuries, was useless in almost all cases and dangerously detrimental in many.

Beyond Theory

If practical psychoanalysis cannot be defined in terms of any particular theory or technique, how can it be defined? The sensible way to define practical psychoanalysis is in terms of its area of study and its objectives. Sciences are usually defined in terms of their subject areas and applied sciences in terms of their objectives (e.g., chemistry is the study of compounds and pharmaceutics is the creation of useful drugs by applying chemical knowledge). Psychoanalysis is a scientific study of the mind, and clinical psychoanalysis an application of psychoanalytic science to therapy. “Practical clinical psychoanalysis is a treatment that aims to help the patient feel less distress and more satisfaction in daily life through improved understanding of how his or her mind works.” Another way to put this is to say that in a successful practical analysis the patient is able to revise various aspects of the way he or she constructs reality, with the result that the patient feels better.

We might even take a traditional view, following Freud, and add that practical analysis brings the unconscious into consciousness. However, if we want to continue to use that conception, we must be prepared to update our definition of “the unconscious.” It was Freud’s idea that clinical psychoanalysis brings into conscious awareness certain thoughts that are available to consciousness but remain unconscious because the patient is motivated not to be aware of them—what Freud termed repressed thoughts or the dynamic unconscious. And it is true that successful practical analysis usually does, to a certain extent, involve the patient identifying ideas, feelings, memories, etc. that he or she has been holding out of conscious awareness for one reason or another. But it is also true that a very significant part of what happens in practical analysis consists of the patient becoming conscious of thoughts that have never been repressed, thoughts that the patient simply never had the opportunity to think before. These thoughts arise from novel perspectives provided by the analyst—explicitly or implicitly, intentionally or unintentionally—in the course of an intimate, mutually engaged exploration with the patient of his or her difficulties.

Doing What Works

Unfortunately, practical psychoanalysts tend not to publicize what they do with patients; instead, they quietly set many traditional psychoanalytic theories and techniques aside and go about doing what works. Good for practical psychoanalysts and for their patients! But not good for the field. There are many clinicians who would like to learn more about how to conduct a practical psychoanalytic treatment, and many patients who would like to know how to recognize one. This book is addressed to readers in both categories.

In the chapters that follow, I will discuss what I have found to be basic principles of practical psychoanalytic treatment. I will use a casebook format, presenting concepts via illustrative clinical examples. I do that for two reasons: first, because I find that abstract formulations about psychoanalytic theory and technique, by themselves, are difficult to understand, let alone apply on the line in work with patients; and second, because my recommendations are not based upon findings from systematic, controlled empirical research (nobody’s recommendations are, in psychoanalysis, since adequate research methods have not yet been developed) and I want to share with readers, as best I can, the clinical experiences that have led me to reach my conclusions.

This is not intended as a scholarly volume. I haven’t presented a survey of the literature, noting whose ideas have been the same or similar to mine and whose have been different. No background in psychoanalysis is required to understand what I have written. When I speak of an “analyst,” I do not refer to someone who has attended an official psychoanalytic training program; I only mean a psychoanalytically informed psychotherapist—and since most of Freud’s important ideas have long since percolated into the cultural surround, any contemporary psychotherapist who is at all eclectic in his or her orientation will inevitably be psychoanalytically informed. My aim is to discuss in a down-to-earth way what, in my experience, can be useful for both analyst and patient to keep in mind when collaborating in an effort to help the latter feel better; and I think the best way for me to do that is to offer a collection of anecdotes, together with my thoughts about them.

Excerpted and adapted from Practical Psychoanalysis for Therapists and Patients by Owen Renik, MD. Published on Psychotherapy.net with written permission from the author. 

Also see An Interview with Owen Renik, MD.

Please note that the CE test covers BOTH this article and the interview noted above.

The Tao of Direction: Structure and Process in Clinical Supervision

Most of my time in the hospital where I work is spent providing clinical supervision in psychotherapy. My supervisees are a mixed lot in terms of their training: doctoral students in clinical psychology, psychiatric residents and fellows, as well as bachelor-level line staff. Naturally, my style of supervision varies according to their experience and training, but not as much as one might think. Advanced psychiatric fellows who have completed their residency training and are pursuing postdoctoral studies sometimes get anxious about the stuff of basic psychotherapy: what to say next, what to do if a patient is mad at them, and so forth. On the other side of the coin, there are milieu therapists without any college training who can craft and implement therapeutic interventions stunning in their creativity and depth. There is no clear way to tell what sort of therapist a person will be from the degree and training they have—a counterintuitive truth reflected in the research which documents the lack of correlation between therapist training and therapist efficacy. The unpredictability of what kind of therapist a student will turn out to be is part of what's interesting about my job—the job of clinical supervisor.

There is, however, a great divide between the students that I supervise, a difference only minimally related to their training and professional background. This great divide is their need for, and comfort with, structure and process in supervision. It's a difference that is certainly echoed in certain stylistic differences between schools of psychotherapy (e.g., psychodynamic theory vs. CBT), and between certain professional tracks (e.g., psychiatry vs. social work). Despite these culturally encrypted differences, therapists from a variety of backgrounds fall into a variety of places along the structure-process spectrum.

One of the best examples of these differences comes from a course in psychiatric interviewing that I co-lead along with a psychiatrist who is also heavily involved in training. Some students have a hard time adjusting their diagnostic interviewing techniques to their client's developmental level. In other words, you can't really do a standard mental status exam with a six-year-old and expect to get much data. On the other hand, while a play session with a child can yield a tremendous amount of information, it is useless for assessment purposes if not driven by a fairly conscious and thought-out plan (examining social interactions, assessing whether the child is reacting to internal stimuli, formal testing, etc.). In the course of learning to teach the best method for assessing children, my colleague and I have to weigh what students need to offer the best approach for each client. For some, they need let go of the crutch of the History of Present Illness and Mental Status Exam in order to really listen to the child and catch the flow of moods and interactions. For others, they need clear direction and tools by which they might make sense of the child's often chaotic presentation. These are quite different needs, but both are the responsibility of the supervisor to understand and address with each supervisee.

In this paper, I will use the Chinese philosophy of Taoism as a metaphor for understanding these different needs, particularly approaches to clinical supervision. In traditional Chinese philosophy, universal balance is represented by the popular Tao symbol: a depiction of the contrasting forces of yin and yang in constant and creative symmetrical tension (see the symbol at top). “The aim of the sage, according to the classic text the Tao Te Ching, is to remain "centered in the Tao."”1 This is also referred to as the state of wu wei—literally, 'doing nothing', although understood as the state of balance that allows the operation of the principle of the Tao. In psychotherapy supervision, a similar creative tension exists between structure and process. The sage role in this case is fulfilled, of course, by the psychotherapy supervisor.

Creative Tension in Psychotherapy Supervision

The very discussion of supervision as a complex and multifaceted interaction may be somewhat surprising to many supervisees. In my experience, students frequently think of "supervision" as being entirely directed by the overall feel or personality of the supervisor, as in the frequent comment, "Paula is a good (or positive, bad, aloof, or intense) supervisor," as if there were only one form of supervision of which each teacher was capable.

As anyone who has spent some years as a clinical supervisor knows, there are a variety of schools of thought regarding the best form of supervision. These schools of thought are frequently related to the theoretical orientation of the supervisor, and the difference between and within these different philosophies can create a kind of dynamic tension within supervision. This tension is often embodied in contrasting comfort levels of student and teacher with different supervisory techniques, and can be thought of as occurring within a spectrum ranging from highly didactic and directional to highly exploratory and relational: the yin and yang of supervision.

Yang… Technique-based Supervision

On one end of the spectrum lies the pole of absolute structure. Let's call this pole the yang of supervisory technique. “In the yang mode, the supervisor and trainee approach psychotherapy supervision as a matter for technical instruction, in which the supervisor instructs the trainee in the technique of psychotherapy.” Supervision in this mode is dominated by a didactic approach, wherein the teacher instructs students in techniques and interventions. This may include instruction in the use of manualized treatments, specific techniques and theoretical points, assigned readings, and what to say and not say in therapy. The aim is to instruct the trainee in specific ways of doing therapy, and for the trainee to demonstrate increasing proficiency in this technique, as evaluated by the supervisor.

In this mode, student success is measured by the degree to which they adhere to the specific instructions provided by the supervisor. At worst, this technique-based approach results in humorless, dry, and rigid supervision that leaves students feeling as if their own ideas, personality, and technique have no value; however, it can be a great comfort. “I can remember a number of occasions when I wanted nothing more than for my supervisor to tell me exactly what to do.” These were generally occasions during which I felt insecure, out on a therapeutic limb, or in danger from an ambiguous or delicate situation with a client. Students especially yearn for direct guidance when confronted with crisis situations or confusing boundaries. Whenever the student is frightened by the natural ambiguity of the therapy situation, clear direction can seem like a safe port in a storm.

There may, of course, be times when a supervisee needs to feel assaulted by ambiguity in order to develop the toughness and resilience they need in order to do the work. However, prolonged duress never leads to growth, and for novice therapists, anxious therapists, and therapists in crisis, a good dose of yang supervision can be a very good thing.

Yin… Process-based Supervision

At the other pole lies what we might call the yin of supervision. “In the yin mode, the supervisor engages the trainee in an examination of the process of psychotherapy.” Supervision at this end of the spectrum is non-directive: the student is encouraged to express feelings about, and associations to, the clinical material. This may include frequent commentary on the parallel process that occurs in the supervisory relationship, as well as explorations into the student's state of mind and emotional reaction to both the therapy and the supervision. The aim is for the supervisee to explore, as broadly as possible, the experience of doing psychotherapy, and verbalize any of the unconscious conflicts or anxieties that impede their development.

In this mode, a student's success is measured by the degree to which the trainee demonstrates his or her own emerging therapeutic style. At its worst, process-based supervision can lead into a vague terrain that resembles a cross between poor psychotherapy and a social occasion. Students often complain of this happening, saying that their supervisors "always answer a question with a question." Although this may sound like an exaggeration, or even a joke, it is all too often a real assessment of their supervision.

In contrast to the rigidity of yang supervision, yin supervision risks leading to a feeling on the part of the students that they have literally learned nothing. However, when done well, this process-based form of attention can lead to the richest and most rewarding of supervisory experiences: those when the student begins to experience the pervasive nature of process which echoes through therapy, supervision, and other interactions. One of my most treasured memories of psychology internship supervision was my child therapy supervisor teaching me to return again and again to the process of play with my young clients, which led to my dawning recognition of the success of my interventions. In yin supervision, the process makes itself known.

Working The Yin-Yang Supervision Balance

Supervisors tend to find their own teaching style on this yin-yang spectrum based on their own training and personalities. Those supervisors who are more behaviorally oriented and solution focused tend to cluster towards the more structured side while those who are more psychodynamic and existential tend towards the more process-focused side. However, this general statement has a thousand exceptions: Robert Langs is as concerned with the precise structure of an intervention as a behaviorist, and the new breed of Zen CBT practitioners (like Jeremy Safran) are exquisitely attuned to process. The balance between structure and process varies within and between each school of therapy. Yet another wrinkle is the effect of the interaction between supervisor and student on this balance. I have been struck by the degree to which students, based on their own personalities, prior training, and the style of their supervisor, insist upon either more yin or more yang.

When I have supervised students in process-oriented, psychodynamically based programs, their most frequent request has been for basic and specific instruction in the craft of psychotherapy. “These students often complain that their training is long on theory and short on practical advice on what to say to the client.” Students can speak with great authority and insight about their own processes and anxiety regarding treatment, but sometimes have few ideas about dealing with a session that runs over time, taking a basic mental status exam, or confronting a parent in family therapy. In these situations I tend towards a concrete, detailed brand of structured supervision as shown in the following supervision with Steven.

Supervising Steven

Steven was a third-year doctoral student in clinical psychology, participating in the practicum program (which I directed at the time) in a large state psychiatric hospital. Steven was bright, articulate, and a pleasure to talk with. Early in the supervision process, he began to talk in articulate detail about his relationships with his patients and the feelings they evoked. He noticed and articulated precise, delicate points of countertransference, and related them to his own childhood and family experiences. Since Steven's love for process discussions paralleled my own, I was happy to engage in a sort of philosophical free-floating supervision. When Steven was assigned the case of an angry and highly verbal young patient with a history of serious acting out, he was initially excited at the prospect of conducting in-depth therapy. However, it rapidly became clear that his patient was unable to tolerate even mild explorations of charged issues and Steven became resistant to discussing the case. After a supervisory session in which Steven had difficulty relating the most basic, concrete details about his client's functioning, I realized that something was clearly amiss. I asked him to tell me, in concrete detail, what the session had been like. He admitted that he had little idea of how to proceed with the patient without angering him. I realized that Steven was not comfortable navigating the early stages of alliance-building with a client who was difficult to engage and that he needed some specific instructions. We talked in concrete detail about chair placement and session length and crafted several scripted interventions. Steven later told me that he had been embarrassed to ask such basic questions, but felt greatly relieved by my willingness to give him step-by-step suggestions for this client who had overwhelmed his knowledge acquired with much healthier patients.

In contrast, students from more experimentally based programs (like CBT or other manualized approaches) seem more confident in employing a variety of thoroughly researched and empirically validated techniques, but are not as able to verbalize their own sense of how therapy is progressing. These students are often paralyzed by anxiety when faced with situations that do not conform to the manual and have little understanding of how their own feelings about their clients play out in the course of therapy. With these students, I have found myself adopting a free-floating and exploratory approach to supervision, encouraging them to verbalize and explore their own experience of their treatment. Of course, this fits my preference for the yin supervisory style.

Supervising Gayle


Gayle, unlike Steven, was in her fourth year at a highly regarded research-heavy and behavioral-oriented doctoral program in clinical psychology. Working in a hospital setting made Gayle anxious but she was one of the better students I had ever supervised. She rapidly took to assessment and group therapy, particularly when working with manualized treatments. Gayle was a consummate professional—well-groomed, well-spoken, and in general, the stereotype of a successful lawyer or businessperson, not the typical doctoral student in psychology. I was impressed with Gayle, and perhaps more significantly, proud of Gayle. I suspect that feelings of pride evolve in all clinical supervisors, feelings sometimes evocative of parental pride, in particular towards promising, impressive students, and Gayle was nothing if not impressive.

As Gayle approached her third month in training with me, I noticed that she tended to be very reticent in taking on longer-term individual therapy cases. In her screening interview she had been direct in saying that her interest was not individual therapy, but I had assumed that she would show the same professional enthusiasm in this task as she had in others and would treat it as a challenge. After encouraging Gayle a number of times to take an individual therapy case and encountering her resistance, I realized that our structured and technical supervision sessions were not getting at the real issue. Despite my hesitation at the prospect of altering the pattern of a largely successful supervisory interaction, I set aside an hour of the supervision to talk, in an open-ended way, about her reluctance to take on individual cases. Although she was initially resistant to this discussion, I stayed the course, letting her set the pace and being utterly nondirective. Although the discussion ended up spanning three sessions of supervision, and included some lengthy periods of silence with which we were both uncomfortable, Gayle was able to finally discuss in detail her anxiety about her ambiguous and unstructured client interactions. With that admission, and my recognition that I had been exerting an unconscious pressure on her to maintain her 'perfect student' façade, we began the slow process of training her in individual psychotherapy. Gayle had needed some yin supervision that I had finally been able to supply.

