Daryl Chow on Reigniting Clinical Supervision

Supervision at the Crossroads

Lawrence Rubin: Good morning Daryl. Thanks for sharing your time with our readers. Your research and writing suggest that supervision as it has traditionally been practiced is in crisis. What is the crisis in the field of supervision that you are responding to in your work?
Daryl Chow: I think there are weaknesses in the status quo practice of supervision, and that is something that we should pay attention to and do something about. I think change needs to start to grow from what we know from the research, as well as from clinical practice in supervision. We need to do something that's closer towards two domains: helping therapists improve their performance and, while they're doing that, also emphasize what they are learning. So,
it's not just helping supervisors with what they're doing on a case-by-case basis, but also helping them to develop and evolve through time
it's not just helping supervisors with what they're doing on a case-by-case basis, but also helping them to develop and evolve through time.
LR: What does it mean to help supervisees or therapists grow and develop, as opposed to just performing in supervision?
DC: In my online course, Reigniting Clinical Supervision, we make an important distinction from the get-go between coaching for performance and coaching for development and learning. Coaching for performance is one way of doing clinical supervision where we help each therapist improve in the stuck cases they are presenting in supervision. This is indeed important in helping them work through the clinical issues that may be blocking progress or preventing them from making inroads in their work with clients.

But I also think what supervisors need to support is an undulating process of helping clinicians with their stuck cases, while also trying to glean general principles with which they can help clinicians then create or identify patterns that are showing up through these stuck cases. It is a matter of looking closely at the cases in which the clinician is not making progress in order to help them in their own personal and professional development. This transcends a case-by-case supervisory discussion in order to focus on the therapist’s growth edge; those skills and characteristics that are generalizable, or what Wendell Berry talks about in terms of agriculture, which is solving for patterns. So, these two worlds of coaching, or supervising for performance and development, need to come together in the supervisory relationship.

If you look at the literature right now from Edward Watkins and others who have done great work in the study of clinical supervision, we have not made any progress. If the outcome of effective supervision is reflected or measured in client improvement, we have not actually moved the needle.

Tony Rousmaniere and his colleagues wrote a paper in which they concluded that
the variance in client outcome accounted for by clinical supervision is less than 1%
the variance in client outcome accounted for by clinical supervision is less than 1%, which means not much, right? That's concerning, because we put so much time, effort, and money into supervision. So, while I don't think I would use such a strong word as crisis to describe the field of clinical supervision, there is definitely a need for change. I really think that we are seeing things slowly changing on the ground level and there are people who are trying to change what we have come to accept as standard practice in supervision. 

Supervising for Development

LR: Okay, so what is the supervisor actually working on when she is focused on the supervisee's development?
DC: Well, the short answer is specific stuff such as the supervisee’s learning objectives. And their learning objectives are based on their performance. I will give you an example. If a clinician was to seek help from a clinical supervisor, that clinician (the supervisee) would first need to have a baseline of their performance, not just at the client-by-client level, but based on a composite of cases that they're seeing that provides them with enough reliable client outcome data.

And then, from those results, they would try to figure out where they're at before deciding where they need to go and what issues they need to address in supervision. I think that's a critical first step, because better results in in clinical supervision as measured by client outcome are obtained sequentially, not simultaneously. By that I mean we need to figure out where the supervisee is at. If their clinical outcomes are average, that really doesn’t say much about what they need to do in order to improve their performance. It is a matter of taking the second step, which is zooming in or focusing on those areas of clinical practice and therapeutic relationship where that clinician needs to improve. Simply focusing on the fact that the clinician is “average regarding their clinical outcomes,” doesn’t tell the supervisor where she needs to focus her lens regarding the supervisee’s skills and development.

So, as an example, if a clinician’s performance was average compared to international benchmarks, the supervisor would then focus in on those cases in which the clinician was stuck. They might listen to some recordings of the clinician’s work to discover that the clinician and the client did not develop therapeutic goal consensus. And it is often the case that
goal consensus is one areas that's not often fleshed out or verified in the process of the first or even in subsequent sessions
goal consensus is one areas that's not often fleshed out or verified in the process of the first or even in subsequent sessions. You and I both know that the goalpost changes as we go, right?

Sometimes the goal is to figure out the goal, to figure out what is or should be the focus of the session. Then the therapist and supervisor work on that one specific area. And then—and this is the critical piece—if the clinician and client are indeed working on goal consensus, it's important for both the therapist and the client, as well as the therapist and the supervisor, to follow through with the work towards that goal and then determine if doing so actually had an impact on therapeutic outcome.  
LR: And just to define the outcomes variables you're talking about—are you talking about outcomes in the client progress, or in the supervisee’s behavior?
DC: I think you hit on an important note, because the feeling of benefit for the therapist does not mean actual benefit for the client that they work with. Remember, we're dealing with two steps removed from the office, so we need to make sure that the work we are doing with the supervisee translates into positive outcome for the client. It's almost like a paradox if you see two overlapping circles. Yes, it's about the supervisee’s performance, but if you focus purely on their performance, you're not going to go anywhere with the client. You're going to be riddled with anxiety. "Am I doing well? Am I doing badly?" And there's so much judgment involved.

We need to see the impact on our clients and see if our learning leads to impacting the people that we're working with. If the learning was focused on goal consensus, we want to see that it actually translates to an actual impact on the clients that you're working with on that level, on one client at a time. But we also want to see if that helps you to move up your effectiveness above your baseline. 
LR: It seems you're saying that, if a supervisor is good at his or her job and guiding the supervisee effectively in the deliberate practice of therapy, then the client will by definition improve.
DC: Wouldn't you expect that?
LR: I would, but isn't it possible that—and I'm not trying to be provocative—but that a supervisor may be very effective in guiding the supervisee or the clinician in deliberately practicing their craft, but the client doesn't improve? Does that mean that the supervision failed? Or might it just be that something was missed? In other words, can you have good supervision and still poor therapeutic outcomes? Or do poor outcomes in therapy mean that the supervision was not effective?
DC: That's a really good point that world-champion poker player, Annie Duke, talks about in her book, Thinking in Bets. She makes a very important distinction which I think we need to think about slowly and carefully. And the point that she was making is:
we tend to conflate outcomes with process
we tend to conflate outcomes with process.

She says that when we get a poor outcome, let's say in the game of poker, we think that our process is responsible for that outcome. She says we tend to conflate the two. If you take some time to think carefully about how you're making decisions, how you're building the process and making a good plan, then if the outcome is bad, don't make that conflation too quickly.

Because in the game of poker, just like in the game of life, there's a lot of random noise, a lot of things that are beyond your and my control. But if you understand with the help of a supervisor that you are working on something critical—in our case, goal consensus because we know the effect size for goal consensus is huge, then it becomes a matter of focusing more directly on building that particular skill in supervision, not other skills unrelated to goal consensus.

And if goal consensus is indeed important—even if one client doesn't work out well, you don't want to go and throw the baby out with the bathwater. You want to just go back and refine goal consensus building skills again. Close the loop. And this is one thing supervisors and therapists can do, is to make sure that, after a discussion, they close the loop.

It sounds so plain and simple, but I think it's really something that's lacking in supervision as well as clinical practice, that people don't really close the loop by figuring out ways to refine the important skills in supervision that actually impact client outcome. If you continue doing this with other clients, will this have an impact as well? 

Deliberate Practice

LR: Along these lines, you have an upcoming book, Better Results: Using Deliberate Practice to Improve Therapeutic Effectiveness, with Scott Miller and Mark Hubble. How can supervisors use deliberate practice to improve not only their supervisee's performance but their own performance as supervisors?
DC:
When we are working in supervision… we are really working within a multi-tiered structure that includes the supervisor, supervisee and the client.
It's a brilliant question, and I know, Lawrence, we've talked about this. My belief at this point is I think that it is critical. We are really in the early days of this type of investigation, but I think it's an important area to work on, and here's why.

My belief is that knowledge is multilevel. When we are working in supervision, we are doing just that because we are really working within a multi-tiered structure that includes the supervisor, supervisee and the client. And let me just use an analogy from the world of music. I'm always impressed by not just what the musician does in a music studio or how they work. I'm always interested in who else is in the room. And one of the things that comes up very often for me is the role of the producer. Sometimes it's the group of artists itself, and sometimes it's someone else.

And a couple of people that stick out to me are Brian Eno, who has worked with Talking Heads, Madonna, U2, and Rick Rubin who has worked with death-metal bands like Slayer. He's worked with many Hip Hop artists. He's also worked with the late Johnny Cash. There’s something about being in the presence of these types of producers that brings out the best in the musicians.

My question is twofold. One, what the hell are these producers doing that brings out the best in the musician? But I also am interested in how I can help others and myself be able to become more like a coach or mentor the likes of college basketball’s John Wooden. And the one thing that I think is becoming a little bit clearer as I go is that we really need a system of practice, a way to systematically organize ourselves around how we think about supervision. So, when I say system, it just means as simple as: how do we track outcomes?