Listening for Gaps in Supervisee Skills

In supervision, as in psychotherapy, the challenge is to allow the trainee to move beyond rigid adherence to structure or process towards a graceful transition along the spectrum depending upon what is most necessary at the time. In order for students to learn this graceful transition, we as supervisors also must take the same journey towards greater flexibility. Of course, we can't all be the best at every style and approach, but stretching a bit is in the interest of everyone, student and supervisor. For myself, this has involved a greater willingness to meet the student's need for greater structure by finding the kind of structure that I can endorse, which can be a great challenge, professionally and personally. This same stretching is necessary for those supervisors who do not naturally explore the process of therapy. To the extent that I have been able to meet the challenge, the key for me has been learning to listen more fully and deeply to what my students need, and this, in the end, may be the key to understanding and utilizing the Tao of supervision: the need for balance.

I remember a conversation I had with a student who was recounting her anxiety over whether or not she was sufficiently empathically attuned to her client. I responded by telling her that she was worried enough about that issue that she didn't need to focus on it at all; I certainly didn't have such concerns about it. Instead, I recommended that she focus on creating sufficient structure within the therapy to provide a safe container for her client. In other words, she should cultivate a safe place for exploration and understanding. She was putting all her energy on one side of the Tao of therapy. I tried to invest the other side with energy in order to achieve some balance. She knew that she was unbalanced—her anxiety told her that. Only by listening to her was I able to learn that as well and provide the right balance of supervision that she needed to keep growing in her work.

In Taoist philosophy, truth does not lie in one pole or the other, in yin or in yang. Instead, the task of the sage is to provide what is lacking for balance. “In becoming better supervisors, our job is to listen for the gaps in our students' skills, the aridity in the overly structured pedant, the looseness and fuzziness in the "touchy-feely" therapist, and to provide what is lacking”—not because the students need to become more like us, but because striving for balance is growth enhancing and valuable in itself.

When they think they know the answers
People are difficult to guide
When they know that they don't know
People can find their own way


Notes

1 All quotes from Tao Te Ching (S. Mitchell, trans.), HarperPerennial; 1991.

Clinical Wisdom: A Psychoanalyst Learns from his Mistakes

Identifying and trying to learn from one’s own clinical mistakes is often a painful experience, but can be an invaluable source of clinical wisdom. Here, I will share with you several significant mistakes that I have made over the 40 years that I have been practicing and teaching psychotherapy and psychoanalysis which have been extremely helpful to me and my supervisees. I hope that my self-disclosures and self-discoveries will evoke in you an active reflection on your own work and provide a source of professional growth.

My Two Most Difficult Patients

This was the beginning of the end of our relationship. His demeaning, hostile sarcasm, already intense, increased; there were fewer moments of his working on his real concerns and increased attacks on me. “John said, as he had frequently over the two year course of treatment, that the therapy was not helping, that I was totally incompetent and that he was going to quit therapy with me.” He responded to my attempts at exploration with depreciation of me and threats to leave therapy. But this time he meant it. He quit. He did not show for his next appointment nor answer my several phone calls. I felt both guilty and much relieved at the same time!

Mary, a single teacher in her mid-forties, was referred to me by a female colleague who had treated her for several years and now believed that Mary needed to work with a male therapist because she had never succeeded in having any long-term relationships with men, despite her longing for this. Though the first few years of our relationship were stormy, with her rages alternating with moderate depression, externalization and fluctuating mistrust of me, Mary made encouraging progress. She and I were both pleased that she developed a relationship with a real boyfriend for the first time, leading her to experience sex for the first time in her life, while at the same time she was becoming less argumentative with her fellow teachers. Sometime later, an event took place that was the beginning of the catastrophic end of our therapy. Her brother and his wife gave birth to a baby, which thrilled her parents. She became furious with her brother for what she experienced as a total loss in the rivalry for her parents’ attention and love. Through a friend who knew me, she found out that I also had a young child. Her hostile and at times rageful feelings toward her brother generalized to me. This morphed into a psychotic-like transference in which I not only had a young child like her brother but she said that I started to look like him.

When I questioned her about this, she said that my gestures and sitting posture were just like her “shitty” brother. My efforts at compassionate communication for her parental loss, reality testing and transference interpretation over several months had little effect upon Mary, leaving me frustrated and seriously discouraged. Mary quit therapy within a few months, saying that the therapy was no longer helping and that she would never see another therapist. Again I felt relief, but questioned—What could I have done differently? Could I have helped her continue her previous progress?

So, what did I learn from these two experiences? Obviously with John I needed to find a second hour, but I did not because he would not try to understand his almost constant demeaning of me and therapy, which I could not tolerate. With Mary I learned two lessons. One, psychotic-like transferences, when not resolved, can lead to the destruction of even a moderately successful therapy. Secondly, I needed help with my intense frustration and discouragement. However, the salient lesson with both patients was that when working with extremely difficult patients, careful self-reflection and occasional consultation are often not enough. I really needed continuous consultation or supervision to help both with the challenging technical issues and my uncomfortable countertransference. “My false pride that I should not need such regular consultation interfered with the possibility of breaking through the impasse in both therapies.” Since I had been supervising therapists and analysts, I felt that I should not need regular consultation. And I believe that, unfortunately, such a position is implicitly supported in some analytic institutes and other post-graduate training centers.

But if I had had a weekly or bi-weekly consultant, what could have been different? For one, the consultant might have helped me understand the dynamic issues and specific approaches that I was not seeing. Secondly, he could have assisted me with my powerful countertransferences through understanding and compassionate support. Would the outcome have been different? I am not sure, but I would have felt more confident that I did all I could for my patient and in my role as a psychotherapist.

Benevolent Values Can Interfere with Effective Treatment

How do I understand this premature termination? I believe my value of loving parents raising healthy children interfered with my being attuned with Kathy’s needs. Later I learned that Kathy was so determined not to have children that she underwent a tubal ligation. “Even our so-called benevolent values may be incongruent with our patients’ values and can mess up the treatment.” In retrospect, I see that in my eagerness to encourage a lovely young woman to carry out my value to become a mother, I responded to my wishes and lost track of Kathy’s needs not to become a mother. I certainly should not have pursued this issue the second time around.

Over-identification with Our Own Therapists

Therefore, it is not surprising that as a neophyte analyst I identified, and in fact over-identified, with both of them. David was a wonderful empathic listener who infrequently questioned and interpreted. I experienced him as a warm compassionate presence, genuinely interested in me. This analysis helped me immeasurably to discover and accept the deeper shadow aspects of myself, as well as resolve some minor symptoms. So, I too became a very good listener who seldom interpreted with my patients. A supervisor pointed out that, unlike me, some of my patients needed a more active use of inquiry and interpretation in addition to careful listening. She was certainly right. While we can learn from our own personal analysis or therapy, we need to be aware that what is good for us is not always best for others.

Becca, my group therapist, by contrast actively intervened and was emotionally very expressive. She also believed in few traditional limits in group therapy, such as the rule against socializing outside the group. This group experience which included extra-group socializing was very beneficial to me and to most of the high-functioning group members. Therefore, with my own therapy groups I used Becca’s agreement that it was okay to socialize outside of the group. Within a few years of conducting and supervising groups, I saw that permission to socialize was detrimental for some groups. For example, some socializing leads to major enactments outside the group which are never discussed in the group because of such reasons as shame, wanting to keep a secret relationship or fear of retaliation from group members or therapists. Gradually, I developed my own way of structuring outside group contact, which fit me and my patient populations better.

In more formal psychoanalytic terms, I had initially introjected David and Becca whole, but gradually was able to differentiate from them, keeping the good part objects (that which fit me) and eliminating that which did not fit me or my patients. “In everyday terms, I became truer to the way I work best and to the unique needs of my patients and groups.” I learned some extremely valuable lessons from my two analysts. However, as I developed more confidence in myself I was able to let go of the idealized internalization of my analysts and start to become the analyst and therapist who fit my character and my patients.

Collaboration with Other Analysts Treating the Same Patient

Much to my surprise, Oscar’s individual analyst said to me, “You group therapists are strange ducks. . . . you don’t understand that such talk between us will interfere with the treatment. Only if there is a suicidal or homicidal emergency should we contact each other.” Unfortunately, I agreed to treat Oscar under this restriction. The group, a good composition for Oscar, enabled him to play out a central dynamic underlying his chronic friction with men and his inability to sustain a meaningful relationship with a woman. He frequently attacked me and two of the other three men in the group, while placating and sweet-talking the three women in the group. Then one of those felicitous accidents happened. One session, all three women were absent, leaving Oscar alone with me and the three other male group members. Oscar’s behavior changed dramatically in this session. He not only did not attack us but became friendly to me and the other men. All of us, including Oscar, noticed this marked change. The following week when two of the women returned, Oscar reverted to his typical attack on men and his seduction of the women. When this remarkable behavioral change was brought to his attention, he strongly denied it. Group members suggested that Oscar talk to his individual analyst about the discrepancy between the group’s and his perception of his behavior when the women were and were not present in the group, but he refused, insisting that there was nothing different to talk about.

Oscar had enacted a salient dynamic—a dynamic that was hidden from his awareness because it was too threatening to be known. Yet this enactment was ripe with wonderful therapeutic possibilities. With Oscar unwilling to discuss this with his individual analyst, I told him that I would alert his analyst that something crucial was happening with Oscar in the group making it vital for us to talk. Oscar said, “Go ahead. My analyst will never believe this group bullshit anyway!” However, since Oscar was neither suicidal nor homicidal, his analyst refused to talk with me. Not surprisingly Oscar dropped out of the group within a short time. I believe that had his individual analyst been willing to talk with me, we would have had a good opportunity to cooperatively work with Oscar in depth on this crucial dynamic.

Sheila, a psychiatric resident in individual analysis, wanted group treatment because she was starting to recognize that she was rejecting decent eligible men as lovers and potential mates. Within a couple of months the group and I realized that Sheila was looking down upon the group members, especially the men, from an “I-am-superior-to-you” position. Believing this was salient to her reason for group treatment and being concerned that she might flee from this group of “inferiors,” I told Sheila that with her permission, I was going to talk to her individual analyst. After her analyst did not return several of my calls, I informed Sheila, and she responded that her analyst must have had a good reason, but she refused to elaborate. Shortly thereafter Sheila dropped out of the group.

What lessons did I learn from the two frustrating experiences cited above? Over the last decades I have made it my practice not to accept any referral for group or individual therapy when there is another therapist treating the same patient, unless there is agreement from the other therapist that we can collaborate if and when needed. In my experience our collaborative contacts are usually few and far between, but occasionally crucial. It is the trust between the two professionals that is vital. I have found almost all patients agreeable to therapist collaboration, and in fact are often pleased with this arrangement. Many patients experience this as genuine interest in them. In the rare case when the patient is reluctant for me to speak with their other therapist, I try to understand what this means for the patient. Typically our work on understanding the patient’s reluctance has led to a solution that benefits the therapy and the patient. In one situation with a suspicious patient who protested, I told him I would be willing to talk with his therapist on the phone while the patent was present—thus allowing him to hear every word and tone that I expressed. Hearing this willingness on my part, the patient said that he did not need to be present, but he wanted me to tell him what I said and what was said to me, which I was quite willing to do. In another unusual situation where the other therapist said communication between us would damage therapy, the patient insisted that we two therapists cooperate. She said that she would never go to a second physician if he would not collaborate with her present doctor.

Becoming Wiser

What does this mean to me? “I believe that mistakes and solutions are unique to each practitioner and interact uniquely with each particular patient.”

Over the years I have come to know myself better both as a human being and as a therapist, and what works better for my patients with our intersubjective uniqueness. With experience, analysts and therapists are ideally true to our own uniqueness and our particular interersubjective fit with individuals, couples or groups that we are trying to help. This to me is a vital component of clinical wisdom. I know of a few analysts of varying theoretical perspectives who adhere so closely to their cherished theoretical and technical ideas that they miss what I would consider crucial aspects of their relationships with their patients. These analysts may need such adherence to theory and practice for them to feel coherent, secure and competent. Another type of wisdom would be for those therapists and analysts to understand how this view affects their practice and work.

Dogen and Michelangelo

Dogen, considered one of the greatest Buddhist teachers, stated in the thirteenth century, “My life has been a continuous series of mistakes.” After decades of experience, I continue to make mistakes and try to learn from them. As Michelangelo said at the age 87, “I am still learning.” I certainly am too.

Notes

1 A briefer version of this paper was originally presented by Dr. Rabin at the Annual Colloquium of the Group Department of the Postgraduate Center for Mental Health, New York City on December 7, 2006.

Copyright © 2007 Psychotherapy.net. All rights reserved.

How To Be A Grown-up Even Around Your Own Parents

"You know what my scenario was for this whole thing? I was gonna move away. I was gonna get rich and move into a luxurious mansion. My parents were gonna come visit me—once—and say 'Oh, what a nice mansion. We love you, Dave.' And I was gonna say 'I love you too, Mom and Dad.' And then they were gonna go away and die. Does this make me an asshole?"
— Tom Hanks in Nothing In Common (1986)

"Hello, Arthur. This is your mother. Do you remember me?… Someday Arthur, you'll get married and you'll have children of your own and honey, when you do, I only pray that they'll make you suffer the way you're making me. That's a Mother's Prayer."
Mother and Son, Mike Nichols and Elaine May

The Terrifying Power of Parents

We never really are the adults we pretend to be. We wear the mask and perhaps the clothes and posture of grown-ups, but inside our skin we are never as wise or as sure or as strong as we want to convince ourselves and others we are. We may fool all the rest of the people all of the time, but we never fool our parents.

They can see behind the mask of adulthood. To our parents, we seem always to be "works in progress." A parent's work is never done—we are never finished and ready to face life on our own. I remember going to see our oldest daughter off on the train to college. As the train pulled out of the station, one of the other mothers took off running behind it, trying to catch the train and stop it. She had suddenly remembered a piece of advice she hadn't given her daughter. A mother's failure to understand the new world in which her child lives does not reduce one iota her responsibility to give advice about how to deal with it.

“People don't become grown-ups until they realize that their parents, however wonderful, were badly misinformed and sometimes stark, raving mad.” Each generation's job is to question the things the parents accept on faith, to explore the possibilities, and adapt the last generation's system of values for a new age.

The world is changing more rapidly each generation; the enormousness of the change is painful for those on either side of the generational divide. Fathers who won World War II single-handedly and have strutted around as Head of the Household ever since may never understand sons who want to be househusbands. Mothers who have sucked it in and pretended to be mentally deficient and emotionally unstable in order not to threaten their patriarchal husbands may have enormous resentment of their daughters who get to be full-scale human beings.

Parents may feel betrayed when their children adopt different styles and habits, and matters of style may turn into matters of morality, health or safety. To the parents, various things the children do may mean the death of the longed-for and as-yet-unborn grandchildren, while to the child, homosexuality may be a lifestyle choice, suicide may be a political statement, and joining the foreign legion may be an interesting career move. The child who makes such choices may not understand why the parents keep mourning the grandchildren that will not be instead of being as thrilled as the children are over the homosexual partner, the political placard or the artistic pictures of sand dunes they are getting instead.

Techniques for Regressing Grown Children into Blathering Childishness

Parents who would like to strip away their child's mask of adulthood and expose him or her as a still imperfect child, still in need of parents in attendance, have a variety of time-honored techniques at their disposal, all of which are simply subtle ways of doing their jobs as not-quite-ex-parents, by doing the job in a way that keeps both generations firmly in place. Parents can simply remind you that you are not quite who you pretend to be. They can bring up stories from your childhood at the most amazingly deflating moments, like telling stories about your toilet training at your wedding reception or telling your new boss how your kindergarten teacher never thought you had enough sense to get out of junior high. My father insists the most awful moment of his life came when he was making his first high school touchdown and heard the voice of his mother above the roar of the crowd calling "My Sonny Boy," a name he never lived down.

Parents can offer a sanctuary, not just as a pit stop along the road of life, but a permanent alternative to adulthood. They can give you or offer to leave you more money than you can make, so you never have to plan an adult life, and cannot truly respect the adult life you have been able to achieve. They can devote their lives to making it possible for you to never grow up. Your parents can provide you with a lifetime occupation, perhaps taking care of them—like the seeing-eye children of central Africa who spend their lives from the age of two or three running interference for their sightless parents—or try to protect you from the imperfection of grown-up relationships.

A young woman in my practice caught her husband in a brief affair, saw a couples therapist, fought it out with the contrite young husband, and reconciled. She then told her parents what had happened, whereupon her three-times-divorced father gave her the money for the best divorce attorneys and the two-times-divorced mother offered the other half of her fancy duplex. They insisted that she needed more time with her parents before she chose her next husband. They hinted that taking her in and raising her and her brood of children might bring them back together again.

The Gift of Guilt

At any time, your parents can call in their investment in you and demand repayment for giving you life. The classic approach to this is guilt, as Erma Bombeck put it: "Guilt, the gift that keeps on giving." King Lear was our expert at this, bewailing "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child." His kids fixed him.

“Parents vary in their sense of what would be suitable repayment for creating, sustaining and tolerating you all those years, and what circumstances would be drastic enough for the parents to present the voucher.” Obviously there is no repayment that would be sufficient. The guilt is there, inescapable and even irreducible, but the effort to call in the debt of life is too outrageous to be treated as anything other than a joke. My mother used to tell me, as often as needed, how she had to lay in bed flat on her back for nine months in order to give birth to me. If I displeased her, she'd remind me that all she had had to do was stand up and I would be a messy spot on the floor, so I should be eternally grateful that she didn't do that. I'd thank her, but assure her it would be okay for her to stand up now.

Children are a Family Affair

Your parents can claim your children, and tell you how to raise them. This can be useful. Every child needs more than two parents, so a full set of grandparents can come in handy. You don't have to take the advice, of course, but finding out how your parents or your partner's parents thought out the issues of child raising can give wonderful insights into both them and you, how they came to do what they did and how you came to be who you are. Of course it can rattle you. I know I'm more comfortable getting advice when I know what I'm doing than I am when I am trying to fake competence, and we are all amateurs at child raising.

Parents can deflate you just by appearing, either in person or in your mirror, as an older version of yourself, reminding you what is in store for you. They can criticize you so sensitively and astutely that they remind you that you aren't perfect yet. Even as the world applauds, your parents can take your victory away by reminding you that you might have done a better job in some way. Bring home a report card four A's and one B to hear, "That's nice, but what did you do wrong in calculus?" When I was about 30, I called my mother to tell her I had been written up in TIME magazine. She said, "Nobody in Autauga County, Alabama reads TIME any more. Why didn't you get written up in U.S. News and World Report?" That meant, "Don't get too big for your britches around me, Sonny Boy. I knew you when."

After a few minutes of sympathetic reflection, I realized that it also meant, "I'm so afraid you'll be so successful and so acclaimed by the world that you won't need us anymore, that you'll feel too good for us, that you'll be ashamed of us. Please love me, even in your moments of glory." I could have wondered why she didn't put it that way, but I'm actually just grateful that she didn't stand up all those years ago.

Parents can write the family history, putting you wherever they choose, preferring perhaps to keep you in the family mythology as a child. My mother, for example, was clearly ambivalent about my successes. quote:When I came to give a widely publicized talk to dedicate Alabama's first mental health center, I was about forty, and the picture of me she sent to the newspapers was from high school. I was a middle-aged man, but still Little Frank, my mother's boy wonder.

How Awkward Adolescence Becomes a Permanent State of Immaturity

Children give parents this deflating power to take the wind out of our sails when we are in adolescence, when we are so seriously self-conscious we become male and female impersonators, trying to convince somebody out there, mostly ourselves, that we are no longer children. We have enough trouble carrying it off when we are doing it in front of a mirror, but it becomes impossible to look like an adult when our parents are telling us what to do. Our parents know most clearly just how immature we are. One way adolescents try to pose as grown-ups is to make a show of not needing parents—at just the point of greatest confusion and disorientation of our lives, right when we need them most.

Once the older generation has raised us to about the level of adolescence, we are so full of hormones, piss and vinegar, we don't like to think we need the wisdom of the ages. It is true that the world is changing so fast that each generation's wisdom has expired by the time it can be put to use. Our parents' style and values, their ideas about how the world works, are likely to seem old-fashioned just on principle, but the real issue is that as adolescents we are too scared to tolerate doubt. Our parents might have money or things to leave us when they die, but this does not make us value them; it makes us impatient with them for continuing to live. If we can't find a use for them and they don't have anything for us, we might merely want to find an escape from them. We might even come to fear them, as if their active involvement in our life were proof of our characterological weakness—and maybe even dangerous to our mental health.

One solution for adolescents is to hide from parents, even if we have to run away from home, in whole or in part. “It is hard to look like a grown-up, much less feel like a grown-up, when you are busy running away from home.” Yet we have a society in which adolescence is, for some insane reason, seen as the most desirable time in life. We have a world full of people who get into the middle of the stream of life, and paddle like hell trying to stay in the same spot as the life cycle and the world flow by, equidistant from childhood and adulthood, and terrified of both.

The Magic of Parenthood

Some people stay pampered children forever, but child raising—hands-on, fully-invested child raising—is the main event in life, the experience that takes you out of the child generation, where you are only able to take, and puts you squarely in the parent generation, where you are able to give as well, and thus become able to take deservedly and unashamedly, without the nagging guilt children of all ages feel over taking more than they are giving back.

The end product of child raising is not only the child but the parents, who get to go through each stage of human development from the other side, and get to relive the experiences that shaped them and get to rethink everything their parents taught them. They get, in effect, to re-raise themselves, and become their own person.

Sure there are ways other than child raising to become a grown-up, though none so natural and total. One way to replace the experience of parenting is by nurturing strangers, as childless Mother Teresa or George Washington did, but being Mother of the Slums or Father of His Country can be a big job. For those who can't arrange parenthood, active aunting and uncling seem the next best choices. The usual things recommended for making a man out of a boy (and perhaps for making a woman out of a girl)—war, football, fighting, and prison—just create a fiercer boy. Learning to love a child can make a real man out of any boy, a real woman out of any girl, but some people might prefer to avoid something that engulfing and find a less drastic way of managing their parents and getting treated as adults.

The Solution: Acting Like a Grown-up

If you would move into the adult position with your parents, you can do several things. Your parents can't do these things for you. They can not grant you your adulthood; you must claim it for yourself.

  1. Take responsibility for your own life, not necessarily doing it perfectly but accepting the blame for the missteps: "I did this and I did it wrong. Now I want to learn from my mistakes. What do you think I could do differently next time?"
  2. Accept well-intentioned counsel from those who know and love you, even if neither their love for you nor their understanding of you is ideal. People, especially parents, love to give advice, and they will honor your maturity in asking for it.
  3. Your parents can't fix your problems or turn you into a kid again. They know by now (I hope) that they have no magical powers, but it is up to you to make yourself aware of that. They cannot turn you into a child; that is something you are doing to yourself when you collapse, run, or hide under the spell of your childlike awe at their presumed power. You must move in close, and unmask them as Toto did the Wizard of Oz, who turned out to be a silly old man hiding behind a lot of sound and lights. As he said when told he was a bad man: "No. I am a very good man, just a very bad wizard." Parents and wizards are all faking it.
  4. “Forgive your parents for all the ways in which they didn't raise you just right, whether their errors were in loving too much or too little.” All parents, as they perform their required functions as parents of adults, do the deflating things that make you feel like a child. If you have children, you'll do those things too and eventually laugh about them.

Parents sometimes do horrendous things to their children—beating them, raping them, selling them into slavery, even trying to kill them. Still more parents abandon their children, break up their children's family to run off with someone who did not have the best interests of the children at heart, and leave the children with someone they could not tolerate living with themselves. Those things must also be faced, and when they are finally understood, they must be forgiven. Otherwise the child may never feel secure with the imperfect love and imperfect investment the parents made in him or her, or with the child's own imperfect capacity for reciprocating all that love. “An angry, unforgiving child, going through life feeling like a victim of imperfect parenting, has no way of moving into the adult position in relationships.” Unrelenting anger at parents is a developmental dead end.

It is interesting how much more people blame parents for overdoing their jobs than for underfunctioning as parents. People seem tolerant and forgiving of fathers who love too little, while they spend a lifetime fearing mothers who love too much.

I got macroparenting, especially from Mother, which was at times oppressive and even frightening, but generally served me well. A patient of mine was microparented. Maisie's father had disappeared when she was born and had never been heard from again. Her tight-lipped mother raised her all alone. When she was 18, and had finished high school she chose not to go to college but to quietly work and make the money to go find her father. She hired a private detective, who eventually found her father working at an optical shop. She introduced herself and took him down the street for a cup of coffee. He was rather silent, but he did explain that he had feared he would not be a good enough father for her, so he ran away, and he had been ashamed of that ever since. He told her he had little he could offer her, but he gave her a package of eyeglass wipes and advised her to keep her eyeglasses clean. That little box of wipers was the only thing Maisie had ever gotten from her father—except for the explanation that he had run away because he felt she deserved more than he had to give. She never saw her father again but that explanation of why he had made the disastrous escape from her life gave her the goal of hanging in there and raising her own children. She realized that she didn't have to be wonderful to raise children, but she did have to be there. Maisie was forever grateful to her father for that insight, and she always kept her eyeglasses clean. We don't know what the meeting between father and daughter did for her father. He ran away again after that.

“The hardest part of becoming an adult with your parents may be this: getting close enough to truly understand them and why they did what they did.” You can't expect to satisfy your parents and you can't expect to fix them, but you must understand their life and yours from THEIR perspective before you can truly forgive them. No matter how awful, incestuous or homicidal your parents, they must be faced and understood, not for their sake but for yours. As long as you fear your parent is out to do you in, you can never feel safe in the world.

It may take a lifetime. Some of it will happen automatically as you raise your own or are involved with other people's children, but some of it can only happen as you examine your parents, living or dead, present or absent.

Dismantling the Family Hierarchy and Becoming Peers

For a grown child to expect respect from parents, he or she must accept responsibility for his or her own life and act like a grown-up. If the grown children are still trying to blame their lives on their parents, no respect can be expected.

In considering the ledger equal, it must be understood that the greatest gift you have given your parents is the opportunity to raise you. The things a child gets from parents can't compare to the things a parent gets from raising a child. Only by facing the experience can you understand the degree to which children give meaning to the lives of parents.

To make the member of the child generation feel quite sure that the debts are paid, it is wonderful when the children get to take care of the parents as they grow old or sick, and die. There is nothing quite so liberating from parental guilt and empowering to your adultness as nursing your parents through to the end. It can make you feel wonderful when your parent needs you more than you need him or her. But if you are still feeling guilty, as if you have not paid enough, achieved enough, reinvested enough, or suffered enough for the parent, then you can come to feel like a slave. You must decide when you have bought your freedom, and then you must give a bit more just to be sure. When you have paid back your parents for your life, and paid more than you owe, then you are indeed your own person.

Tricks for Taming Used Parents: Getting Them to See You as an Adult and Treat You with Respect

Meanwhile, there are techniques for achieving hierarchical equality with your parents. Here are some tricks that my children have taught me, tricks that I didn't learn when I was coming into adulthood because I wasn't mature enough to face my parents head on. My kids are an improvement, especially in the ways in which they deal with their parents. These techniques are guaranteed to work better than whining childishly or storming adolescently at your parents complaining they don't treat you as an adult.

  1. Tell them about you. Tell them what you like and what you don't like. You be the expert on you.
  2. Explore them, not you. When your parents try to tell you more about you and your shortcomings than you really want to hear, ask them about themselves at your age.
  3. Thank them for any criticism, and ask them what their experiences were that led them to their opinions.
  4. Ask for their advice before they have a chance to give it. If they know you are taking their advice seriously, they may give more sympathetic advice.
  5. Explain how much you value their opinion, and be especially careful to add that it is one of those you will particularly value as you make your own decision.
  6. Don't hide anything from them. Secrets and lies will make you ashamed of yourself, and will make them think you are hiding things from them, like a child.
  7. Invite them to do a lot of things with you, whether they like to do such things or not. And accept their invitations in return. Include them in your social life.
  8. Ask them to tell you family stories. When they tell family stories about you, give them the necessary information to change your position in the family myths.
  9. Tell them whether you need cheerleading or criticism at the moment. Remember, they want above all to feel needed and to be a good parent. Structure them in doing so.
  10. Find things they can do for you now and ask them to do such things. Think of expertise you need, information you need, and give them ample opportunity to feel useful.
  11. Find things to thank them for, especially memories from the past. Thank them randomly.
  12. Tell them what a terrible child you must have been, and how bad you feel for having been such a bother to them.
  13. Reveal all the things you kept secret from them at the time. Blow their minds. Actually, it will probably surprise them that you weren't worse.
  14. Call them more often than they need for you to. Try to call during their favorite TV show, so they will be in a hurry to get you off the phone.
  15. Don't criticize them to others. Get into the habit of praising them to your friends. That won't change them, but it will free you from your adolescent pout with them.
  16. Name your children after them.
  17. Don't name your pets after them.
  18. Take them to movies about parents and children. Mommie Dearest or The Great Santini are good choices. Then talk about it, taking the parent's side. Since they've been children longer than they've been parents, they might just counter by seeing the conflict from the child's perspective.
  19. Give your parent a copy of this article.
  20. Take your parents with you to your therapist and tell the therapist what wonderful parents they have been. If your parent doesn't respond by telling your therapist how wonderful you are, give him or her another copy of this article, and underline the parts that seem relevant. 

Imperfect Parents

One of the most highly valued functions of used parents these days is to be the villains of their children's lives, the people the child blames for any shortcomings or disappointments. This approach toward escaping guilt is an effort to protect the self-proclaimed victim from having to take responsibility for his or her own life. But if your identity comes from your parent's failings, then you remain forever a member of the child generation, stuck and unable to move on to adulthood in which you identify yourself in terms of what you do rather than what has been done to you.

I know your parents, like most parents including my own, including me, made a lot of mistakes. That was then; this is now. “A lot of parents came into adulthood as they raised you, and are better people now than they were then.” There are great advantages to seeing yourself as an accident created by amateur parents as they practiced. You then have been left in an imperfect state and the rest is up to you. Only the most pitifully inept child requires perfection from parents. It might help for the parents to apologize a few times, but the child who would become an adult must finally get off the parents' back and get on with the job at hand.