My mentor and collaborator, Scott Miller, talks a lot about feedback-informed treatment. To me, measuring what we value is key, because measurement precedes professional development, so it is critical to help people, supervisees in this case, to systematically track their outcomes and to have a system of coaching already in place by the time they come into supervision.

And then we develop a taxonomy of deliberate practice activities so we know where they're at in the baseline, how to help them figure out a way to deconstruct the therapy hour and then pick up little things that they can work on. So, I guess my short answer, or rather my long answer is really, to figure out a system that can function as a platform from which we can begin to work on the more nuanced stuff in the role of supervisor. Am I making sense about this? 

A Portfolio of Mentors

LR: You are indeed, Daryl, and related to this notion of the producer and artist working in collaboration, you recommended that clinicians build a portfolio of mentors. Does that mean that, even though supervision is, as you call it, a signature pedagogy, that clinicians should build a production studio of sorts with other professionals? 
DC: As much as supervision is a signature pedagogy for our field, what's interesting for me of late is how people reaching out for consults or coaching often follows having given up on working with a supervisor for various reasons, unless they are in an agency setting where that is provided. But, yes, I think the idea of a portfolio of mentors is to say that
if you can figure out what's your leading edge or the gap that you're trying to work on, your default supervisor may or may not have the knowledge to help you
if you can figure out what's your leading edge or the gap that you're trying to work on, your default supervisor may or may not have the knowledge to help you.

And what you want to do is to create a community of people that you can turn to, that you can talk with, and then maybe a certain person you turn to more routinely. For instance, I've known a supervisor for more than a decade, and I always return to her. But if there was something else that was missing, or I wanted to stretch out and pick another mind to think of it from a different perspective, I would reach out to other people, even people who are so-called experts, and send them an email. I would ask them, "What's the fee? Can I come talk with you?" And most people are friendly. 
LR: In a way, isn’t that what you are trying to provide through your online supervision training, Reigniting Clinical Supervision?
DC: My focus for Reigniting Clinical Supervision is to help clinical supervisors design better learning environments that sustain real development for therapists, so as to achieve better client outcomes. The choice of an online learning platform is not a mere substitute for live teaching. Instead, gleaning from the best of what we know of optimizing learning, adopting a “one idea at a time” drip-based method of delivery of content and maintaining learner engagement, helps the busy practitioner weave what they learn into practice, and return to renew and reconsolidate new knowledge as a result of being in the course with me and other clinicians/supervisors.

Here’s how I think about the difference between a live training and how Reigniting Clinical Supervision is designed: A real-time training/workshop is like a river. It is a constantly flowing torrent of ideas. If the learner steps out of the river for a few minutes, or needs some time to think, he is now behind. The learner may be able to ask questions but needs to constantly try and catch up and not fall behind. A chance for a revisit of the content after some time of reflection is not possible, with only the notes or slides that you've captured.
Online learning, on the other hand, is like a lake. The learner can step in and out of the water at her own time
Online learning, on the other hand, is like a lake. The learner can step in and out of the water at her own time, and pace herself as she moves along; the water remains the same. This stillness allows for pausing, revisiting the material, reflecting, and connecting with past knowledge. Online learning at its best allows for the learner to ask questions, revisit the materials, and for the person to master a difficult segment before moving on.
LR: Within this community of mentors model, there are different factors that predict therapeutic outcome. They include goal consensus, alliance and repairing therapeutic ruptures. Can the same principles be applied to improve supervisor performance and development?
DC: Hopefully, that's paralleled or modeled within the supervisory work. I would encourage supervisors to also elicit feedback within the supervision. And most of us do that, but it is also important to do it in a way that's a little bit more about a ritual. This would mean using some quick check-ins that give the supervisee some space to think about it, and then to explore the nuances of the supervisor/supervisee relationship. It's much harder when you really know somebody well, like the supervisor knowing the supervisee, to give feedback.
LR: Have you experienced working with expert clinicians who are lousy supervisors?
DC: I'm thinking of the converse. So, let me look back in my mind. I don't mean this in any disrespectful way because I really respect this person's work. Jay Haley of the strategic school of family therapy talked about this and said that he was really good as a supervisor, but not as good as a therapist [laughs].
LR: I think of myself as being a better supervisor and teacher than therapist. In your language, perhaps that’s because I have not deliberately practiced therapy.
DC: Yes, right.
LR: I've performed therapy, but in the words of Scott Miller, I've not deliberately practiced it. So, it's interesting that just because someone may be a very competent clinician, it doesn't mean that they have the patience or skill to guide a fellow clinician as a supervisee, and vice versa.
DC: This harkens back to your question about the role of training supervisors in how they do deliberate practice, because, to me, there are overlaps, of course, but there are also distinct skills required in their roles as supervisors and therapists.
The role of a supervisor requires some skill to be able to articulate the concepts without getting lost in the weeds of abstraction
The role of a supervisor requires some skill to be able to articulate the concepts without getting lost in the weeds of abstraction.

Cardinal Supervision Mistakes

LR: Talking about getting lost in the weeds, you wrote an article for us about seven mistakes in clinical supervision. If you were to pick the top two cardinal mistakes from that list of seven that supervisors make, which ones flash red to you, and what can supervisors to do about them? 
DC: This is tough because the language around mistakes is all negative. I think, for me, the one that I've seen in my own experience and through my own mistakes is that of too much theory talk.
I think we talk too much. On the ladder of abstraction, talk is quite high up there
I think we talk too much. On the ladder of abstraction, talk is quite high up there. Bear in mind, when we're in supervision and in the absence of the actual client, we spend all our time talking in abstractions, at the level of theories about the client rather than about the therapeutic relationship.

When we're doing that, we've got to bear that in mind, that we don't have that person there, and we're talking at the level of theoretical abstraction, so many steps removed from what is occurring between the supervisee and the client. It's very easy to speak of it from whatever orientation or whatever philosophy you hold, without joining the dots of what's going to ripple down into the actual therapeutic relationship where the real work is happening.

Another big mistake in supervision is that when the clinical work is stuck and the supervisee and client are not making progress, the supervisor may say something in an attempt at being supportive to the supervisee like, "Well, at least they keep coming back, right?" In this instance, the supervisor is doing little more than what I call, patting them on the back–encouraging the supervisee without giving her any clear direction out of the stuck situation.

I'm really conflicted about that statement that I hear very often. Is that good enough for you, that they still come back? Or what else? What else can we be thinking of? How do we escape this domain of just talking on their level and to be able to make some real impact?  
LR:
Another big mistake in supervision is…encouraging the supervisee without giving her any clear direction out of the stuck situation
I know that being able to effectively conceptualize a clinical case, to think about it from different theoretical perspectives, is important. But you're saying, Daryl, that sometimes we err on the side of overthinking the theory at the expense of guiding the supervisee in building the relationship with their client, and then we congratulate the therapist for minimal progress? Seems like damning by faint praise.
DC: Yes and no. I think all prudent supervisors know that therapeutic relationship really matters. And by therapeutic relationship, let's be clear, it's not just about the emotional bond, even though that is one critical part. But the other part is the focus, which is about the goals, the directionality, where it's going. The next is also about whether there is a cogent method for both the therapist and the client. Are we in agreement? Is there a fit in where we're going? All those things relate to the therapeutic alliance.

I think most people are focused about that. But as you will see in the upcoming blog that I am writing for Psychotherapy.net, I will be talking about the three types of supervisory knowledge. One type of knowledge is about the content knowledge, about the clinical case, about the psychopathology. Those things are necessary but not sufficient. The second type of knowledge is the process knowledge about how you engage with somebody who's, say, depressed? How do you engage with somebody who's anxious? That's a process or type of relating kind of knowledge. How do you have that kind of conversation? As David Whyte, the poet and philosopher, would say, "the conversational nature of reality." How do you engage in that? How do you come into being with another person into that field? But the third one is conditional knowledge, which is; if you're working with somebody who's depressed due to bereavement, it's going to be very different than when you're working with somebody who is depressed as well but due to, say, domestic violence. The context is very different, and you need to figure out a way of relating with them given the different situation. So, by considering all three of these in supervision; playing into the content knowledge, process knowledge and conditional knowledge, I think the supervisor can synergize them for the benefit of both the therapeutic work and the development of the supervisee. The supervisor and supervisee having this multi-level conversation will benefit both the client and the supervisee. 

The Humble Teacher

LR: What do you see as some of the important personal qualities of an effective supervisor or a clinician who might become an effective supervisor?
DC: For me, of course,
a good teacher is somebody who is willing to be a good student
a good teacher is somebody who is willing to be a good student. If I'm picking a supervisor for myself, I'm always looking for somebody who implicitly—and it's not something that people would say explicitly, is willing to be wrong, willing to seek the counterfactuals, and then to have by default a stance of humility not just because they're trying to act humbly or bragging about their humility.

This humble teacher will say, “Hmm. Oh, hang on a second. I've really never thought of that.” And they're rethinking. That, to me, is interesting. And it's not because they don't have a wealth of knowledge. It's because this is dis-confirming what they know. And that's so exciting. That's like fresh air, you know, when you're working with somebody that way.