Some parents were awful back then and are awful still. They got stuck in childhood and adolescence, and the process of raising you did not turn them into grownups. Parents who were clearly imperfect can be helpful to you. As you were trying to grow up despite their fumbling efforts, you had to develop skills and tolerances other kids missed out on. Some of the strongest people I know grew up taking care of inept, invalid, or psychotic parents—but they knew the parents were not normal, healthy and whole. Children of imperfect parents might be grateful to their imperfect parents for the opportunities to develop unexpected strengths. My sister and I are firmly convinced that our mother's alcoholism made us stronger people and better caretakers. Such a tragic-comic existence certainly did wonders for our sense of humor.

The Problem with Some Family Therapists

I end up doubting those mental health theories that find closeness and interdependency between the generations unhealthy. I'm not convinced that people are better off if they differentiate a lot as Murray Bowen would have us do, break free from all their warm, cozy enmeshment as Sal Minuchin advised, and leave home the way Jay Haley encouraged us to do. I like being as close to my children as I am, talking over cases and writing papers with my psychologist daughters and working out with my triathlete son. Our son is also our accountant and Betsy's primary source of business advice. My 90-year-old psychiatrist father-in-law, who has been a source of much of my clinical wisdom, is now living with us and letting us a do a few things for him, to pay him back for all he has done for us.

Whose life is it anyway? As we raise our children, as we invest our hopes, our energies, our futures and our very beings into them, we are hoping for something back, something that we will get from our children, both now and in the future, that will make up for whatever the deficiencies in our own parenting. Each life carries within it all the generations that came before and all the generations to follow. In whatever we do, we must be aware of both. I have lived through adolescence, in which I felt only connected to my generation, and oppressed by anyone who would require my allegiance to anything outside myself. “I have lived through the adolescent sense that the history of my family and of the human race begins and ends with me, and now that I see myself connected on both ends, I no longer feel lost and alone.”

Therapists Who Blame Your Parents

There are therapists who have had wonderful training wasted on them but who will never be therapeutic because they are still members of the child generation and have not moved up to the parent perspective. They might do well to rethink their career choices until they have worked out their business with their own parents. Child-generation therapists might think that guilt is a killer, and any relationship, any reality, any responsibility must be shucked to protect grown children from guilt. They may encourage you to blame your life on the mistakes of your parents rather than encourage you to find out what the experience was like for your parents, how they learned to be the people and the parents they were, and how they would do it over again now. That exploration brings parents and children together, and can set them both free. An adult-generation therapist (of any age) will see both you and your parents through the eyes of an adult rather than just through the eyes of a child, and will know that you must forgive your parents if you are ever to be free of your sense of childlike helplessness.

The point of exploring your parents' deficiencies is for you to correct the misinformation you've received as a result, not to blame your life on them and then avoid them. You can't escape them anyway. Your biological parents are present in every chromosome in your body. The parents who raised you are present in every word you speak, every action you take. Your job is not to satisfy your parents, nor to fix them, but to understand them. Only through understanding them can you finally understand yourself.

This article was excerpted, in part, from Grow Up! by Frank Pittman. 

Breaking Barriers to Doing Corporate Consulting

Today's most enterprising therapists are realizing that the most promising opportunities for new business lie outside of the healthcare system. There, the people skills they honed with clinical populations can find countless new applications. Nonetheless, many established therapists, as well as current graduate students, go on seeking new clientele inside the healthcare marketplace. Developing new markets is the major challenge of therapists wanting to start up or remain in independent practice.

Lucrative business opportunities readily open when different segments of the marketplace are targeted. Corporate consulting represents one such major opportunity. Much contemporary corporate activity centers on technology issues, information processing, and creating business ecosystems. How well the necessary infrastructure works for optimizing these activities is rooted in the company's people. Daniel Goleman recognizes this in his work, Working With Emotional Intelligence, when he estimates that 90 percent of success in business leadership is directly attributable to "soft skills." People problems inevitably result when a company focuses too exclusively on technology skills.

Solving People Problems

Psychologists and counselors are eminently qualified to improve people skills in the work place. Therapists already have valuable knowledge and skills that can, with adaptation, be used to raise the emotional intelligence of company leaders, as well as to solve other business problems related to people. In order to successfully do so, there first are several major barriers through which clinicians must successfully break.

The first is re-conceptualizing the framework out of which they design and deliver consultative services. With clinical services, the major focus is upon understanding and relieving an individual client's personal suffering. To mistakenly view a company's people problems through this same framework of dysfunction and psychopathology will result in assigning medical diagnoses and starting psychotherapeutic interventions designed to remediate the individual pathology. In corporate work, only occasionally will the problem reside in a single person. Most frequently, the consultant seeks an understanding of how the organizational context motivates the employee's behavior and, conversely, of how the individual affects the company. “The business psychologist's emphasis is upon optimizing organizational results by altering people's behavior inside the organizational system.”

The conceptual framework includes any body of psychological knowledge that is relevant to the business problem at hand. The theory base for business psychology is the "the application of clinical psychology's traditional knowledge and skill base, modified and augmented by related knowledge bases (such as organizational development theory), to people working in business settings for the ultimate purpose of optimizing business performance. . . . The overall aim of business psychology is enhancing people processes and work performance—of individuals, teams, managers at all levels, and, ultimately, the entire business." (Perrott, Reinventing Your Practice as a Business Psychologist, p. 6,7)

“Therapists-turned-consultants use their knowledge of people (not psychopathology) to enhance corporate performance.” They use their own people skills to form and maintain multiple simultaneous relationships inside the company in order to bring about the desired organizational outcomes. Doing so is a departure from the typical therapist's clinical posture of detachment and reactivity, while focused on an individual person.

The second barrier is the sales barrier. If a consultant closes no sales, there are no opportunities to work. Opportunities to optimize company performance are created by sales of consultative services to companies. To create such opportunities, the sales barrier must be broken, and, to do this, the access issue must first be addressed: how to get into the company. Doors will be opened once a consultant has something of known value to contribute to the company. In order to design results-producing consultative services, therapists wanting to work in corporate settings must find ways for getting to know businesses from the inside, so as to learn about their common needs. This information provides the basis for designing value-adding consultative services. Regular reading of business-oriented publications such as the Wall Street Journal and Business Week teaches about the typical issues and problems businesses face and provides an ongoing resource for ideas about possible business solutions.

An excellent direct way to learn about corporate functioning is to take an administrative role in a corporate healthcare setting or, alternatively, accept a leadership work position in a non-healthcare corporate setting. A different means is vicarious learning through networking with people already employed in corporate settings. Joining service clubs, such as Rotary or Kiwanis, regularly brings together "meet and eat" gatherings of company people who are quite willing to discuss business issues openly. Yet another avenue for getting together with business people is active participation in Chamber of Commerce activities.

Once business issues become known and consultative solutions have been designed, active marketing approaches must then successfully create the means for actually setting foot inside businesses, so that sales relationships can be developed. Essentially, corporate consulting is a relationship business. Putting together effective promotional campaigns that establish attractive market positions is a fundamental step toward breaking the sales barrier. Regularly communicating with the business community about effective business psychology services that have been designed to fulfill corporate needs will establish the basis for eventually breaking the sales barrier.

quote:Closely related to selling is breaking the third barrier: that of relevance. Without creating a consultative service that has direct and positive impact on business performance, sales efforts for that product will go nowhere. The basis for repeatedly breaking the sales barrier is convincing companies how they will be better off after receiving business psychology services than they were before. “Aspiring consultants must use their organizational insights creatively to design an array of consultative services, each of which results in attention-catching business results.” A useful first exercise for a new consultant is to decide upon one or more very focused "starter services." Each is a narrowly targeted consultative service set up to fulfill some very specific business needs. The overall aim is to deliver the service quickly, producing business results that have large impact in small areas.

Case Example

One company has narrowed its field of choices for a newly created Team Leader position to two internal candidates. One is a young man of color in his late twenties who has been with the company four years. He seems bright, is articulate and well-liked by colleagues, and seems eager to learn. The other candidate is a woman in her early thirties who has been with the company seven years. She is vocal, an able problem-solver in her present assignment, ambitious, and widely admired. The company decision-makers are evenly split on whom to choose. Hearing about this dilemma, the enterprising consultant proposes using business psychology skills to assist the company solve this personnel problem. Through interview and administration of a brief battery of psychological tests, a profile of each candidate's strengths and limitations can be created and reported to the decision-makers. This information will provide a relevant, rational basis for the company decision-makers to use in deciding whom they will promote. To propose the sale, the consultant quickly arranges a meeting with several of the key decision-makers, in order to make a case for doing the assessment. In the sales presentation, the consultant emphasizes the benefits to the company of purchasing the service:

A.  the objectivity of the methods used;
B.  the advantages of having profiles of each candidate for comparison, rather than using subjective hunches; and
C.  the savings of company money and time resulting from making a data-driven choice.

After breaking the sales barrier, the business psychologist quickly begins actual delivery of the assessment. Arranging a meeting with the decision-makers allows inquiry into the specific job duties and responsibilities of the new Team Leader position, the characteristics of the work team, and, most importantly, the overall outcomes expected during the next year. In the hypothetical example here, the company is projecting bold team performance expectations and also expects that there will be considerable conflict of ideas within the team about how to achieve these goals. This high-powered work team is expected to become operational quickly. There will be little tolerance for inefficiencies or outcomes short of expectations. Excellent communication and outstanding problem-solving will be required, as well as the ability to lead a team swiftly through complex and ambiguous technical issues that could very suddenly and unexpectedly arise. After learning this, the consultant extracts the critical success factors for the new job and designs an assessment strategy to evaluate those areas. The consultant then conducts the managerial assessment with each candidate using structured interview techniques and psychometric instruments chosen to comply with ADA requirements.

One candidate's profile revealed a very restricted vocabulary, a repeated tendency to handle interpersonal conflicts through using minimizing and avoidance tactics, very high personal stress levels, and past leadership preferences for reliance on setting a strong personal example and use of verbal intimidation approaches during times of uncertainty. Which of the two candidates mentioned above would you guess had this profile?

The consultant reviews the two resulting candidate profiles with the company decision-makers, giving them the desired rational basis for deciding which candidate to select. Once they had the candidate profile outlined in the paragraph above, the decision-makers were readily able to decide that this was not the person they would promote into the new Team Leader position. “The company benefited here by not making a costly error in selecting a candidate who very likely would have fallen short of their expectations within the first year.” The overall savings to the company based on lost team productivity, lowered team morale, possible loss of valued team employees, and use of additional management time to rectify the error later more than offsets the cost of the assessment. Only after the sales barrier was broken could there be an opportunity to successfully tackle the relevance barrier, and then deliver the services.

Epilogue

Therapists have developed considerable people expertise that has direct relevance in corporate settings. But business psychology does not consist of simply transplanting the delivery of psychotherapy inside corporate walls. In order for clinicians to produce valuable business results, their clinical knowledge and skills must first be adapted and channeled for focused use there. It must also be supplemented with additional knowledge about organizational functioning and corporate issues that go outside most therapists' traditional paradigms. As therapists becomes more proficient at breaking the three barriers outlined above, enterprising new markets for psychologically grounded consultative services will open up inside corporate settings. Designing, selling, and delivering business psychology services is the basis for establishing longer-term relationships with corporations that can readily result in repeated sales over many years.

References

Goleman, Daniel. (1998) Working With Emotional Intelligence. New York: Bantam Books.

Perrott, Louis A. (1999) Reinventing Your Practice as a Business Psychologist. San Francisco: Jossey-Bass Inc

Hollywood on the Couch

My client (call him Larry) sits across from me, holding his stomach gingerly, rocking back and forth in his seat. His face, once seen smiling proudly next to a feature article about him in the Los Angeles Times, is now set in a rictus of pain.

"Jesus, my stomach's in knots," Larry groans. "I'm six weeks late with the script. Six weeks! The studio's climbing all over me, my agent's screaming on the phone." He looks morosely at me. "I swear, the problem is that goddamned Oscar. If only I hadn't won it . . . "

I nod. This is the familiar Oscar-as-jinx lament, one I've heard often from clients since I began my practice in Hollywood. After winning the Academy Award for Best Screenplay some years back, Larry's writing career careened from one disaster to another. His Oscar win resulted in an avalanche of job offers, which pushed his script fee into the stratosphere. The result? Every movie studio he worked for resented paying his huge fees, while every producer complained that his work for them certainly didn't seem to be "Oscar-caliber." The Hollywood buzz was that maybe Larry was a one-shot wonder.

Unfortunately, by now he'd traded up to a multimillion dollar house in the Pacific Palisades, had both kids in expensive private schools, and was the principal investor in his wife's Pilates studio. His nut, as they say, is killing him.

"Know what I did yesterday?" he asks, managing a tight smile. "I put the Oscar out in the garage. I swear, that thing is cursed. Evil. Like the devil doll in that old Twilight Zone episode."

Larry says he knows for a fact that the Oscar was cursed, because it had already jinxed him once before. He'd hidden it away in a linen closet while he was rewriting a thriller for Sony, but his wife had taken it out and put it on the mantle when his in-laws came to visit. Soon thereafter Sony cancelled the whole project."I think that's the reason the picture never got made," Larry says, giving me a knowing look.

I smile. "In my business, Larry, we call that 'magical thinking.'"

"Yeah, well in my business we call that going four years without having a movie produced. If I don't totally nail this script for Warners, my agent says I'm not gonna get my asking price for the next one. If there is a next one."

He stops rocking long enough to take a swig from his Evian water. "My big mistake was winning the damn thing in the first place. If only I'd just been nominated . . . when you're nominated, you pick up a nice buzz, maybe get a better agent. You're hot, but not too hot. You're on the radar screen, but you're not blinking. Not drawing all the heavy fire, know what I mean?"

In fact, I knew exactly what he meant. I'd heard other award-winning clients—actors, writers, directors—say pretty much the same thing. “Because in Hollywood, where everyone's goal is to attract attention, there are some people for whom the worst thing that can happen is to attract attention.” And then there are all the other people, for whom the worst thing that can happen is not to attract any attention at all . . .

Hollywood from the Inside

Formerly a Hollywood screenwriter myself for many years, I'm now a Marriage and Family Therapist (MFT) in private practice in Los Angeles. My clients are primarily writers, actors, and directors in the entertainment industry. They range from the famous and successful to the unknown and struggling. And after 15 years of doing therapy in Hollywood, I can state one thing with complete confidence:

Doing therapy is the same everywhere. Except here, where it's different.

For example, my session with Larry illustrates one of the many paradoxes that creative people grapple with in the entertainment industry. Many of my most noted clients live for the big break, the surprise hit, the runaway success. But, when it happens, they often fear it's only a fluke—their talent fraudulent, their fabulous careers as fragile as the opulent houses precariously cantilevered over the earthquake-prone Hollywood Hills.

Of course, for my less-successful show business clients, Larry's "problem" is the kind of luxury they can only dream about. For these folks, it's a daily struggle just to maintain a career, much less an intact sense of self-worth, in the face of brutal competition, insatiable demands for the next new thing, and industry-wide contempt for the unyoung, unrich, and unbeautiful.

In such a roiling climate of soaring hopes, crashing defeats, and maddening near-misses, it's no wonder that my clients have an ambivalent, anxious love-hate relationship with the Hollywood Dream. They know the odds, but they're still driven to grasp for the shiny brass ring that's always, though sometimes just barely, out of reach. As one of my long-suffering writer clients remarked about Hollywood, "It's a place where anything can happen—and nothing ever does."

Doing therapy, of course, is doing therapy—whoever the client and whatever the locale. All human beings come with roughly the same emotional equipment and confront, with greater or lesser success, the same old dramas of love, fear, loss, anger, desire, ambition, and envy. And yet, the peculiar—not to say extreme—values and circumstances of Hollywood give these ordinary human dilemmas a unique twist that therapists are far less likely to see in, say, Toledo or Baltimore or Omaha. So “a lot of the therapy I do is to provide an opportunity for creative people to talk about their specific problems with someone who doesn't have an axe to grind and knows the intricacies of their business.”

For example, notwithstanding Larry's troubles, everyone in town hungers after awards. This is why, after practicing here for a while, you notice that there's an almost seasonal quality to the work. Just as accountants get swamped at tax time, I've noticed severe spikes in my clients' career anxieties during the annual frenzy of award nominations.

In recent years, awards have proliferated like viruses. Besides the old standards—the Oscars and Emmys—there are now the Golden Globes, the People's Choice, and the MTV Awards, as well as less-publicized awards (but crucial to the industry) bestowed by venerable union organizations like the Writers Guild, Directors Guild, and Producers Guild. Falling roughly within a four-month period, this annual harvest of award nominations—"the season of envy," one of my clients calls it—gives people in the business a wonderfully rich smorgasbord of opportunities for bitterness, resentment, despair, and self-loathing.

This year's Oscars were particularly galling for some of my clients, who've managed to battle their way into the Hollywood mass-entertainment production machine, but have never lost their yearning to be artists. With one exception (The Aviator), the Best Picture nominees for this year's Oscar awards were all independent films. Developed and produced outside the conventional studio process, these movies were more idiosyncratic and "character-driven" (read: "artistic") than typical, mass-market-oriented Hollywood fare. "See, those are the kinds of films I want to make," a director client bitterly complained. "But what does my agent set up for me? The next Scooby-Doo sequel!"

A successful actress in my practice fumed with envy about Hilary Swank's second Academy Award for Best Actress. "Excuse me, but she got both of her Oscars for playing women who get beaten to death! What's up with that? Is this some kinda trend? Maybe that's my problem . . . Everyone I've ever played is still alive at the end of the movie."

This is life in Hollywood for most ambitious people in the business: living in a state of extreme self-consciousness, feeling that your entire worth as a human being is being judged by people who are technically your peers, but much richer, more successful, and probably a lot cooler than you. Meanwhile, you secretly think you're as good or better than they are (when not worrying that you're really not), and desperately want them to like and accept you. You also suspect that they mostly don't know you exist.

Sound familiar? It should. Because, from my perspective, Hollywood is just like high school.

In high school, you try out for a spot on the basketball team or the cheerleading squad or the drama club's latest play, and, if you're like most of us, you don't get it. You spend hours honing your particular "look" in the mirror, working on cool repartee, practicing smoking a joint without choking, and flaunting the latest electronic gizmos money can buy. But the girl you want to hook up with still thinks you're a dork, and the guys you want to impress just look at you with bored, half-closed lizard eyes before ambling away.

So, what do you do for comfort? What everybody does: rationalize. You tell yourself that these people aren't worth the grief; that they're basically dumb jocks or silly little girls. You ostentatiously ignore them or loudly disdain them.

Likewise, my show business clients, feeling ignored or unappreciated by their peers, boycott watching the awards shows, cancel their subscriptions to the "trade papers" (Variety and The Hollywood Reporter) and, in sessions with me, indignantly list the many worthy, though obscure, films and TV programs that should have been nominated, if the awards weren't such monuments to fraud, irrelevance, and blatant commercialism.

For my clients working in television, I'd guess the ultimate pinnacle of Hollywood-as-high school happened the night a few years back when writer-producer David E. Kelley won an Emmy award for Best Comedy (Alley McBeal) and one for Best Drama (The Practice). Then he got to go home to celebrate with his wife, Michelle Pfieffer. “The fallout from that evening went on for weeks in my practice. How could any of my clients, no matter how successful, top that?” It's as though Kelley got to be both Class President and first-string quarterback, while making it every night with the Prom Queen.

Everyone remembers the rigid caste system of high school—the "royals" (the popular kids, good-looking girls, athletic stars, Big Men and Women on Campus) and the various lesser castes of brainiacs, greasers, and assorted wannabes.

Ditto Hollywood. For example, in the film business, there are those "above the line" (movie stars, producers, screenwriters, and directors) and those "below the line" (cinematographers, costume designers, makeup artists, etc.). While you might think such demarcations are only the concern of contract attorneys and accountants, the sociological ramifications of commingling these worlds can be huge.

Not too long ago, I had an initial session with a well-known movie actress, who burst into tears not 10 seconds after she sat down on my couch.

"I'm in love," she said with difficulty, "really in love for the first time in my life. We're engaged and everything."

"Congratulations," I said at a loss.

"But we can't get married!" She drew herself up. "I know I'm going to sound horrible, and like a total bitch, but I can't go through with it. I mean, everyone's telling me to call it off. My friends. My managers. And I love Gary, I really, really do . . . it's just . . . "

"What?"

"He's a set decorator, and, well, I just don't think I should marry below the line!"

She was entirely serious.

"And I'm not just thinking about myself," she went on. "You know what the tabloids are gonna do with this. Look at what they did to Julia Roberts when she married that cameraman. They made her life hell—and his, too. I can't put Gary through that." She looked down. "Or me, either."

"Have you discussed this with Gary? I can see how it would be difficult, but . . . "

"He brought it up to me!" she exclaimed, eyes shining. "He worries that he won't fit into my world. He even worries about what it might do to my career. He's very thoughtful like that. Why do you think I love him? He's so unlike all the other guys I've been with. He wasn't even married when we started dating."

She put her chin on her hands. "I'm not stupid. I know we don't exactly make sense. I mean, he drives around in a Range Rover. He goes fishing. But I also know it shouldn't matter.

"But it does?"

She took a breath, then slowly nodded. "Yes," she said a last. "I feel really shitty about it . . . but yes."

I saw that her pain was real, her conflict genuine.

But we both knew the reality of life in Hollywood—and in high school. Prom queens don't go steady with the A-V guys. Not without paying a price.

I never saw her again after that one session. Then, months later, I read somewhere that she and her fiancé Gary had broken up.

The Television Rat Race

Just as awards season is ending, something called "staffing season" begins. This is the three-month period when new and returning series are building their production staffs, negotiating with their returning stars, writers, and directors, and meeting with potential new employees. It's a harrowing ordeal for my clients, having their work evaluated by series producers and network executives, not knowing whether they'll have a chance at huge success or be thrown back into the oblivion of unemployment.

Again it's the unedifying spectacle of mature adults going through gruesome rituals that resemble nothing more than those that high-school seniors endure: taking SATs, writing endless college application essays, trying to impress college recruiters, wheedling recommendations from teachers, and waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting for their fate to be sealed . . . 

Nancy was in her thirties, a single mother of two whose last job as an executive story editor on a sitcom ended when the series was cancelled the year before. She'd been out of work since then, and dreaded the arrival of another staffing season.

"God, it's like a nightmare," Nancy said, pushing her hair back from her forehead. "I can't stand talking to my writer friends anymore. All we do is obsess about staffing season. 'Did you get a meeting?' 'Is your agent sending out your new spec script?' 'I heard they're looking for someone at Hope and Faith.'" She shook her head. "Talk about desperate housewives. . ."

Nancy recited her litany of complaints (I'd heard variations of it from all my writing clients): her agent wanted her to give in and write scripts for the kind of lowbrow sitcom she couldn't even stand to watch, much less write for. She was also furious because she'd been turned down as a script-writer for 8 Simple Rules, a show about a single mother. "They said I wouldn't be right for it," she said, her voice dripping sarcasm. "Of course not. I'm a single mom with kids, so how the hell could I write about a single mom with kids. Those pricks!"

I hesitated, then brought up a writing job on a little-known cable series—a show we'd been referring to for weeks as her "fallback" position.

"Christ, I don't even want to think about it," Nancy said. "Talk about the bottom of the barrel. If only my kids hadn't got kinda used to eating regularly."

She looked up, letting me see for only a moment the pain, yearning and desperation behind the sarcasm

"So what do you think?" she asked at last. "If I even get a meeting . . . and if they even make an offer . . . and if it doesn't completely suck . . . should I take it?"

She did, they did, it didn't—so she took it.

Quitting Time?

There's one issue that virtually all creative people in Hollywood wrestle with on an almost continual basis, on a scale unimaginable to clients in practically any other field of endeavor: namely, should they leave the business entirely?

In most professions, career success follows a more or less predictable trajectory. If you're a lawyer, banker, computer programmer, doctor, or the like, you spend a number of years learning your profession, then you generally ascend—if your job isn't outsourced or your CEO indicted for fraud—to a reasonable level of security, seniority, and maybe even pretty decent pay.

For the creative professional navigating a show-business career, there's no such path. Triumph and failure follow one another—in fact, feed one another—in a maddeningly erratic way. Hollywood is a notoriously fickle industry, where you can earn vast sums for a few years, then face a sudden and inexplicable loss of marketability, followed immediately by a severe cash drought. Not surprisingly, creative professionals spend an inordinate amount of time in therapy discussing whether to ditch the whole thing and start over.

Of course, many people in their forties and fifties go through midlife crises during which they wonder if they, too, shouldn't leave their boring law partnerships or real estate businesses and try their hand at running a B&B in Vermont. But, for most of these people, the crisis passes—they get therapy, they join a fitness club, they work on their marriages, they make modest changes in their careers that give them a larger degree of contentment and peace. The whole process is a one-time thing, with a more or less definable resolution at the end.

For Hollywood entertainment professionals, however, this "midlife" crisis afflicts them throughout their careers. Wondering whether to continue struggling against repeated rejections, chronic frustration, and financial hardship on the off chance of "making it"—or else, giving up and getting into something, anything more dependable—is the name of the game in this town.

At least weekly in my practice, a veteran show-business client—perhaps with a family, five projects in development, and a vacation home in Bali—gives me a haggard look and admits, with undeniable sincerity, that the business is driving him crazy, that he "can't stand the bullshit anymore," and that he's wondering if this is really what he wants from life. "Is it always going to be this bad?" he asks wistfully. "I spend half the time hating my job and wondering what I really want to be when I grow up."

And yet, very few clients ever do leave the business, regardless of the perfectly sensible arguments against continuing to struggle in Hollywood. Take Phil, for example, one of my clients who declared to me in the most melodramatic, forceful—not to say weirdest—way possible that he'd had enough.

In his mid-forties, Phil was an established TV writer-producer in my practice who one day left five breathless messages within the space of an hour on my voicemail, while he was on vacation in Kauai.

I called him back at the number he'd left, a lone pay phone near a cluster of cottages at some small, exclusive resort. I could hear waves lapping the shore, but I could barely hear him. He seemed to be whispering.

"Can you speak up?" I said.

"I said, I'm not coming back."

"To therapy?" This surprised me; I'd thought we'd been making some progress.

"Therapy? No . . . I mean, I'm not coming back to L.A."

"What? And why are you whispering?"

"I gotta keep it down. My wife's in the cottage, but the walls here are made outta leaves or somethin'. She'll hear me."

"Oh." A therapeutic pause.

"Look, I don't want her to know. Not yet. In fact, I'm thinking of letting her and the kids go back to L.A. without me. Tell 'em I need a couple extra days on my own to relax, unwind . . . "

"Is this true?"

"Are you kiddin'? I'm exec producer on a lame-ass series in its second season, with a bad time slot, and a flaming psychotic in the lead. What do you think?"

"But that's why you're on vacation. Some much needed R&R. Remote cottage, right on the ocean, no phones or faxes. Sounded great when we talked about it in session."

"It is great. That's why I'm not coming back."

"For an extra couple days . . . ?"

"For the rest of my life, man. But I'm not stayin' here. Too civilized. You can still get here by boat, or helicopter."

"I'm not following you, Phil."

"Damn right. Nobody is. See, once I get Helen and the kids on that plane home, I'm leaving this place and heading for parts unknown. Some little island off New Guinea, or maybe the Hindu Kush. Didja know they got parts there that are still unexplored, that aren't on any map?"

"You're serious."

"Hell, yeah. Look, I'm overweight, overworked, and overstressed. Buried in debt. I got a wife who hates me, two kids who hate both of us, an agent, three attorneys, a business manager, a domestic staff that rivals Brideshead, four cars, and a black lab that sees a grooming stylist and a pet shrink. With the whole damn thing on my shoulders. That means putting in an 80-hour workweek, cranking out jokes and story beats, with the goddamn network breathing down my neck, all while negotiating office politics that would baffle Elizabeth I. Fuck it, I'm goin' over the wall."

"Okay, I get how stressed you feel, how trapped. It can be very demanding, and murder on your personal life. But, if you work at it, you can find a balance . . . "

He chuckled wearily. "Hell, I've been looking for that balance for 18 years. I'm starting to think it's like net profit points in your contract—some kind of urban myth."

I tried a different approach. "Okay, let's say you just drop out of sight. Live on some uncharted island somewhere. What'll you do all day?"

"I was thinking along the lines of drinking and chasing women. And sleeping. Yeah, I got about a dozen years' worth of sleep to catch up on."

"That could get old. What about your mind, your creativity?"

"What's it done for me lately?"

"Well, it takes imagination to plot an escape from your life. A certain aesthetic daring."

"Yeah, I'm like David Copperfield. One minute I'm here, the next I'm gone. The Man Who Dropped Out." He paused. "Hey . . . wait a minute." There was a long silence on the phone.

"Phil? Phil? What's happening?" I asked. I could almost hear his brain whirring.

"I was just thinking," he said, "with computers and the net and satellite tracking, how hard it would be for a guy to really disappear. But finally, after all these close calls, he pulls it off. He's out, he's free as a bird. But then, what if his wife had to find him—their daughter needs a kidney transplant or something . . . "

I noticed his voice rising with excitement.

"But . . . " I said.

"No, listen. What if the guy's ex-business partner is looking for him, too? Millions are at stake. They hire these mercenaries to find him. Every episode ends with a cliff-hanger. Will they get him, won't they? . . . Uh, look, can we talk about that other stuff when I get back?"

"If you want. But I thought . . . "

"Shit, this is a great idea for a series, 9:00 slot. I can work it off that development deal I got at Fox . . . Hey, I gotta hang up and make some notes. See ya next week, our regular time?"

"I'll be here."

Hangin' In

There's an old joke about a man working in the circus, whose job it was to follow behind the elephants, sweeping up their droppings. When asked why he doesn't find some other line of work, he replies, "What, and leave show business?"

What makes the joke funny, of course, is the truth behind it. Creative and talented people, once having tasted the wild nectar of Hollywood success, find it almost impossible to quit the field, even when the odds are stacked against them. And nothing stacks the odds higher than committing the one unpardonable sin in Hollywood—getting older. As veteran TV writer Larry Gelbart said in a recent interview, "The only way to beat ageism in Hollywood is to die young."

At 58, my client Walter has been directing episodic television for most of his adult life—except for the past five years, during which, despite Herculean efforts to get work, he's been unemployed. He also got divorced and lost his house, and had to move to a condo in Thousand Oaks.

At a recent session, Walter announced more bad news. "My agent finally dumped me," he said quietly, without rancor.

"I'm sorry, Walter. I know you've been his client a long time."