Additionally, somebody who has mental models or mental representations and concepts in their head about different ways to think about clinical situations and suggestions for the supervisee. They know that when they're facing this kind of situation, they have what Gerd Gigerenzer calls fast and frugal heuristics. They have little maps of how they will approach stuff. You know, they've thought it through before. They have ideas in their memory bank that they will pull into their working memory.

And you know that because when they're just giving off-the-fly statements, you know that it's off the fly. But if you know that they've thought about it, you realize their mental networks are vast. They know that it's an “if-then” situation, and they're thinking about it and all kinds of communications. That excites me because that shows to you this person has done some thinking before meeting with you. 
LR: Is this what you refer to when you say that true experts think like novices, or beginning therapists, while true novices think they're experts? Is it related?
DC: I think so. [chuckles] I think so.
LR: I like that idea that the expert supervisor, who may or may not be an expert clinician, has these—what did you call them—fast and frugal heuristics? Was that the term that you used?
DC: That's right, and I mean that's the term from Gerd Gigerenzer, who studies cognitive science. He talks of the importance of having these sorts of heuristics. You know, the way we've been terming it is mental representation. Things that happen might not just be easily explained using therapeutic models but by different ways of thinking. Like, what do you do if you meet somebody who is angry or depressed in the session? These heuristics or maps are not like stock answers but are based on clear principles that flow from these mental representations. What do you do with somebody who doesn't have a goal? How do you work with them? They have a rough and ready guide.

At the Cutting Edge

LR: So, the supervisor should aspire to flexible thinking, drawing on different belief systems, different ways of looking at the human condition, different interpretations of the same clinical presentation? It sounds like the advanced supervisor is out at this cutting edge of creativity, untethered to any one way of thinking.
DC: Yes.

This domain of creativity is something I'm really interested in. I think one thing we need to remember about creativity is that it's about something novel and something useful coming together? Wouldn't it be great if supervisors were not restricted to thinking solely in terms of the field of psychotherapy in the course of doing their supervision, and could bring in greater creativity?

Just thinking about architecture, music, art—thinking about other aesthetic forms and how all of these can inform ways of thinking. Coming back again to the example about goal consensus, why do we need to only think about this within the domain of psychotherapy? Why don't we learn about how other fields and business organizations think about creating focus? 
LR: So, we should consider using a flexible system of metaphors that transcend psychology and psychotherapy. When we first contacted each other, I mentioned that there seemed to be almost a spiritual undertone to the way that you described your personal philosophy of living and helping. Am I seeing it correctly, that there's a certain spirituality or spiritual dimension to your work as a clinician and a supervisor, and perhaps we should embrace that as well?
DC: Well, I'm grateful that you picked that up. To me, the answer is yes. And I think that's personally a deep embedment in my life. I was raised a freethinker from my Singaporean days. You know, this means I'm free to think or whatever that means. But I converted to become a Catholic when I was 21. When everybody else was running out of the Church, I was going back in. So, to me, that was my start.

But I think, fundamentally beyond religion, what's really driving me on a first principle level is human dignity. And the way I think about this is that
if a person comes to seek help and opens up to another person, that's a sacred moment
if a person comes to seek help and opens up to another person, that's a sacred moment. We need to honor that. We need to figure out a way that we can help each other come alive, because it's not just about creating purpose and meaning, but it's really to help each other come alive. And the therapist needs to come alive. The therapist needs to be alive and kicking and playful and to be able to ignite that. And the therapist also needs help and guidance from a supervisor. And for the supervisor to do that, the supervisor also needs to come alive. 
LR: I remember Bill Moyer’s interview with Joseph Campbell at George Lucas’ Skywalker Ranch. He said to Joseph Campbell, “So, you're saying that people are searching for the meaning of life?” And Campbell said, “No. People are searching for the experience of being alive.” How does that find its way into the world of supervision, that tripartite relationship between supervisor, supervisee, and client? Where does that element of being alive get infused in that three-level process? And whose responsibility is it?
DC: Sounds like a family.
LR: Yeah, doesn't it?
DC: Yeah. I think everybody is going to come into play. I think it is the interaction. It's this ecology of a systemic perspective that's going to be important. How does it come alive? You know, I think we need some kind of platform for this to work, which we have talked about. But I think it critical is to keep this conversation going. Once we see that therapists are working hard to improve in what they are doing—once they figure out the baseline, once they figure out what to work on based on the baseline, then they develop a system to help them do their practice on an ongoing basis. And that they see the payoff of what they're doing.

It's like your child who's worked hard for the math test and starts seeing see the result. There's the real payoff. I mean the whole temperature of the room changes. Their focus becomes more intrinsic. And at that point, the role of the guidance is going to evolve as well. There's always going to be state of change. You’re right when you pointed out that quote from Joseph Campbell as well. That's something I'm very familiar with, and I think it's important that we continue to keep the conversation alive within clinical supervision as well as at the level of the therapist and client. 

Fanning the Flames

LR: So, just as we encourage clinicians to take care of themselves and to grow and to rest and to seek meaning and a reason for being alive, so too must supervisors continually replenish and rest and grow and seek internal expansion, because if they wither, then the supervisee withers and the client withers. Who are the roots, and who are the leaves in this tree? It's a quite interconnected system.
DC: [chuckles] It is. It's just like our world now, isn't it? I mean I'm suddenly reminded about this teenager from Sweden that's really been striking me about what she's doing. I don't know if you follow the news about Greta Thunberg and how she's doing this protest about climate change and rallying a million teens around the world to protest about how the adults in this world had better take this seriously. And she's been going on global forums just speaking about this.

And I heard one of her speeches which she starts by saying, “Our house is on fire. What would you do if your house was on fire?” And she expands on that. And I think that's so important, that somebody her age is speaking about this. 
LR: So, supervisees must find ways to, in your words, reignite supervision. I have one last question. You were born in Singapore, you live and practice in Australia, and you've traveled the world doing training in therapy and supervision. What have you noticed about teaching and supervising cross-culturally?
DC:
I think the first thing that comes to my mind is how similar across culture we are in terms of helping people
I think the first thing that comes to my mind is how similar across culture we are in terms of helping people, trainings and our roles as therapists and supervisors. But, of course, each culture has its own subcultures that you're dealing with. But to me, really what's striking is how much similarity there is. We're all in the same boat.
LR: What do you mean, the same boat, Daryl?
DC: We're all struggling to get better. We all want to. I mean all therapists and all supervisors want to do a better job. And that propels us. That makes us stay hopeful. It makes us invest time, money and effort to go and do CPE [continuing professional development] activities. You know, we're all trying to get better. But what's implicitly underneath that wish to get better is worry. We do worry about, “Am I getting any better? Is what I'm doing really helping to translate?”

And people are asking this question as they are looking deep, long, and hard. And I think the onus is on us as a collective, as a field, to start to come together, to start to build this brick-by-brick, to help out from the therapist's level and the supervisor's level, and to help us build this house, build it up again, and to help us to get just that 1-2% better each step of the way. Because the payoff and the morale that comes with that is going to move us even further. 
LR: So, if everyone in that multilevel relationship strives to be a little bit better, then the whole system becomes better.
DC: That's right.
LR: If client outcome improves, then that goodwill is shared beyond the therapeutic space. If the supervisor is dedicated to practicing their craft, then they are in a better position to teach clinicians. And if clinicians practice deliberately, they are in a better position to help their client. And that is consistent across cultures.
DC: That's right. And, you know, I'm not the only one who is doing this, but I think I've started doing this whole thing about clinical supervision because I think we are a critical piece to the puzzle. And I think this one little story might help to illuminate this. You know, this gentleman, he knocks on his son's door, and he says, “Jamie, wake up, please. Wake up. You've got to get to school.”

Jamie then says, “I'm not going.” And the father says, “Why not?” He says, “Well, Dad, there are three reasons. First, school is so dull. And second, the kids tease me. And third, I hate school anyway.” And the father says, “Well, I'm going to give you three reasons why you must go to school. First, because it's your duty. And second, because you're 41 years old. And third, because you are the headmaster.”
LR: [laughs]
DC: I think we play that critical role. We do need to show up. And when we show up, we then need to think about what's our status quo and what's the one thing we need to start in order to refine our work to bring us alive again.
LR: To play that instrument a little better, to hit that tennis ball a little straighter, to run a little bit more efficiently. The supervisor must have a commitment to continued growth and development if the supervisee and the client are to improve.
DC: Yes, and I will say one last thing, if I may, Lawrence.
LR: Of course.
DC: If we use the musician analogy, I don't think it's to play the instrument a bit better.
LR: No?
DC: I think it's to play the instrument well enough but to be able to become better songwriters. I think that's a tougher job, because you can get technically better as a musician, but to write the next Hard Day's Night or Yesterday or Bohemian Rhapsody, I think that's a different skill. And I think we need to find a way to become better songwriters in our field.
LR: So, we can make better music together and because the audience is indeed listening.
DC: That's it.
LR: I think on that note, Daryl, I'm going to say goodbye, and on behalf of our readers, thank you so very much.
DC: Thank you.