"Twenty-one years. Lasted longer than my marriage. And the sex was better . . . " He managed a rueful smile. "Hey, I can't blame him. He busted his ass for me. But let's face it, nobody wants to see a gray-haired old fart like me on the set. Everybody there looks like my grandchildren. Hell, they could be my grandchildren."

As is often the case with clients in his situation, we talked about options. Walter agreed that he could probably teach, but that even teaching jobs were getting scarce and the money wasn't very good. Not that he was poor—he had a generous pension and some decent stocks. But the money wasn't really what bothered him. Right now, at 58, he felt he was a better director than at any time in his life. He knew his craft, he understood actors, he could keep his head in a crisis. But it seemed clear that nobody wanted to see a face much over 40.

"I might as well pack it in," he said gloomily. "My life in this town is over."

"Your life isn't over, Walter." I said to him. "Neither is your career. Unless you're ready for it to be over."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you don't have to let other people decide what you can do. Or how to feel about what you can do."

"Shit, don't get all therapeutic on me now."

"I'm not. I'm being pragmatic. If you want to teach, go teach. But if you still love directing, go find something to direct. A play. A short film. You say you have a few bucks. Okay, then hire someone to write something. Or rent an Equity-waiver theater down on La Cienaga for a week and put something up on its feet."

"Forget it. I'm used to working for studios. Networks. Guys with parking spaces on the lot, who at least have to pay me for the privilege of pissing all over my work."

"And I know how much you'll miss that. But at least you'll be directing. If that's what you still want to do."

"Hell, it's what I am." He sat back, stroking the edge of his trim, salt-and-pepper beard. Then he laughed. "Hey," he said, "remember that joke about the guy at the circus, cleaning up after the elephants?"

"One of my favorites."

"You think I'm that guy?"

"Walter, I think we're all that guy. These are the lives we lead, the things we do. If it's who we really are, all we can do is keep doing them. “As a colleague of mine said once, about trying to achieve in any profession: Keep giving them you, until you is what they want.”"

He paused. "You know, Alvin Sergeant is in his seventies, and he wrote the two Spider-Man movies. Huge hits. For years, David Chase couldn't get arrested, and then he creates The Sopranos. Hell, John Huston directed his last picture in a wheelchair, sitting next to an oxygen tank."

"All true."

"I mean, maybe I'm just kiddin' myself, but . . . " He nodded toward the door. "There's gotta be at least one more elephant out there, right?"

I smiled. "I've never known a circus without one."

Psychotherapy in China: Western and Eastern Perspectives

From Leicester to Shanghai

I have been living and working as a psychologist in China for the past four years. During this time, I have been teaching psychology, counselling, and psychotherapy courses to Chinese university students. I am originally from Leicester, Britain, where I was trained as a psychologist.

In this paper, I give my perspective based on my own experiences teaching counselling, counselling patients, interviews, and conversations with friends and colleagues in China. I also learned a great deal from the numerous families that invited me to stay with them for a week at a time to observe family life, including those who are from wealthy homes, as well as peasants in the countryside who could ill afford to share their food with me but graciously did. My research with women has come from over 200 interviews with women in China who told me their stories of their lives and marriages. The majority of my clients for my private practice came from referrals from students, other professors, Chinese friends and by word of mouth. Some of my clients came from the Internet who read my profile and sent email requests for help.

Getting a feel for Chinese culture

When I first started seeing clients in China I had to rapidly adjust to a different way of thinking by the Chinese patient. Although the issues were similar to those presented in any typical Western setting, such as relationships, depression, anxiety, family disputes, and lack of self-esteem, the Chinese mindset is profoundly different from my own in regard to their cognition and their way of thinking.

For a Westerner, it takes time to understand the subtlety of the Chinese way of thinking out problems and solutions. It helps to get a feel for the society, the pressures, the traditional ideals, and the judgmental, conforming behaviour. And I am always open to learning something new. You have to take your Western training and try to match the social consciousness of those you are trying to assist. This is not an easy process and does take time. All of my friends here are Chinese and I spend a lot of my time listening to how they see things; it is the only way to understand. Most Chinese do embrace Western culture and see it as an important part of their future and improvements to society. Of course, many Western ideas are not suitable to this society, so we discuss these issues as well.

Cultural factors and psychotherapy in China

What is the culture of psychotherapy in China? What makes up the thinking and feeling processes in the typical Chinese client? Understanding these questions gives us a beginning of how to understand and make trusting alliances with the Chinese patient. Several factors play a large role in the Chinese culture and character that affect attitudes toward seeking help and dealing with emotional difficulties.

Other-centered culture: Many Chinese people see their own problems as coming last compared to the welfare of others. While this is adaptive and socially valuable for the culture at large, it also keeps people from seeking help for themselves and taking a constructive approach to emotional and life problems. The Chinese client often thinks they are troubling the counselor with trifles and are more concerned about the therapist’s welfare than their own well-being. Knowing and appreciating this feeling as normative can also help move the focus to the client in a respectful and therapeutic way.

Culture of therapy? In China, there is almost no culture of therapy that is comparable to the Western culture of therapy. Indeed, there is a great mistrust among Chinese people toward authorities in general, perhaps going back to the cultural revolution and the intimidations and damage done to openness and trust during this time. Most people do not discuss their emotional turmoil with anyone, as they will lose face. In China there is a high degree of anxiety about judgement, criticism and evaluation by the state and other people. This, as you can imagine, makes it very hard to separate social norms from inner feelings. And it adds an extra layer of caution and suspicion when the client comes to see the counsellor.

Face: A crucial thing for the Western therapist to understand is that the Chinese client before them is not going to tell the truth in a direct manner due to the issue of face. This is not uncommon even among more free-thinking Western patients. However, for the Chinese this goes deeper. Face means not being put in a position of shame. In the culture as a whole, the taboo of mental illness is high. People will not admit to anyone that a family member has a problem of this kind or that they themselves are mentally unhealthy. The awareness of shame is very high and controls the daily aspects of business, government, and personal behaviour. A man whose wife is cheating on him will simply complain of headaches to the doctor and request some medicine to help him. To admit that this is in fact stress would be to admit weakness of character—so in turn the physical complaint is easier to cope with and address.

How shame and face affect therapy: First, even if you can get the person into a therapeutic relationship, they will avoid opening up about their concerns to avoid losing face in front of you. This then requires the therapist to begin sessions with an open honest approach to talking about shame and face directly to the patient. The client will instantly understand your meaning and seek a non-judgemental attitude from the therapist in return. It still may take several sessions for the client to trust the therapist before a real exchange of information based on the true nature of their problems comes forth.

Relationships and favour: In China the word relationship carries with it the factor of favour—that is, a relationship is about what you do for each other. Often, it is to one’s advantage that a person does a favour for you. In return, at some future point, you will return that favour—often many times bigger than the original favour. This system of relationships works through government, business, and in daily life.

For example, a university student is failing his course, so the father makes a generous contribution to the University building program, and the boy’s papers are then marked higher. In the West this is corruption, in China just a relationship being confirmed. In the future, the student may become successful; in turn one day he may be asked to contribute; he will feel under obligation to do so. It is this ongoing sense of obligation that causes a great deal of unhappiness in China. In England, we have the old-boys network: the inside practice of people from Oxford or Cambridge University giving jobs and promotions to those who, like them, went to the so-called right places. In China they have these forms of relationships born out of favour and return. Understanding this helps the therapist avoid being shocked and confused when favour is played out so directly.

Family (fealty) and the one-child policy: Family has always been strong in China and from an early age, family loyalty is seen as crucial to survival in the future, as one generation relies on the next for support in old age or infirmity. The one-child policy has dramatically affected the Chinese people’s experience and the lives of families. Under the one-child policy there comes an increased insecurity amongst the elderly and the young alike. Parents put enormous pressure on this one child from an early age to conform to educational expectations, moral responsibility, and the work ethic. In the past, maybe five or six children would have shared the burden, but today that is no longer true; single children feel the increasing need to make a success of life in order to care for their parents later. Cousins become brothers and sisters, which is an adaptive social support, but they cannot share the parental burden as each has their own.

The one-child rule is not rigid: one can have more than one child, but the state only recognises the first child as the recipient of state benefits and schooling freedom. Additional children become a financial burden to the parents. Girls are not appreciated in the family in the same way boys are. Although both genders tend to be over-indulged and spoiled in youth, the boys are definitely given more leeway and mothers’ dotage. In the past, boys were favoured over girls, and if a baby girl was suspected in the first pregnancy, it was often aborted or self-aborted under pressure by the family.

There are many issues that lead to the one-child policy that may seem quite unfamiliar to the Western point of view: over-population, not enough food, overcrowding in the city and lack of services in rural areas, shrinking agriculture and streamlining of production—all leading to massive unemployment and in some cases starvation and poverty. While the West may talk of the legitimate role and value of human rights—the right to choose to give birth or not—practical survival overrides this consideration in the minds of most Chinese people. “The impact of the one-child policy is yet to be known in terms of the psychology of these children, as well as the impact on society and families as a whole”, but it is something that is on the minds of psychologists, the people and the policy decisions of government leaders.

Clash of cultures: In modern Chinese cities it seems as if there is a KFC, McDonalds, or another mass-market fast food outlet on every city block. These fast food restaurants take away the traditional diet of high vegetable and low meat consumption. In return, the young are now enticed to a high-fat, high-sugar, and unhealthy but trendy diet of rubbish food. You can already see the problems of anorexia and obesity in children. The increase in cars and traffic in China is explosive and driving at high speeds is common with resultant high accident rates. The intensity and rate of change is so fast with the growth of the economy, population movement from the rural areas to cities, changes in family size and value systems, making it all quite stressful to keep up with and adjust to the changes.

Education: The educational system in China is very different from that in the West. It is based on memory learning and a strict examination system with little room for failure. Chinese schools manufacture the right qualities for the work place in conformity and strict adherence to authority figures. The system does not teach critical thinking, so wealthy Chinese often groom their one child to go to an overseas University to obtain a broader education, if they can afford it. The benefits of the Chinese educational system, including discipline and basic skills, are evident, but the pressures also impact the emotional well-being of the people.

Suicide: There are 25 suicides per every 100,000 people in China each year, compared with 15 per 100,000 globally. According to the Chinese Ministry of Health the leading cause of death amongst people ages 15 to 34 is suicide, which costs the country at least $3.5 billion a year and is second only to the US. A recent report by the Ministry on the nation's biggest killers listed suicide just after road mishaps.

Language issues: One Chinese woman inquired with me about how I could understand the Chinese psyche when I had no knowledge of the subtlety and non-verbal behaviour that accompanies the Chinese language and peculiarities of expression. I had to agree that this limits my understanding in some respects, which I attempt to fill in by asking more questions of the locals. Yet, as an outsider, I can report my experiences and observations, while people inside the culture give theirs; each view has its own intrinsic and unique value.

I speak about 200 common Mandarin words and can get by in most everyday situations, like in cafes asking for the check. Most of my clients are educated Chinese women and can speak good English. They start learning English from about age 12 and they think it is very important to their careers to speak it well. Occasionally, my Chinese assistants, some who are psych graduates, may sit in and translate, but this is quite rare. I have also found that being culturally aware and non-judgemental is more important than worrying about missing something. After all, it is for the client, not the therapist, to come to an understanding of self in order to cope with life’s problems.

Gender and society

There still exists a culture of male power, ownership, and control (of the money and wife). I have seen a mild change in Shanghai, because here many women out-earn men, creating a whole new social reality for both genders. Historically, women were not seen as integral to long-term family economics. This is traditional in the sense that boys were seen as continuing the farming and family work. Daughters would be married off to another village as quickly as possible, as this saves money in the long run. Even in modern China, parents still find it hard to imagine their daughters bringing in sufficient money to keep them in old age and so encourage good economic matches for marriage. A woman’s first boyfriend is often the husband-to-be, which leaves little room for comparisons and making informed choices.

China is a society dominated by men in all political, social, and business arenas. At one company I visited it was clearly the wife who ran the business and handled the money, but it was the husband who fronted the company to visitors and potential customers. Many male businessmen instinctively talk directly to the men as if the women are not even present.

Chinese women’s relationships and marriage: My exploration of Chinese women and marriage began by accident as much enquiry does: a few remarks here and there by Chinese women, the experience of suicides on campus, the attitude of the men in China and my own experience with living in Chinese homes. These chance remarks and conversations led me to a question: why are so many Chinese women unhappy in their marriages? In most of the homes I stayed in, I could feel the tension between the husbands and wives, almost a tangible atmosphere of resentment.

Most of my clients, who were women, came to me through recommendations via their friends. They seemed to know intuitively that I would not judge them; perhaps being an outsider helped. At first, my insight was rather poor, but as I understood the culture more, I was able to help many of these women face their lives with new hope, often through the technique of reframing: helping them to re-look at their lives and make some positive moves for change.

There are many factors and social pressures that impact women’s lives and marriages in China including the question of love vs. material security, the influence of the husband’s mother on the new wife, and the gender issues between men and women with regard to economic power and control.

Love vs. material security: Often women marry for material considerations and not for love. In my experience, women agree with the wishes of the parents wanting security for their daughters, but through years of socialization, they too believe this is in their best interest. Love is a luxury you cannot afford if you want to survive in a country with undeveloped social services and poor chances of surviving on one’s own.

In the United States about 50 percent of all marriages are now ending in divorce and these marriages were apparently based on love matches. The Chinese use this information to support the notion that love is just a temporary madness that soon dies. They have a point, but there may be other ways of understanding this issue. Most research shows that in order for a relationship to last, the couple needs to have common interests and shared goals in life. It is often when these areas diverge that divorce rears its head in the West. For the Chinese, marriage is about security, loyalty, and family, with love not being a valued factor, at least before marriage.

The wife and the mother-in-law: The new wife is traditionally seen as a new servant by the husband’s mother. Even today, women are often expected to join their husband’s family. Today, some young couples are talking about getting their own apartments and with it some privacy and freedom. Two things seem to get in the way of this: first, the spiralling costs of apartments in China reinforce the old ways, and second, the husbands often invite their mothers to live in the same house or provide her a room for whenever she wants to stay (often months at a time).

The traditional husband: The traditional husband sees the wife in ownership terms and believes her first loyalty is to his family and particularly his mother. Therefore, many wives feel marginalised in the marriage by the husband’s family. Chinese men rarely talk about these issues and they have great difficulty expressing themselves when they do. However, many women reported to me that they suspected their husbands of having girlfriends on the side. For the most part, men seem satisfied with this arrangement of wife and girlfriend, as the wife takes care of all his domestic needs and the girlfriend is his emotional outlet.

In most relationships and marriage difficulties, it takes two to make it and two to solve the problems. The man’s side of relationships and marriage is certainly worthy of more study and investigation. However, at the time of this writing, it is highly unlikely that a husband would come to a therapy meeting, let alone discuss his personal feelings. Perhaps this will change as the men and culture change, as well as new methods are developed to connect to Chinese men in ways that make sense to them. Women in China, however, given the opportunity to talk to a therapist, will open up and share their experiences. “The most important factor for them is a non-judgemental attitude from the therapist and confidentiality; these bedrock therapist traits and attitudes transfer just about anywhere in the world.”

Case examples

A few examples will help give a sense of the common themes that women have brought to counselling. One 27-year-old woman, Jiang (pseudonym), had been married for a few years and contacted me for a talk. She explained how, having married for the prospect of security, she now found herself mostly alone and with no common interests with her husband other than daily hassles such as rent and food. He ignored her emotional needs and Jiang felt isolated within his family.

I have heard these same stories so often now that it has become somewhat of a pattern. The issue is often one of security over emotional needs. For the woman, at first, emotional needs are not as important if she is secure from poverty, but as time goes by the loneliness of two people with no common feelings eventually leads to a major sense of loss and depression.

Another client, Li Ching (pseudonym), met her boyfriend at the university. They were together for four years, and in the final year they had sex for the first time in a backstreet hotel. Li Ching did not enjoy it. They married a year after leaving the university. Now married five years, Li Ching is extremely unhappy. Moreover, in a country with a history of a one-child policy from the government, Li Ching did not want any children; this is frowned upon by all in the husband’s family. She approached me to discuss her worries. Li Ching is now 28 years old and the first thing she told me was, “I do not love my husband and never have.” She had been unhappy for some time and often frequented night clubs with her girlfriends to dance out her frustrations. She had recently started to learn the Spanish language and at a club met a Spanish man. After a few months, she started to have an affair with this man and reported to me that she has discovered her sexuality and thinks she is in love.

Li Ching found a way to temporarily alleviate her pain via the affair, though of course such a method brings other difficulties and challenges such as divorce and potential shame from family. I am certainly not recommending an affair as a means of coping, only that in this case that is how this woman sought relief from her situation. Many Chinese wives do not see a way to improve their marriages or to find a way out—and rather than face the shame of divorce and the loss of face in the family, become severely depressed and feel that taking their life is the only viable option. Even in the countryside, some women take their lives with industrial fertilizer or pesticide, easy to obtain on farms.

The suicide rate amongst young women in China is high, as I have noted earlier, and it is often an option expressed by those who feel hopelessness. I have heard too many of the women report they had contemplated this end, and this has made me more determined to help where I can. Therapy is not a cure, but a system to help people cope in the world they inhabit. I am happy that, in my experience, most clients report improvement and the increased ability to control their own lives and decisions.

I have witnessed some happy marriages in China, but my research was not to look for happy marriages, which could be the topic of another paper. Instead, my research was to look at what was going on in the unhappy marriages that so many women were talking about.

One great thing about the Chinese clients I have seen, and in this case it is overwhelmingly women who come for counselling, is how loyal they become to people who have a therapeutic relationship with them. Even after treatment has ended many go on to write regular emails to let me know how they are getting on and many are on MSN, Yahoo, and Skype and often say hello and bring me up to date. The Internet has been an important tool for ongoing client support.

Psychotherapy training in China

When I first came to China four years ago, I worked in the research department of the Hubei University in Wuhan (central China). I am currently in Shanghai where I work as Clinical Director for a counselling training company and an EAP provider. At this company they train counsellors for the China licensing body. One of my assigned tasks here in China has been to train a new generation of young therapists with a Western perspective on client treatment. Another task is to supervise the trainers, who are often Chinese professors. The therapy organizations that do exist in China are not training on a wide scale. A beginning-level licensing system does exist and it is fairly easy to pass if you have enough money and time to train.

In China the students learn about the different forms of psychotherapy over an 18-week period, followed by 18 weeks of training in cognitive behavioural therapy and 18 weeks of transactional analysis. This educational background, coupled with experience counselling patients with supervision, gives them a beginning foundation from which to counsel clients.

The classes I teach are at different levels, ranging from undergraduates in their third year (they all do four-year degrees here) through Masters Degree students. Most of the Masters students concentrate on School Psychology and counselling for children with difficulties at school as well as how to handle exceptional children and mental retardation. Many of these Masters-level students go on to become teachers in middle or primary schools where they also act as the school’s counsellor and teacher advisor.

Many students will end up in fields other than psychology, having achieved better people skills and management potential. However, many also become counsellors at schools and colleges. Some who become full-time counsellors often keep in touch with me when they need help or advice. I have set up a peer supervision group for trainees to overcome the shortage of supervisors since many counselors often report to non-professionals. As for post-graduate internships, this is almost unheard of here.

It has been my experience that most Chinese clients are generally not good candidates for Western-style cognitive behavioural therapy—it is too direct and challenging and makes them withdraw. Although CBT has been seen as quite useful for many Asians in the US because of these directive qualities, that has not been my experience. (See a different view of CBT in Chinese Taoist Cognitive Psychotherapy article and in Commentary below.) From my experience, it seems that traditional psychodynamic therapy is often not active nor supportive enough in its Western form for the Chinese client. (See Psychoanalysis in China, September Archive for another take.) I have found that transactional analysis (TA) works very well here.

Chinese people and clients readily understand Eric Berne’s model of the Parent, Adult, and the Child ego states. TA also talks about drivers, life positions, OK-ness, critical parents, and nurturing parents, which are all clearly understood. The one area of TA they all agree on is the position and dilemma of the adapted child—the child who seeks to do anything to survive by following the parents' lead.

Chinese psychotherapy students

Generally, my Chinese psychology students really enjoy learning about therapy and the techniques applied in a Western counselling format. Most had serious arguments with their parents about their choice of majoring in psychology. Parents would argue that there is no money or jobs in psychology, it is not secure, and would not help with getting a good marriage, as well as many other future catastrophes. For the students who managed to stand their ground, they had to endure enormous pressure. This means as a teacher you end up with strong-minded students, keen to prove their choice was the correct one and wanting and demanding the best teaching. For a teacher to have a room of 30 to 50 students who are attentive to your every word is heaven sent, and I am quite grateful.

At first, “many students find it hard to let go of their cultural prejudice and allow clients to be themselves versus a preconceived idea of the Chinese social norm.” Many students report great difficultly in getting their clients to talk to them about feelings and they spend a greater part of sessions hearing about the goals and plans of the client, subjects clients present to avoid dealing with their emotional turmoil.

My students commonly reported that their clients do not trust them to keep confidentiality, which is as much based on distrust of authority as it is a view on therapy. The most common client reasons for hesitance to open up are, “I am okay, these feelings will not last,” “I will have to suffer,” and “It is the Chinese way.” Clients are part of a collective culture and mindset of shame-based attitudes, distrust of authority, and a persistent stigma about emotional troubles, thus making trust a difficult task to accomplish in therapy.

New counsellors in the West find it hard at first to relax a client enough for them to feel trusting and confident, but the clients usually expect and accept that therapy is a supportive tool despite their fears. In China the counsellors must work extra hard to gain the trust and confidence of the wary client. Unlike my students, I have had many years of experience as a therapist and know how to help most clients relax and open up fairly quickly. The counsellors I have trained directly have had rocky starts but they pick up these skills in time and soon find their own style of doing things, just as any Western trained therapist does.

In class exercises, when students practiced counselling each other, the female students found it particularly hard to get male clients to talk or share. The male students found it impossible to discuss personal problems with women. Thus, gender roles and issues must be considered and accounted for in working with Chinese clients as well.

Each student has to see psychotherapy clients over the training period at the undergraduate level. They produce a three-part report after each session to the supervising psychologist. At the end of ten sessions they must produce a three-page report summarizing their experience—a case biography, their assessment in technical terms of the clients presenting problems and their action, and exploration of their own feelings that came up while conducting the therapy and how it affected their thinking and outlook. This information enables the supervisor to interview the students and to understand the insights they gained.

The future of psychotherapy in China

It is my hope that mental health services can expand in China and different forms of psychotherapy and counselling will be accepted as normal for ordinary people to access with confidence. However, much progress in the view toward people who suffer from mental and emotional difficulties is needed so that help can be sought out without the fear of shame or losing face; it took a great amount of time for this to occur in the West, and there is still progress to be made there as well.

Certainly, new theories and techniques that are tailored to the Chinese people must be developed as Western and Chinese therapists alike gain more experience and insight. There are signs of greater acceptance of counselling and psychotherapy as witnessed by the training programs and the numbers of students interested in pursuing training, as well as the people who come to and benefit from counselling.

A personal note on my experiences in China

I have found the Chinese people to be friendlier and more willing to help others in a crisis than the people in most of the nations I have been to. I have been made more welcome in Chinese homes than ever in the West with its fortress mentality. The Chinese see each other’s efforts as having a direct effect on everyone and therefore are very considerate of others’ feelings and opinions. I have seen that they sometimes find a Westerner’s directness very unsettling, which I have learned to adjust to. In therapy, I have found that it is key to take into account the relationship as being of greatest importance to the client. I imagine that is true everywhere, and no less true here.

I would rather live in China than most of the hundred-plus countries I have visited over the years. The lifestyle is relaxed and informal—and I feel quite happy each day, since I am treated well by most everyone I meet. There is also a rich cultural history here and beautiful scenery, buildings, and art, which I enjoy often.

My appreciation: Thanks to the following participants in my explorations into Chinese life, culture, and relationships: ZheJiang Normal University, Institute of Psychology; Hubei University, School of Psychology; Shanghai Pinghe International School; the over 200 women in China who told me their stories, and the numerous families that invited me to stay for a week at a time in their homes in the city and the countryside.


Commentary by Hui Qi Tong


In this commentary, Hui Qi Tong explores questions and ideas raised in Dr. Myler’s account. As a Chinese woman trained in medicine and psychiatry in China, having worked as a psychotherapist and clinical researcher in the US and China, and now in a psychology internship in a doctoral program in California, she gives her unique perspective on psychotherapy in China, Taoism and CBT, women in China, the role of shame, and her work with Chinese American clients.

From Shanghai to San Francisco

From China to the USA, and from the East Coast to the West Coast, I have worked with clients in both clinical and clinical-research contexts. Thus, I was pleased to be asked by Psychotherapy.net to offer my commentary on topics raised by Dr. Myler on psychotherapy in China as well as to offer some of my own thoughts based on my experience of having worked with clients in China and Chinese American clients in Massachusetts and California. It is my hope that my commentary and explorations will broaden the dialogue on the topic of psychotherapy in China.

Below, I offer an abbreviated history of my journeys in psychiatry and psychology to date, not just to introduce my training but, more importantly, to show the multiple ways that the worlds of east and west have come together in my work.
  • Shanghai, China: I received my Master’s degree in Medicine (equivalent to an M.D. in the USA), specializing in Psychiatry from Shanghai Medical College, Fudan University, in 1994. I did my residency training in psychiatry at the Shanghai Mental Health Center and the Psychological Counseling Center, Zhong-shan Hospital, a teaching hospital of Fudan University.
  • Boston, Massachusetts: I came to the United States to join a research lab at Children’s Hospital in Boston in 1995. After about six years doing genetics research on neuromuscular diseases, I went back to the psychiatry field and worked as a Clinical Research Associate in the Psychiatry Department, Tufts University School of Medicine.
  • Shanghai, China: In 2001, I interviewed suicide attempters and their families as an ethnographic assistant for a multi-site study on Attitudes Toward and Cultural Meanings of Suicide in Contemporary Chinese Society, a project funded by the Chinese University of Hong Kong.
  • Palo Alto and San Francisco, California: Since 2002, I have been a graduate student in the PhD program in Clinical Psychology at Pacific Graduate School of Psychology. I have served as a research collaborator and content expert for the Chinese Caregiver’s Assistance Program at Stanford University and I am currently a psychology intern with the San Francisco Veterans Administration Medical Center.
Now, I turn to my experiences in psychotherapy with clients in China and the United States, engaging the questions of Chinese culture, women, Taoism and CBT, my ideas about working with Chinese clients, and the status of mental health and training in China.

Seeing clients in China

While in China, where I was from, I saw clients at the Shanghai Mental Health Center in both the outpatient and inpatient units. Most of the patients are walk-in patients without scheduled appointments. I did not know who to expect to see before they came in the door. Patients were usually accompanied by their family members who sat with the patients during the visit to provide collateral information. As most patients had severe psychopathologies, besides observation of the patients, I relied heavily on the information on symptoms and medication provided by family members. While on the inpatient ward including a locked unit, I was assigned a few patients with diagnoses ranging from schizophrenia and schizoaffective disorder to bipolar disorders. My work was closely supervised by the attending psychiatrists on the ward.

The experience with the Counseling Center at Zhong-shan Hospital was quite different. Zhong-shan Hospital is one of the top general hospitals and the clients seen there are mostly with neurotic disorders. However, clients with early-stage schizophrenia were often seen there as well. Many families prefer to go to a general hospital rather than a mental health center which is less private and more stigmatized. The patients waited outside the room. The nurse gave them symptom measures such as SCL-90 and BDI for new clients before the psychiatrist saw them.

All of the therapists in the Counseling Center were psychiatrists. I first worked with my supervisor, Dr. Jun-mian Xu, observing him doing therapy. Most of the time, he prescribed medication as well, both Western and herbal medicine. He wrote the prescription on the patient’s record book (patients at the outpatient clinic kept their own medical record at that time) and I then copied them onto the prescription paper.

Most of Dr. Xu’s clients were scheduled in advance through the outpatient registration. He had to limit the number of patients he could see in one afternoon. I still remember we were always the last ones leaving the outpatient building on Saturday evenings around 7 pm. He saw 10 to 15 clients for an average of about 25 minutes each. Later on I started to see clients independently and discussed cases with senior colleagues, i.e., attending psychiatrists. However, there was no formal supervision when I worked there in the early 1990s.

Around that time, three or four of Dr. Xu’s graduate students, including myself, were learning Cognitive Behavioral Therapy and we all did our dissertations related to CBT, e.g., validating Beck’s Hopelessness Scale, studying the cognitive style of Chinese who were depressed, etc.

During my work there, I did not feel that it was difficult connecting with patients though I worried that I was much younger than the majority of my clients. I found that discovering commonalities between myself and patients was often a big help to bridge the differences between us and build an alliance. For example, one of my male clients, much older than I was and a well-established engineer who just returned from Britain, insisted that we use English in our work. I gladly tried that as I’d been interested in language as well and it readily made him feel comfortable and open.

Being open to psychotherapy?

In my discussions on the question of psychotherapy with Chinese people, many have raised the question, “Will Chinese clients share their deepest emotions/feelings? Will they open up to a stranger?” Speaking from my own experience, sure they do, but not in the same way that clients from the West might. In a similar way, I heard many times that group therapy won’t work for Chinese as Chinese people won’t share their deepest feelings or won’t “air their dirty laundry.” Now there is much group work done in China, especially since Irvin Yalom’s classic The Theory and Practice of Group Psychotherapy was introduced to the Chinese mental health community.

I also attended groups in the Chinese Community in the Bay Area in Northern California with patients and/or family members. They did share in a group setting. They may be sharing in a way different from what we expected and different when compared to people who were raised in the West, but isn’t each individual unique in telling his/her stories and sharing his/her experiences with another person? To further explore these issues, I turn to the next common question: What is the role of shame in Chinese culture and how does it impact psychotherapy?

Shame and psychotherapy in Chinese culture

The Chinese character of shame has two radicals: an ear on the left; and a stop on the right. Literally, anything you don’t want others to hear would be shameful. Shame can be distinguished from guilt: a total self-failure vis-à-vis a standard produces shame, while a specific self-failure results in guilt.1 The universal view of shame states that shame is one of the quintessential human emotions and feelings of shame are the same cross-culturally, which makes a lot of sense to me. Chinese culture values individuals who have a sense of shame, who know right from wrong and who have an awareness of falling short of a standard. In Western society it is not socially desirable to be shameless either, though what brings it about could be quite different. Culture plays a significant role in what precipitates shame, how shame is expressed and handled.