How to Master the Art of Developing Your Therapeutic Voice

Becoming an Artist

Surrounded by a sea of attendees at Psychotherapy Networker’s annual conference, I waited to ask my hero the question that had been burning inside. One man, with an uncanny resemblance to Sigmund Freud, entranced us yet again with a story of the work we’d all been celebrating and emulating in our own offices for so many years. Our master clinician and storyteller, group therapy guru, and most importantly, the single most generous and open discloser of his clinical process, Irvin Yalom was reflecting on his lifetime contributions.

It was now our turn to ask him questions. “Dr. Yalom, you’ve shown us how to embrace the process, and as the poet Rilke advised, to: ‘be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves.’” Was I even talking into the microphone? The notes on my phone bounced out of focus, but I pressed on.

“Like jazz musicians, you’ve reminded us to enjoy the dissonances and savor the surprises we find within them. Can you talk about that, the role and importance of being an artist in our field?” I was grateful when he acknowledged that yes, he had thought of calling his book Letters to a Young Therapist after Rilke’s famous missives. “Even though I idolized so many, no, no, I never thought of myself as an artist. Even though I had wanted to be one, it wasn’t me!” It was like I had framed the wrong man. With him ready to quickly move on, I was stunned, stung, crestfallen. If Yalom couldn’t recognize being an artist, how could any of us?

Luckily for me — and us — Sue Johnson, the puckish British couples therapist and our evening’s interviewer, held him up a minute to take stock of his knee-jerk demurral. Wasn’t his work — its graceful storytelling and open embrace of the therapeutic process a testament to the power of our art to heal and enlarge? Was this any less artistic than the poet, musician, or actor’s craft?

Yalom’s initial objection ripened into delight on stage, and after the conference, in a private email, he thanked me, stating simply, “I’ll remember your comment for a very, very long time.” That’s what this essay is about: the artistry of our work and how we develop a therapeutic voice to help us get there. This is vital not only for ourselves and our supervisees, but even more so for our clients, who cultivate their own voice in the interplay with ours. Happily, there is ample scientific and empirical support for this artistic venture and cultivation of the voice, and I will use it to contextualize and illuminate our journey along the way.

Finding Our Voice

All artists — whether writers, musicians, or actors — must develop a voice, that hard-to-define yet distinctive style which runs like an invisible thread through their work, opening a space of creative possibility between their art and audience. As a supervisor of beginning therapists, I view this as essential, and liken it to the process we see on television each week on the show “The Voice.”

Just as Kelly Clarkson, Blake Shelton, and Adam Levine compassionately and thoughtfully mold, mentor, and inspire young talent, so too must we as supervisors help our beginning clinicians. Each has their own music and style they come in playing, and supervisors help them draw out their raw talent, experiment with new genres, and ultimately learn about how to make music that is, as Duke Ellington said, “beyond category.” This is therapy that transcends theoretical orientations, becoming a unique blend of the clinician’s theoretical and empirical knowledge, their personality, and emerging therapeutic repertoire.

There is a yin and yang here that, when in proper balance and harmony, lead to a fully developed artistic voice. This voice not only serves the therapist but promotes the opening and expansion of the patient’s own voice, becoming the driving force of creative therapeutic work. This also forms the basis for a lifetime of creating art. Yes, all of us therapists (veterans too!) do this daily, in the poetic and musical lines we shape in what others easily pass over as ordinary prose. Freud had it right from the beginning when he suggested, “When we can share that is poetry in the prose of life.”

Wouldn’t it be inspiring if all of us — beginning and veteran clinicians alike, supervisors and supervisees — could embrace the artistry of our everyday work? Wouldn’t it be illuminating if we had a working model of how to cultivate and deepen this?

Building a Voice

The model that I’ve arrived at is both simple yet expansive. A therapeutic voice is the combination and interplay of therapeutic presence and therapeutic authority, the complementary and seemingly contradictory elements that like yin and yang, enable us to create a three-dimensional picture of our patients and ourselves. Think of it like how our two eyes, each with their independent perspectives, magically create depth perception.

An ambitious supervisee recently confessed to me, “I have to anticipate everything before our session, and know exactly where I am taking my clients. I feel like a white-water rafting guide who’s one turn away from taking the whole crew down with me!”

This supervisee, like so many others, is proficient at being directive, setting goals, and moving quickly towards intervention. Unfortunately, they don’t offer enough room for the patient to openly explore and steep in their feelings or draw on the relational process to entertain new possibilities, which is why they so often feel up a creek without a paddle.

Therapeutic Presence

What they need more of is the yin of therapeutic voice, therapeutic presence — the capacity to be receptive, mindfully attentive, emotionally available, nonjudgmental and resonant with the client’s unfolding experience (1). Freud originated this concept in his earliest recommendation for practicing therapists in 1912, underscoring the vital importance of “evenly hovering attention.” Like a koan, the therapist should “simply listen and not bother about whether he is keeping anything in mind.”

Considered the foundation for tuning in to the patient’s unconscious, it provided a potent tool for opening one’s mind and heart to new possibilities for understanding and engaging the patient’s psyche. Like the Zen Buddhist notion of “beginner’s mind,” or mindfulness itself, therapeutic presence comes from the framework of “not knowing” in the service of creativity. To paraphrase the Nobel prize-winning poet Wislawa Szymborska, the point — like the poet’s main task — is to say I don’t know and keep on going. It’s to wonder aloud!

Therapeutically present therapists are understanding, open-minded, and comfortable with a range of different feelings and perspectives.These therapists have internalized Robert Frost’s prescient quip, “No surprise for the writer. No surprise for the reader!” Patients feel a sense of safety, trust, and warmth in their company. The space seems to open with them. This disarming quality makes it easy for patients to explore new subplots and turns in their stories. They find themselves surprised at how much they are saying and learning in just the telling itself.

Therapists who practice this kind of presence don’t have to know immediately and aren’t bothered by the ambiguity or complexity of what they are hearing; they “dwell in possibility,” as Emily Dickinson said, a “fairer house than prose.” They allow patients to be in the driver’s seat so that they can show them the territory first, and in so doing, instruct their therapist how to best be of service. This openness allows patients to take more risks in therapy, to deepen the exploration of their thoughts and feelings, and to get to genuinely enjoy the deeper waters of the psyche, even providing modeling for them to be more open to the various and contradictory sides of themselves! In short, to paraphrase Whitman, they are reminded that, “We are large. We contain multitudes!”

Owning A Voice

Plopping down in my office chair, and letting out a formidable sigh, another supervisee recently lamented: “Sometimes I feel like I’m taking it all in but then can’t get a word in edgewise, and I’m not even sure if what I’m thinking even makes sense. Am I really helping them at all, or are my own mixed-up feelings just getting in the way of making any headway?”

I know many fantastic supervisees who excel at being empathic, reflective, and thoughtful with their patients, but lack the confidence to make discriminating interpretations that take into account their valuable instincts and intuition regarding new creative possibilities.

These supervisees, understandably, worry that if they use too much of their authority, they will overwhelm or possibly hurt their clients.

They need more of the yang of the voice of therapeutic authority — which I define as the command of theory and technique and a discriminating awareness of how to put these into practice. It is the confidence to properly select, apply, time, and adjust one’s interventions in a multicultural and relationally sensitive manner (by relying on the yin of therapeutic presence, of course!).

The clinician with therapeutic authority is happy to show patients how to blaze a new trail and empower them to sort through the various aspects of their experience to find bigger patterns and new possibilities. Like an artist mentoring a new student, they can see the bigger and smaller picture and can help with the difficult passages encountered in putting new skills and pieces together. Most importantly, the therapist with a balanced dose of therapeutic authority knows how to do this with proper timing, tact and empathy. They are not going to break patients down like a military drill sergeant, but instead are going to be thoughtfully discriminating and penetrate deeper into problems and their implied solutions.

Supervisory Support

It is vital for supervisors to support beginning clinicians in developing their clinical intuition and instincts, the confident application of their theoretical and empirical knowledge, and a sense for having the “authority” to make therapeutic moves. Just as a singer needs to take risks with trying out new ways to expand their interpretation of a song, so too does the beginning clinician, and as supervisors, we are right behind them to encourage it!

Supervisors also need to model how to both be comfortable with and to chase the kind of not-knowing that makes creative therapeutic work possible. Like Yoda to Luke Skywalker, we help emerging clinicians to learn how to use “The Force,” showing them that, paradoxically, it is only by surrendering and letting go that we truly open the space for something new to emerge.

Just like our young poet needed Rilke to learn how to become an artist (and Rilke in turn was mentored by the great sculptor Auguste Rodin), so too do our beginning clinicians need us to illustrate how they can be balanced and integrated in their own unique therapeutic voice by uniting these two crucial faculties. And it turns out that all of us, no matter what level we are at, need to remember that we are always cultivating and expressing this artistry!

Empirically Supported Artistry

Art never needs more than its own justification, but as a scientist practitioner, you might need to be reminded of the scientific support for viewing therapy as an artistic enterprise. Look no further than Neuroscientist Antonio Damasio’s recent book, The Strange Order of Things, which eloquently showcases the way in which our “right-brained” feeling comes first, inspiring and motivating our greatest cultural innovations and products, and that joined together with the logic and language of our left-brains, becomes something truly extraordinary. Daniel Pink in In a Whole New Mind illustrates the 21st century’s cultural sea change from a left-brained leaning computer age, to a right-brained leaning conceptual age that integrates right and left to make the best of both worlds.

In my model, therapeutic presence is the right-brain dominant aspect of our therapeutic artistry, and therapeutic authority is the left-brain pilot, so to speak. Therapeutic presence is at once dreamlike and free-associative, holistic and big-picture, image and metaphor centered, and largely implicit and nonverbal. It undergirds the profound empathic connection between us and our patients, especially to those sides of our clients that have experienced trauma and yet still long for—even in secret — a more redemptive narrative.

Therapeutic authority flows from the language and logic-based sides of our brain with its highly developed executive functioning. More largely conscious and deliberate, this side enables us to zero in and edit the many clinical possibilities before us so that we can work with true specificity and discernment, tailoring our treatment for the unique person sitting across from us, and getting to the heart of the matter.

A 19th century poem by Frances Cornford sums up this lovely process best. Entitled “The Guitarist Tunes Up”, we learn that this musician leans into their instrument with ‘attentive courtesy’:

Not as a lordly conqueror who could

Command both wire and wood,

But as a man with a loved woman might,

Inquiring with delight

What slight essential things she had to say

Before they started, he and she, to play.

For a visual of this interplay, we can look to none other than that famous Renaissance man — Da Vinci and his iconic drawing of his Vitruvian Man. It is only by integrating the square of our logic with the circle of our feeling do we become something truly divine — artists in our own right.

Learning & Teaching from Art

If we are to find and develop a therapeutic voice, we must first look at how therapy itself connects to the arts and how, as supervisors and supervisees, we can attend to these important dimensions. We’ll look specifically to poetry and music as starting points.

Poetry Lessons

A poem, such as a sonnet, compresses a question or problem, its exploration, and a final statement of some revelation or new understanding into 14 lines. In Shakespeare’s famous sonnet, “Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” the speaker wrestles back and forth with how his love is and is not like summer. Initially, it seems very fitting to compare her to the beauty and splendor of the season, but upon further inspection, new ideas emerge. Among other things, she is much more constant, evenly tempered, reliable, and more lovely than the summer months.

Much like Shakespeare’s speaker, we wrestle with our initial diagnostic impressions of our patients: Shall I compare thee to a borderline personality, a depressive, or an adjustment disorder? It is not immediately clear, and so many of our first sessions entail testing out various hypotheses to determine who the patient is and is not.

As Shakespeare’s poem continues, surprises and new discoveries emerge and toward the final turn of the poem, the poet concludes that his love will be eternal as a result of the poetic act itself: “So long as men can breathe or eyes can see/so long lives this, and this gives life to thee.” This is the aim of a transformative therapeutic process. Much like a sonnet, by the end of the therapeutic experience, a patient will be able to make a few “turns” and come to a way of internalizing the therapeutic process so that it too will become eternal.

Music Lessons

Beethoven’s fifth symphony provides an immediately recognizable compressed musical idea. In only four notes, a focal theme is established that is explored, varied, and reharmonized much in the same way that occurs in therapy. The capacity of the therapist to articulate that melody — the dominant trend or relational pattern that pulls the various strands of a patient’s story together —goes very far in clarifying what has been troubling patients while it points them in the direction of how they can move forward. Much of the time, patients are playing the notes of their issues but are not aware of the melody and cannot synthesize it into a focal theme. They bring us their own invisible scores and hope we will give them feedback to recognize their own music.

About seven and a half minutes into the third movement of Rachmaninov’s Symphony in E minor, we hear the main theme played by the French horn, in the manner that a patient initially expresses when it is recognized by the counselor: “You hear me! This is the song I didn’t know I was singing.” Shortly after, the theme gets played by the violin with a melancholy poignancy: “I have been waiting a long time suffering with this alone.” This is the sense of sadness and mourning that the patient feels for having had to sequester this aspect of self in the service of protection and adaptation.

As the theme gets worked upon and elaborated, new instruments, such as the oboe and flute, come in to take on the line, with hope gathering. Calmer and with greater poise, a certain pride and expressiveness opens now that this very significant idea can be incorporated into the larger musical narrative of the patient’s story.

Let’s see how this artistry translates to a representative case and get a preview of putting all the pieces together.

A Case of You

I’ve named this “A Case of You” as a nod to Joni Mitchell’s heartbreakingly beautiful song because this patient seemed at first blush like she was too much to handle. Pretty quickly into our first session, I realized that, like for so many of our cases, the following lyrics truly applied:

“You’re in my blood, you’re my holy wine, you’re so bitter and so sweet, oh I could drink a case of you, and I’d still be on my feet!”

A student came to her intake appointment complaining that her friends did not understand her, that she couldn’t fathom why they were so turned off by the razor blade that she kept on her desk as a reminder that she could cut herself, and that she had been told to come to counseling many times, but it had never been helpful in the past. She asked, why should she bother now?

Previous counselors told her that she needed a higher level of care than they could provide, and those appointments left the student feeling misunderstood and blamed for troubles she could not fathom. She also felt a sense of hopelessness at not being able to make true contact, just as she had not with family and friends. Aiming right for the jugular, she also scoffed at me: “Counselors are incompetent and don’t really understand me. You probably won’t either!”

In addition to feeling interpersonally rejected on several fronts, as a first-generation college student, she experienced the pressure of well-meaning parents who hoped to see the family’s metaphorical stock rise with her success. At the same time, her family expected her to be at the ready when they called her to take care of her younger siblings. She was a painter who loved the darkest colors of her palette, with her works centering on Hopperesque misfits wandering in the night.

Initially, her cutting was a regular strategy to express and modulate her emotions, combined with a preoccupation with death, and the ways in which friends and other therapists had been repelled by her behavior made me wonder whether this student had borderline personality disorder. Like in Shakespeare’s poem, though, I was not sure whether this comparison truly fit.

Here we see the internal wrestling of therapeutic authority and presence. The first stab at therapeutic authority can have us all too quickly categorize or even pathologize what we are seeing before we get the full story. At the same time, this discriminating faculty provides crucial information that we really need to follow. Like a samurai warrior, psychologically speaking we need to forge the sword and learn how to use it appropriately. Toggling back and forth between this function and therapeutic presence — the open and receptive Buddha nature — allows us to see the big picture clearly while also focusing keenly on the supporting details that we need to assess and intervene incisively.

As I got to know more about the patient’s relational backdrop and leaned into my therapeutic presence, things looked a bit different. I learned about her parents’ difficulty tolerating fear, anger, and sadness, and their own struggles with managing chronically high levels of stress. I also learned about my client’s repeated experiences of the family being unable to acknowledge or stay with her emotional experience.

Just as the subject of the Shakespearian poem was no longer so much like the summer, it seemed more and more that she was no longer like a patient with a borderline organization and instead more like one with a neurotic organization or a possible adjustment disorder. She appeared to be in a conflict that could not be acknowledged squarely as she was in the midst of an important developmental transition, both issues coloring each other and placing her in an ever-tightening Gordian knot.

By trusting my therapeutic authority, a focal theme emerged. When this patient expressed negative emotions, people could not tolerate them and emotionally and physically abandoned her. This pattern was consistent with her emerging friendships — others were not interested in hanging out with her despite her charm and intelligence — and extended to her early family experience, in which her parents subjected her to the silent treatment for days whenever her emotions ran too hot. Taken together, the patient internalized a message that her emotions were problematic and disruptive and that they must be put aside and suppressed. In other words, they became “not-me” and funneled into the dissociative symptom of cutting.

Until I was able to home in on a focal theme, I, like the therapists before me, was part of the problem, imagining in my countertransference that it was the patient who had the major issue. Internally, I underestimated how much my feelings were part of an enactment, containing only a small piece of the story. Initially, I was bracing myself for difficult work, assuming that the student had a great deal of pathology and would make little movement. In a way, I was reenacting the dynamic of the student’s relational backdrop, finding her issues disruptive to my sense of authority just like her parents and her prior therapists had — “it is not me, it is her.” By maintaining a therapeutically present stance, I was able to observe this crucial dynamic and incorporate it into a new understanding and relationship with the client.

Therapeutic authority led me to a focal theme that helped me see that it was totally understandable for her to shy away from sharing her intense feelings and need to hide and express them in her not-so-secret ritual of cutting. She was protecting both myself and herself from “not-me” and letting the world know, with what seemed to be twisted pride, that cutting was her right and a very valuable part of her emotional life. Looking back on that detail now, it was very prescient in the way it encapsulated her attempt to express and independently resolve her bind.

Reading and Tracking Changes

Guided by a mindful application of therapeutic presence and a discriminating use of therapeutic authority, the student went through the kind of musical sequence referenced above. Initially, having a therapist who was able to respect and receive the fullness of her experience without mistreating or abandoning her by becoming critical or explosive or falling apart was a tremendous step toward a new relational experience. The recognition that her focal theme was understandable and heard enabled her to begin to speak of it without the kind of shame and dissociation that often accompanies a “not-me” experience. It also enabled her to begin to trust and hope again.