Thus, what is normal in one culture could be viewed as shameful in another. For example, sending aging parents with dementia to a nursing home for Chinese American caregivers is often viewed as something shameful as it violates the Confucian value of filial piety. Chinese families tend to rely heavily on family resources and do not seek external assistance until the internal resources are exhausted. Institutionalizing frail elders seems to be abandoning them. While guilt or shame may accompany family experiences in the West, nursing homes are home to many Western elders despite such feelings and the reaction seems quite different. “Slurping noodles while enjoying the deliciousness of the noodle and the soup is culturally acceptable in China, however, it will bring embarrassment and shame if you do this even in a Japanese noodle house on Castro Street in San Francisco.” Indeed, I was taught by my English tutor not to make noise while eating before I came to the United States. But something I would see as rude, such as blowing one’s nose as loudly as one pleases in the office, is common practice in the U.S.

Shame also was a theme that emerged in my discussions with colleagues on suicide in China. One colleague told me about his cousin’s tragic suicide in the 1980s in rural Hunan province after finding out that she was pregnant: “She was so ashamed.” Pre-marital pregnancy was often viewed as a moral debacle, but an induced abortion required a marriage certificate or connection with medical staff at that time. Moreover, it could bring shame upon the whole family where the parents would be blamed as being incapable of raising their children properly. The young girl experienced her pregnancy as a failure to conform to the moral standard on her part and used death to get rid of the shameful feeling, at least from the perspective of her cousin.

While some amount of shame in a culture can help people get along, be considerate and avoid hurting others, there is also a downside. In the past decade, researchers in China began to study shame, mental health and personality among college students. Students who were high in shame tended to have a stronger sense of worthlessness and powerlessness and presented more self-denial and escapism in difficult situations.2

A collective, inter-dependent culture with standards that involves a prominent focus on consideration toward others is also more shame-prone. Over time, I learned as a parent, when my son did something unacceptable, to communicate, “I love you, but I don’t like what you just did,” instead of communicating, “You are not a good boy,” so as not to elicit unhealthy shame so common in traditional parenting.

The Western humanistic value of self-actualization can be viewed as shameful in a culture like China that emphasizes conformity, causing clashes between satisfying individual needs and the needs of others. I personally know Chinese American college students who gave up their own career goals to conform to their parents’ demands in order to be dutiful children as valued by the Chinese culture. However, they became very depressed as a result.

Shame would be a very relevant issue to bear in mind when working with Chinese clients in psychotherapy. Characteristics like being incapable of holding down a job, establishing a family, or fulfilling the duty as a child, could be viewed as imperfect in regard to the standards of the Chinese culture and society in which one lives, and are common reason for the occurrence of shame. Family history of mental illnesses, of violence and trauma, especially childhood sexual trauma, is very sensitive information that could be shame-laden.

Therapists first need to be comfortable asking such questions. They may need to provide a rationale for gathering such information and to normalize it as part of a routine procedure while remaining empathetic and supportive throughout. Sometimes, the client may take several steps or sessions to share the information they feel deeply shamed about. Once they do open up, they often experience a huge relief and it can be very healing as, perhaps for the first time, they are able to go through the darker and desperate roads with their therapist's support and witness.

The Chinese woman, the Three Obediences and the Four Virtues

The traditional Chinese feminine ideal, as it is handed down from the earliest times, is summed up in the Three Obediences and the Four Virtues. The Three Obediences are: when unmarried, she lives for her father; when married, she lives for her husband; and when widowed, she lives for her children. The Four Virtues include: womanly character, womanly conversation, womanly appearance, and womanly work. As the Chinese community is going through rapid social and economic changes, these deeply ingrained ideals about women’s roles and responsibilities are changing quickly. Women are becoming more independent and most women in China work outside of the home: “Half of the sky belongs to women.” However, this can also become a double burden as women have to face the same pressure in work as men, as well as being expected to be good housewives and homemakers.

The fact that China has one of the highest rates of female suicide in the world is deeply disturbing and warrants continued in-depth research. One may argue that Chinese women are not the most oppressed in the world. However, according to World Health Organization statistics, China is the only country in the world where more women commit suicide than men. (Of note, in the United States, more woman than men attempt suicide but overall, there are more completed males suicides.) Social, cultural, economic and healthcare system factors all contribute to the phenomenon. Suicide can be understood as social resistance or protest against an oppressing patriarchal system, e.g., the last strategy used by disempowered women against maltreatment and brutality in an oppressive marriage.3

As the society keeps changing, the ambivalence about gender roles will still exist. Women will likely continue to be more dominant in the domestic domain while their roles in workplaces will be increasingly recognized. Traditions will continue to weigh heavily on women but with education, job opportunities, and improved women’s rights, they will have more inner and external resources to deal with difficult situations in their lives. With greater material security, both men and women will increasingly be able to seek a bond based on true feelings.

CBT and Taoism in China

In North America, I often hear the speculation that the directive approaches to psychotherapy match well with Chinese people’s respect for authority and their advice-seeking behavior. Indeed, this makes apparent sense. The structure of CBT also works well for a population that emphasizes learning and education. The practical, present- and future-centered focus of CBT also resonates well with Chinese people. Dr. Jun-Mian Xu, my supervisor and dissertation Chair at Fudan University in Shanghai, first introduced cognitive behavioral therapy to China after finishing a fellowship in Canada. He and his team have been working from this approach since the late 1980s and have trained hundreds of clinicians in CBT. Now, over 20 published studies have examined the effectiveness of cognitive behavioral therapy for depression, anxiety, sexual dysfunction, and personality disorders, with promising results.

Chinese researchers are searching for cultural adaptations of CBT to fit better with the Chinese people. Asserting the influence of Taoism on Chinese cognitive and coping styles, Zhang, et al4 and his colleagues developed Chinese Taoist Cognitive Psychotherapy (CTCP). “Clients are helped to achieve deep understanding of philosophical tenets such as “restricting selfish desires, learning to be content, and knowing when to let go,” “being in harmony with others and being humble, using softness to defeat hardness,” “maintain tranquility, act less, and follow the laws of nature.”5” Results of a randomized controlled study involving 143 patients with generalized anxiety disorder support the efficacy of CTCP.

Dr. Gallagher-Thompson’s group at Stanford University has finished one of the first randomized controlled-outcome studies of a multi-component CBT-based manualized treatment for Chinese family caregivers for dementia patients in the Bay Area, Northern California.6 They found that this group of Chinese American caregivers were receptive to CBT and those that received treatment experienced less subjective burden and had substantially reduced depressive symptoms than the comparison group who received bi-weekly telephone support. Currently, pilot studies using this manual are being carried out in California and Hong Kong.

Psychotherapy with Chinese American clients in California

When I began my studies in Clinical Psychology at the Pacific Graduate School in 2002 I was most interested in psychotherapy as well as the training systems in California. In my second year, I did a practicum in a community counseling setting. Since 2005, I was first an extern and currently have been a psychology intern working with the military veteran population at the San Francisco VA Medical Center. In my clinical work, the greatest challenge has been the differences between me and most of my clients in terms of our linguistic, ethnic, and cultural background. At the VA, we emphasize cultural competency as part of the growth of the therapist and the psychotherapy work. I often invite my clients to ask any questions and bring up concerns they have about me in terms of my education background, culture, language, etc. This often becomes the first step in building a rapport with my clients.

I also worked with a wide variety of Chinese American clients, from the university students struggling with intergenerational conflicts, career choices, and sexual identity, to Chinese American veterans from WWII, to newly returning veterans from Iraq. I first assumed that, since I am Chinese, it would be easier for me to connect with Chinese Americans. I found however, it depends on many factors such as the level of acculturation of the client and myself, the language, expectations about therapy, past experience of therapy, beliefs about mental health disorders, and personal fit.

For example, I was quite careful when I made my first phone call to a client referred to me, as he was ambivalent about coming into therapy. It became clear early on that this young Chinese American refused to “be fixed” by a therapist as he experienced his parents as having tried to fix him all of his life. We set out with time-limited therapy with eight sessions and started there, being sensitive to the core issues in his life.

Though each individual is unique, there are some common themes that emerged in my work with Chinese American clients. For example, most of them don’t talk about their depression or PTSD with family members. When asked, the two most common reasons given were: the stigma attached to mental disorder, and the concerns about burdening their parents, ““my parents won’t understand and I don’t want to make them worry.”” While I seek to honor the traditional values of respecting one’s parents, I also emphasize the importance of family support and the exploration and removal of unhealthy ideas about shame and emotional problems.

I expect there is still much to learn, and I will have many opportunities to work with Chinese American clients in the future. I would love to sum up some of the things I have learned from my work, though it is difficult since there is certainly no one-size-fits-all rule. With that in mind, here are a few ideas for working with Chinese and Chinese American clients in psychotherapy:
  • Get a sense of the client’s understanding and attitude toward mental disorders in traditional Chinese culture and medicine, stigma associated with mental disorders and emotional concerns, and their understanding of and expectation about psychotherapy.
  • Do not jump to the conclusion that “Chinese don’t trust” or “Chinese don’t talk about feelings.” Some do and some don’t, and it often depends on the situation and setting. Maybe there are unique ways of showing trust, but it may not be readily apparent or expressed verbally; behind that hesitance to open up, if that exists, may be past betrayals to explore, come to terms with, and understand over time. Also, traditionally, silence and not talking about oneself can be seen as a show of respect for authority.
  • Show interest in the client’s acculturation process, e.g., struggles, triumphs, and questions.
  • Find commonalities between you and your client, i.e., interest in Tai Chi or a particular food or movies. This is particularly important with immigrant clients in order to forge a sense of connection and common interests which are assumed in people from the same culture.
  • Build rapport with the client at a pace the client is comfortable with, that is, be sensitive to their pace, be it slower or faster than yours.
  • Case-specific formulation and treatment approaches are crucial regardless of the theoretical approach. Cultural patterns exist among ethnic groups, but the variation among people is still great and quite meaningful to that person.
  • Most importantly, be open and do not assume what a Chinese client will be like; instead focus on entering the room with compassion and genuine curiosity. Don’t be too embarrassed if you don’t know something since this not knowing can actually connect you to the client in a real way.
The more clients I see, the more I realize that people are often more similar than different. Certainly, many of the thoughts I listed above could be applied to my work with clients from other ethnic and cultural backgrounds.


The status of mental health training in China

Epidemiological studies reveal that about 190 million people (in a country of 1.3 billion people) meet the criteria for some type of mental disorder; however, only 10 percent of them receive treatment. In the past several years, there has been increased marketing of mental health practice and training. However, the result is limited and controversial. Since very few universities in China offer coursework in psychotherapy or counseling, the majority of the training is through continuing education programs such as those offered by the Department of Labor’s Mental Health Counseling Program and the German-Chinese Psychotherapy Training Program. These training programs attract trainees from all over China and can be conducted in a mental health center, a university setting, or a privately owned counseling company as long as the program is recognized by a licensing body.

The majority of the licenses offered so far are from the Department of Labor and Social Insurance. Five hundred hours of training will qualify a trainee at a bachelor’s level from any undergraduate field to attend the licensing exam. However, the quality of training and the license are often of great concern and are not necessarily honored by the professional mental health organizations. Currently, once licensed, the counselors are generally not allowed to work in a medical setting. Private practice is also very hard to build as competition is fierce. Medical doctors, especially psychiatrists who have both a medical license from the Chinese Medical Association and the License for Counselor from the Department of Labor, are at a much greater advantage. During the Chinese-German Conference held in Shanghai in May 2007, mental health professionals discussed the current status and strategies for psychological counseling and psychotherapy in China, including more systematic training, establishing licensure examination within the professional organizations, and promoting communication among different disciplines.7

No doubt  there will be many ramifications in the process of professionalism in clinical and counseling psychology in China. For instance, some people raised concerns about the possibility that those licensed through the Department of Labor and Social Insurance would be at a disadvantage and lose their jobs. However, I am optimistic as I believe those who became the first licensed counselors are those who are most sensitive to what is going on in the mental health field and the job market. They also had the courage to take some risks when the outlook was less than clear. They are well positioned to adapt to an ever-changing market and ever-changing system. Indeed, many licensed counselors are seeking further education beyond 500 hours, like my colleague, Ms. Wang, who recently stated: “It is not enough to work with clients with this training. I am seeking opportunities to further my education and training in counseling.”

The future of psychotherapy in China

Currently, training models from various approaches, such as psychodynamic therapy, cognitive behavioral therapy, family systems, transactional analysis, and existential all find their way to the mental health training system in China.8 However, it is too early to draw any conclusions regarding what approach works for Chinese at this point before more well-designed research is done. The result may well be the same as in the West: all works, but how much, with whom, and when become the more important questions.

It’s the psychotherapist’s responsibility in China, the US, and around the world to figure out what cultural adaptations to psychotherapy are needed to serve different populations. Even people within the same culture differ hugely (as we know that intra-group difference can be greater than inter-group difference). Case-specific formulation is increasingly emphasized in the West; so too should it be emphasized in the East.

My friend and colleague, Dr. Qi-feng Zeng, the founding president of the Chinese German Psychological Hospital in Wuhan, comforts me with these words: “It is worrisome that it is chaotic in the mental health training system, but we Chinese believe out of great chaos emerges great order!”

With the help and expertise of our Western colleagues in the mental health system in China, and the dedication of a new energetic group of Chinese psychotherapists, I believe a system of psychotherapy will emerge that will better serve Chinese people and contribute to a better understanding of human behavior.

Notes

1 Lewis, M. (1995). Shame: The Exposed Self, New York: The Free Press.

2 Qian, M., Liu, X., & Zhu, R. (March, 2001). Phenomenological research of shame among college students. Chinese Mental Health Journal, Vol 15 (2), 73-75.

3 Lee, S., & Kleinman, A. (2003). Suicide as resistance in Chinese society. In E. Perry & M. Selden (Eds.), Chinese society: Change, conflict, and resistance (2nd ed., pp. 289-311). London: Routledge Curzon.

4 Zhang,Y.,Young, D., Lee, S., Li, L., Zhang, H., Xiao, Z., et al. (2002). Chinese Taoist cognitive psychotherapy in the treatment of generalized anxiety disorder in contemporary China. Transcultural Psychiatry, 39, 115–129.

5 Zhang,Y.,Young, et al.

6 Gallagher-Thompson, D., Gray, HL., Tang, PC., Pu, CY., Leung, LY., Wang, P-Ch., Tse,C., Hsu, S., Kwo, E., Tong, HQ., Long, J., & Thompson, L. (2007). Impact of in-home behavioral management versus telephone support to reduce depressive symptoms and perceived stress in Chinese caregivers: results of a pilot study. American Journal of Geriatric Psychiatry, Vol. 15(5), p 425-434.

7 Xiao, Z. P. (2007). The current situations and strategies for psychological counseling and psychotherapy in China. Presented at the Chinese-German Congress on Psychotherapy, May, 2007.

Chang, D.F., Tong, H.Q., Shi, Q.J., & Zeng, Q.F. (2005). Letting a hundred flowers bloom: Counseling and psychotherapy in the People’s Republic of ChinaJournal of Mental Health Counseling. Special issue: Counseling Around the World, Vol 27 (2) 104-116.

Suggested readings

Xue, Xinran (2002). The good women of China. Vintage Publishing.

DK Publishing (2007). China: People Place Culture History. DK Publishing.