She became inwardly and outwardly relaxed so that she could begin to examine the many facets of her current and past experience and thus begin the riffing that is essential to the jazz improvisation that is therapy. In short, she began to find and develop her own voice as a patient!

The patient could view her behaviors as more comprehensible and expressive of the hidden conflicts she had been harboring and that had been left unformulated and disconnected. This expanding sense of self-compassion became an important antidote to her cutting behavior and provided an alternative avenue for exploring and containing her emotional experience. Interpersonally, she became less defensive and fearful of others abandoning her, having had a transformative set of experiences in which she felt the consistent presence of a reliable other. She began to show her pain not only in her words but in the artwork, she did as a painter.

When a poetic turn or musical theme has been established, shifts can immediately be seen in the patient and felt in the relationship. These can occur simply in the change of posture (often, a straightening of the back and sitting up in one’s chair), a richer tone of voice, a feeling of newfound connection and space in the therapeutic relationship, or in the spontaneity and flow of narrative or images that emerge in the therapeutic interplay

In the first session, trust was developed as the student began to see me as a figure who could understand and appreciate the depth of her pain and recognize the myriad ways in which she had been misjudged and pigeonholed by her family, friends and, most notably, other therapists. We also developed a focal theme centering on how this rejection led her to suppress and negate her important and precious feelings. Taken together, I believe that these turns led to decreased scores in hostility and emotional distress, each indicative of the fact that she was feeling more trusting, less defensive, and relieved at being able to begin to experience her emotions more directly.

These scores continued to remain significantly lower than baseline for the next few sessions, whereupon we worked on developing ways of shifting patterns in her relationships with friends and family. At around session five, the student’s depression scores started to decrease as she began to feel greater self-efficacy and agency in being able to affect change in her life inside and outside of the therapy space. Simultaneously, her levels of anxiety followed suit as they made a statistically significant drop from baseline in our final session of the semester. Our work together concretized the notion of making a more poetic and musical line in our therapeutic work, and the importance of drawing on artistic metaphors to inform treatment and expand both the therapist’s and the patient’s voice in that process.

A New Slant on Working Dynamically

We are very accustomed as clinicians to thinking vertically, troubling ourselves over quick diagnoses and assessments, especially given the limited time we often have. At some points, this may take away from focusing horizontally on the musical line and the movement of the intervention. In music, in order to play or sing a melody successfully, one needs to be as attentive to the horizontal motion of the notes carrying a melodic line forward as to the vertical axis of hitting the note itself.

In clinical practice, one can analogize the horizontal forward motion to the momentum of an intervention, the movement toward a new relational experience. The vertical playing of the note is the clinical equivalent of ensuring you understand the patient’s experience correctly and getting a proper diagnostic read. This horizontal motion is informed by therapeutic presence just as, conversely, the vertical movement is guided by therapeutic authority. Both are essential, and they need to be worked in concert to turn notes into music.

This musical way of approaching relational work helps us to be more efficient, fluid, and creative, focusing simultaneously on how to skillfully assess and intervene in our fast-paced culture. Moreover, it enables us to carry the themes of the patient’s past into new orchestrations and harmonizations in the present, providing a model for continued transformative possibilities in the future. Through this process, patients internalize working creatively with their own themes and then take us into new melodic and harmonic territory, stimulating further treatment progress and development. Taken together, this fosters a positive feedback loop in the creative matrix between patient and therapist, and from this synergy, transformative changes quickly follow. This is precisely what a well-tuned therapeutic voice does for the clinician and their client.

References

Cornfeld, F. D. (1965). Collected poems. Cresset Press.

Questions for Thought and Discussion

Who inspired you to find your voice?

What are some of the unique attributes of your therapeutic voice?

Which of your clients helped you to find your therapeutic voice?

In what ways do you compare psychotherapy to an art?

Jay Lappin on Family Therapy—The Long View

A Social Justice Lens

Lawrence Rubin: Good morning Jay and thanks for sharing your time with me. You’ve been practicing and teaching family therapy for several decades, in which time certain issues affecting families continue to remain relevant while other hotspot issues have gained prominence. May we start off by addressing some of these hotspot issues that family therapists need to address?
Jay Lappin: Sure. I think that one of the constants has been around social justice and poverty. We see the effects of the political decisions being made by different administrations and their changing priorities, including most recently around immigration. One of the things that I remember from my interview with Sal Minuchin a few years ago was him saying that, back in the day when we first started doing family therapy, we thought that they could change the world one family at a time. There was this thoughtful pause, and then he said, “We were wrong.” And that’s what got him into doing larger systems work, and myself as well.There are wonderful efforts by non-profits like The Annie E. Casey Foundation who are really taking this on, and it also still continues with family therapists who are doing home visits in impoverished communities which built on the early years of social work, and then on the work of Sal and others like Braulio Montalvo back in the ’60s. But we haven’t changed the world just yet.

LR: For the average family therapist who is not on the Southern border or who’s not in one of those areas where he or she is likely to see these families impacted by immigration policies or poverty, what guidance can you give them around working with families suffering social injustices?
JL: I think just being aware that social injustice exists, that there are commonalities among all families and their circumstances, but also as unique differences between families. That systemic perspective helps a lot. I just had a case involving a young man, a minority kid in a school system where there was a big incident. Because of my good fortune of working at the local clinic and being aware of the systemic issues, the line of questioning I used for the parent took a different turn. It was more of a talk about what the community was like and what it was like to be a minority family within a majority-culture town. And it really felt like things changed in the sense that there was space for that conversation. And I think that we can all make that space about those differences and be aware of them.
LR: There’s so much of a necessary push these days for therapists to become sensitive to and aware of diversity issues affecting individuals and, of course, families. So, is it our ethical obligation when working with, as you say, a minority family in a majority system, to bring in these social-justice issues, even if the family doesn’t address them? Is it our obligation?
JL: I think so, especially for those of us that are majority-culture folks. I know enough that I know that I don’t know enough about a minority family’s location in society. And I think to pretend that it’s not there is doing a disservice to the family and to the process of therapy. And, you know, the thing in systems work and all therapy is that you read the feedback. So, what happens when we open up the space for that conversation and what does it lead to and how does it change what we’re doing in the therapy? At the end of the day, they still want things to be better for their children, and that’s cross-cultural. I think we can do better when we create space to have those conversations.
LR: Do we expand a social-justice lens beyond culture and race when working with families these days? Are there other hot-button social-justice issues—you mentioned poverty—that we need to open the door to and invite into the family therapy space?
JL: Well, income differences. The vast majority of clients in my private practice, are majority-culture folks—middle-income and well-situated. The issues of social position, money and resources are still there, although on the other end of the spectrum. It’s all a part of the soup that we live in. I don’t see there’s any downside to working with these clients necessarily, but it’s very easy to get kind of a narrow lens just because that’s who’s in front of you.I remember a story Sal told me years ago during an interview. When he was young he had a psychology teacher who was a fan of Rousseau who made the case that delinquents were part of a larger system and the social institutions in which they lived. During the time that Sal was in high school, his family went from very good circumstances to losing pretty much everything as a result of the Depression. They lived in poverty. Sal’s story was about reminding ourselves how lucky we are, but also the obligation we have to all members of society. As family therapists, we must be open to conversations with families around the issues that are important to them, ones around which we may have little direct experience.

The Temptation of Sameness

LR: Clearly then, family therapists must be humble, aware and sensitive to the needs of minority-culture families. What about other hot-button issues like the breakdown or denuclearizing of families, and the newer ways that families are coming together—gay and single-parent, step, adoptive and foster families?
JL: I think one of the great things about being a family therapist is that you get to bear witness, to be a part of that change that you’re talking about. In family practice I see more and more of those denuclearized families that come in with different combinations. The classic ’50s Ozzie-and-Harriet family is changing and in a big way. But at the end of the day, they are all still families. They still love their children, and that crosses those old boundaries. We still have to do our jobs, but the context is shifting, and I think it gives us more possibilities, too, to think outside of the box.
LR: So, these new ways that families are coming together present challenges and opportunities for family therapists to expand their core skills? Are there specific ways that family therapists can expand to open up to these changing ways that families come together?
JL: Yes, I think that one of the ways that we get to do it is by working with different populations, because there is always the temptation of sameness. We do what we know. But, you know, there’s that old saying, “if you want to know about water, don’t ask a fish.” We can put ourselves in situations in which we feel different and that we experience other families. Home visits, I think, are a great way to do that. You can tell a lot about families, about how they live together, and it also stretches us a bit. I think both young and old therapists need to have an opportunity to do that. I think it helps our work and stretches us.
LR: Are you saying that the changes affecting families and the way that families are adapting to those changes is a clarion call to family therapists to dig deep, push hard, keep climbing learning curves and look for new ways to connect with new families, because each family that walks through your door is different?
JL: I think it’s all about difference. A picture is worth a thousand words because the picture is what the talk and the words are about. So, for example, Sue Johnson‘s work with attachment understands that talk therapy is necessary, but it’s not sufficient—it’s really about the enactment. It’s the felt experience of those different situations and pushing ourselves that challenges limiting patterns. You have your bag of tricks and you get reliant upon them, and, why? Because they work, after a fashion. So, it’s about taking a risk.And, that’s fair because it’s a risk for a family to come for treatment. Sal had this great saying that families are wrong about two things when they come to see us. First, they’re wrong about the location of the problem. It’s not the kid. He or she is an identified patient, so it’s the family system that’s the patient. And second, families are mistaken about is who is going to fix it. They look to us, but our position is that the inherent strengths are there in a family, that they have all these over-determined patterns, which is what brings them to us. So, I think, in this respect, we’re not asking any more of the families than we are of our ourselves, and I think that’s more fair.

LR: If Sal said that families come in with two errors in thinking, one is who the patient is, and the other is who will fix it; what might be some of the fundamental thinking errors that family therapists bring into their work?
JL: Oddly enough, the same two things. It’s a challenge. Family therapy can be tough, because you have all these people in a room. One of my early fatal mistakes with a family was when I thought I was being this wise, young guy that could figure stuff out quickly. It was a family I’d seen only 10 or 12 minutes in which the father was a plumber. So, I start spouting off—“blah, blah, blah, you should do this, you should do that” and the man turned to me and said, “How can you tell? You only met with us for a few minutes.” And because I was young and even more stupid than now, I said, “Oh, well, you’re a plumber.” And he said, “Yeah.” And I said, “How long does it take you to figure out that there’s a leak in the basement?” And the guy just looked at me with a lot of anger. I never saw the family again. So, either it was a one-session cure, or it was an abysmal failure. But I remember that I really hadn’t respected them. I hadn’t taken the time to join, and I was trying to be show-off. “Look how much I know.”So, I think it’s always the read-the-feedback thing, and we learn from the families as much as they learn from us.

An Alphabet of Skills

LR: Sal Minuchin taught you (and others) the importance of enactment, joining and challenging. How do you teach these fundamental skills to new family therapists who may be intimidated or challenged by a family?
JL: We came from an academic tradition where you teach theory, you teach theory, you teach theory, and then you practice. And Jay Haley had this great idea that you have people do things first and then retrospectively go back and say, okay, what happened? What happened when you turned to the mother and asked her to talk with the son? What was going on with you?So, it’s more that style of teaching where you’re consistent with the model of having people do things. When I teach, it’s lots of role plays, making up families. And then I have just some basic rules that I’ve come up with over the years, like thinking of joining as a traffic light—you have a red light, a yellow light, and a green light—and when you’re working with a family, you should always be in the yellow.

For instance, in New Jersey, you go through the yellow lights, and in South Philly, people don’t stop at stop signs. You kind of roll through the intersection. And I say if it’s green, that means it’s a bit too easy—Lyman Wynne had this expression of the rubber fence where you’re working with a family and you think, God, I’m really joined well, like it’s really the strength of homeostasis. So, green, not so good. Yellow, perfect.

But I’ll tell them if it’s a red light, you have to rejoin. So, if you’re trying to frame something or get an interaction going and you’re just getting that red light, then you say, okay, I need to reconnect, find another way to make this happen. It’s that constant reading of the feedback, and when you do role plays or approximations of families, then you can say, “What was that like when the family wasn’t with you on that? What happened? What did you come up with?”

And then you’ll go deeper with the students, and they can say, “Well, you know, it reminded me of this, where I felt this way.” So, okay, how are you going to shift that, because you’re going to be working with families. You’re going to have that capacity to be flexible. It’s like muscle memory almost, that you have to do it over and over again.

LR: You had said that Minuchin also taught you about the strategic use of self in the room. How important is this in the teaching and learning of family therapy?
JL: You probably don’t have it down in Florida, but here in New Jersey and Philadelphia, we have row homes which all look very similar from the outside. They’re each the same size and distance apart from each other, have the same foundations and the same layout. It’s like a rectangle. But when I used to do a lot of home visits, going from one person’s home to the next could be completely different. The next person’s home could even be on the very same block. So, that for me was a metaphor because my foundation is in systems work and structural theory, but the larger framework, what’s in the house and how they live, is up to the families.I think you have to just do it or it would be like reading about how to play guitar. That’s great if you already know that “A” has three sharps, but unless you’re playing it and having somebody saying to you, “What was that? Where were you going with that? What did you want to do? Let’s see if you can come up with another way,” you’re not going to improve your skill set. I lament the loss of one-way mirrors and taping. It doesn’t happen as frequently as it did back in the day.

LR: My experience has been that there are a lot of people out there doing family therapy, charging for family therapy, writing about family therapy, lecturing about family therapy, and they don’t seem to understand or really appreciate systems theory. They’re not students of the foundational theory that drives all models of family therapy. And I lament that. Do you see that as a problem?
JL: I remember talking to Sal and Braulio about this. They had this idea that you could have what is called an alphabet of skills. The idea was if you taught these skills, you could be a competent family therapist. And, indeed, many people did and are.But Sal said, that having an alphabet of skills is like teaching somebody the alphabet and then expecting that they can write sonnets. Like the idea of putting a room full of monkeys at typewriters who would type a Shakespeare play, by chance, after thousands of years. Having an alphabet of skills is necessary but not sufficient to practice competent family therapy. So, people need a bigger container. I think that what you’re talking about is having the systems foundation. It’s a deeper, bigger container to hold those ideas and to have the freedom to experiment. You’ve got to know where this stuff comes from, and I think it helps to have that foundation.

And I Got Dinner

LR: What are some of the personal and professional obstacles that family-therapy trainees need to overcome in order to eventually practice effectively as family therapists?
JL: I think first is finding an agency that values home-based family therapy. Back in the early days of clinic work, especially in the cities, you’d have people come for outpatient therapy, crowd the waiting rooms, and then you there’d be a large population of people that you could see.The shift to home-based family therapy, which, as you know, followed in the social-work tradition of doing work in people’s homes, changed things, so that people, especially poor families, didn’t necessarily have to get to a clinic. By going to people’s homes, you very quickly get a sense of what is happening. When I first went into private practice, I only had a handful of clients, so when I saw families, one of my requests was that they invite me for dinner. It was great, because, literally, within minutes, moments, you would have a whole set of new ideas. The theories I had about families when I went to the house was…

LR: Out the window.
JL: Right exactly. It was very humbling at times. And I’d have the kids show their rooms and their stuffed animals and their toys. And it was just such a rich environment, and then we’d have a family session after dinner. I got dinner.
LR: And they got therapy. And you did a hell of an intake by wandering through their rooms and sitting at their dinner table.
JL: Yeah, it was great. I think that the home-based work is really remarkable, and it’s a challenge. I remember being a research therapist on one of Duke Stanton’s projects with heroin addicts and their families. In those days, you’d have these massive cameras and tripods and all that stuff that you’d be lugging into people’s houses.So, in the middle of these intense moments, you’d think, oh, boy, this is really it, we’re going to tip the scales here. And then the dog would run through the scene or somebody’s diaper was wet, or the phone would ring. So, you would have all these multiple things happening at the same time, and you would have to figure workarounds. And you would really get a lived sense, an experienced sense. As opposed to talking about it, you were experiencing it.

LR: Clinicians and trainees attend workshops where clinicians show these wonderful, rarified clips from magnificent and timed interventions; but the reality is that families are messy. Families are complex. Families are chaotic. And maybe that’s one of the reasons why some people run from family therapy like the plague while others run to it. I wonder if there’s a difference in would-be family therapists regarding their tolerance for complexity, chaos, and ambiguity.
JL: Yeah, you’re right. It could be very chaotic at times, noisy…I just think it’s such a privilege to see the family in total, because when you see the kids individually—and, certainly, there’s a place for that in the context of family work—it’s not the same. You get so much more if you can see the whole family. For me family work is the best, and one would hope, even from those rarified clips, that people get excited about it and want to do it.
LR: I’m a child therapist, a play therapist, and I always say to my trainees that when you see a kid, they’re going to bring their family along with them. You have to be open to inviting the family in. So, is child therapy, by necessity, family therapy.
JL: There was a recent piece in The Inquirer about a Yale study on children that were anxious. The bottom line of the study was that they figured out that one of the principal causes of the kid’s anxiety was the parents. And I thought, are you kidding me?

Appy Hour

LR: What a surprise!
JL: So, their treatment model was having the parents figure out ways to help the children tolerate anxiety so that they were no longer hovering or helicoptering. And, really, when you think about it, it’s more of a systemic version, but it’s under the heading of teaching the kids.Years ago at the clinic where I worked there was research on pain. This fellow Sam Scott, who was one of my supervisors, a brilliant guy, had studied some with Erickson. Sam and Ken Covelman and Bruce Buchanan, who was my partner in teaching at the clinic, were working with families to develop ways to have kids who were experiencing extreme pain through psychosomatic and physical illnesses, get calmer.

Sam and the crew had developed this wonderful script that accounted for systemic interactions between the parents and the kids. The parent would say, “What we’re going to be working on today is helping you to feel more relaxed.” And then, in parentheses, the parent would have something that they would read to themselves that would say something to the effect of, “And while helping my child to relax, I want to breathe more slowly and thoughtfully.”

Just inserting that spacing or that timing helped the kids and the parents simultaneously to relax, which is different from the kind of individualized mindfulness training where you’re just teaching a kid how to relax. The back and forth accounted for the relational context.

I was teaching a family therapy course a few years ago at Penn and Drexel, and I realized that there were no students in the class that were as old as our youngest child, and I thought, “Oh, God, I am so ancient.” So,I created this thing called Appy Hour. At the beginning of class, the students would present apps that were helpful in teaching relaxation skills. It’s corny, but it was great, because they were all about finding these very cool apps. And if I see a kid individually, I’ll have the kid teach the parent how to relax and show what they learned on an app. As you were saying earlier, having that systems foundation just helps you think differently in a situation.

LR: So, whether you’re working with an adult, a husband, a wife, a lover or a child, you can work with any individual within a family, and as long as you are thinking and acting systemically, you’re helping everybody. You’re not targeting one person, even though one person may be the person that you’re working with.
JL: Yeah, there was a really good, two-part CD that Alan Cooklin and folks from England put together, and I had the privilege of interviewing Braulio Montalvo for it. I asked, “What are some of the seminal ideas about Minuchin?” This tape is called “Inviting the Family Dance.” Braulio said, really, the most important thing for him was Sal’s idea about part to whole. When you’re working with part of the system, you always keep the whole system in view, no matter who is in the room. If you have the kid, a parent or both parents, you’re always thinking of the whole system as kind of a backdrop. So, it’s reflected in having a kid learn an app and then teaching it to his parents or teaching it to her brother, moving from that idea of part to whole.

Tango with Me

LR: You’re engaging and empowering the whole family. In the linear world of individual psychotherapy, the push is toward evidence-based practice and manualized treatments. Has this push been part of the story of family therapy?
JL: I think, historically, one of the reasons that family therapy is around today is because, in its early years, family therapists took on the challenging populations—eating disorders, schizophrenia, delinquency, minorities—ones that for a lot of reasons resided at the margins of the prevalent psychodynamic and psychoanalytic models of the day. It was as if family therapy was being told, “Fine, do what you will—see if you can do better! And boy, did they. For Structural Family Therapy (SFT), the challenge to the status quo began in the Sixties at the Wiltwyck School for Boys in New York. Minuchin, Montalvo and others frustrated by the poor outcome with individual treatment decided, “This isn’t working—we have to do something different…”With support from an NIMH grant, Structural Family Therapy researched the development of a family/systems-based model with poor, minority delinquents and their families. Their research and the early bones of SFT were published in the 1967, Families of the Slums. Absent the internet, there was tremendous synergy and cross pollination—Minuchin making his way out to MRI and meeting Bateson, Haley, Don Jackson; Murray Bowen doing his work with schizophrenics; Whitaker’s developing his Experiential model; Satir’s Conjoint Family Therapy published in 1964. It was as if a whole new language and culture were sprouting up, rules were broken, the one way mirror and the capacity to videotape changed everything. And, like Gil Scott-Heron said, “the revolution will be televised,” and it never stopped.

LR: Along related lines, is manualized intervention antithetical to family therapy?
JL: I think there is a place for manualized care. Ultimately, I think that every therapist has to make their treatment their own. Sal would talk about the family dance, a “Tango.” Sue Johnson also has embraced tango dancing as a metaphor. And there’s some of us who are old enough to remember Arthur Murray’s Dance Studios where they would have the feet painted on the floor.

The Long View

LR: Steps! Actual, certain, steps that are important to take, but also instilling the importance of the therapist bringing their own person and adapting to constant changes. You know, “Dancing with Arthur Murray,” that would be a good family therapy article.Jay, you’ve mentioned in our phone conversation and in this in this interview about your relationship with aging. How has this relationship with aging played into your work as a family therapist?

JL: I think it’s made me more appreciative and humble, and grateful for the work. It’s the best job ever, really, when you think about how lucky we are to be part of people’s lives. And I think being a parent and being married for 48 years has given me perspective that I didn’t have when I was younger and new to family therapy.I think the aging process, being married a long time, having kids and grandchildren, the good fortune of amazing supervisors, mentors, students and clients, alongside experiencing painful losses of family, friends and clients, all of it gives you a certain perspective. Also, reading the Persian poet Rumi and Thich Nhat Hahn’s wisdom has slowly but surely shaped my appreciation of time and impermanence. I really value those present moments with families and with couples and individuals. I just continue to pinch myself about how lucky I am to be able to have that, and that people invite me into their lives to help them, and I do the best I can.

LR: How has this appreciation found its way into your clinical work with families?
JL: Someone I see experienced a profound loss of a child. All of my own family-of-origin issues played out alongside the experiences of this particular family. My youngest brother was 5 when he died of leukemia, and it had a profound impact on my family. Our oldest son, after he graduated college, came down with non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and he’s fine, and I’ve had malignant melanoma.Years and years ago, Sal and Pat Minuchin used to host these summer events at the end of the externship. People would come to the clinic for training from all over the world and Sal would host barbecues and there’d be teaching and learning. I was sitting in a group of students, and he was going around asking them about their families and their kids and so forth. He skipped me and went to somebody else. Afterwards, I said, “Sal, I know that you asked everybody about their families, but you skipped me. How come?” He said, “Because you don’t have any children yet.” And then he said, “It makes a difference.” When you live that experience, your perspective, for better or for worse, changes. Of course, he was right.

Once you have children, once you’ve experienced those kinds of losses, how can it not affect your worldview?

I think I’ve been more appreciative of that, and I think that shows in the way that I still challenge overdetermined patterns in the family, and challenge the ideas people have about themselves and always assume a strength-based model. It’s the therapist’s responsibility to come up with a context for those different slices, or, as Dick Schwartz would say, those parts of themselves that can be more manifest in a room, and then to recognize them when they happen.

Forrest Gump Meets Jay Haley

LR: You’ve jokingly referred to yourself as the Forrest Gump of family therapy. It’s a great metaphor, since you’ve had these incidental but powerful moments with the likes of Sal Minuchin, Carl Whitaker, Paul Riley, Braulio Montalvo, Marianne Walters and Barbara Bryant-Forbes. But you also have to be a Forrest Gump in your clients’ lives in order to be fully engaged with them at their own pivotal points.
JL: Larry, did I tell you the story of how I became a family therapist? My Jay Haley story? It’s to your point of being Forrest Gump and just being aware. In 1972, my wife and I got married on September 2nd, and I was drafted into the Army on September the 20th. I was very lucky that one of the nice things that Nixon did, if we can say that, is that he said only people that volunteer to go to Vietnam would go to Vietnam. So, I thought, okay, I’ll take my shingle, you know, shovel shit for the next few years, at least I’m not going to ‘Nam.So, I got out of being sent, and through a series of, again, Forrest Gump-like events, I wound up in Fort Gordon, Georgia and was assigned to work in the Mental Hygiene in the stockade and in the maximum-security block. I was seeing prisoners and thinking, “I have no idea what the heck I’m doing with these guys.” I was sitting in cells smoking, 26 cents a pack, how could you not smoke, and thinking, “Shit, I’m really lost here.”

So, I went to our psychiatrist, who was a man by the name of Art Warwick, who looked like—even then, Alan Dershowitz, who smoked a pipe. He had kind of fuzzy hair and wire-rimmed glasses, a brilliant guy. And I said, “Art, I’m lost with this stuff about how to see these guys.” I said, “Is there anything I can read to help me be a therapist, because I have to counsel these guys?” So, he’s smoking a pipe in a very cliché psychiatrist way and he puffed a few and said, “Get Strategies of Psychotherapy by Jay Haley.”

So, I sent away for it and the thing finally arrived and I started reading about Haley and Erickson and I just thought it was incredible. I wanted to do this kind of therapy.

The years went by and lo and behold, I wound up working in Philadelphia Child Guidance Clinic. I meet Jay Haley, and my head was like a dirigible because I couldn’t believe I was getting to work at that clinic. So, Art and I stayed in touch. I went to see him and we were sitting drinking beers, and talking about Army days, and I said, “Art, by the way, when you recommended Strategies of Psychotherapy to me, is that because you saw me as a good, strategic, structural family therapist?”

So, Art had this shit-faced grin on. He was smoking a pipe again. He kind of looked at me and said, “No.” I said, “No? how come,” and he said, “Well, your name is Jay and Jay Haley’s name is Jay and I thought it was kind of funny.”

Parting Words

LR: That’s your illustrious, effing origin story! You are Forrest Gump, Jay.Would you offer some parting words for the people who are going to read this interview, whether they are brand-new family therapists, graduate students, seasoned therapists, or old horses like yourself? If you had to condense your wisdom into some Salvador Minuchin-esque type of statement that people will be quoting 50 years from now? No pressure though, no pressure.

JL: Yes. Sal was a poet, as was Braulio. I think I would say, do family therapy—it’s the best job you’ll ever have. And whatever job you have after that, it will help you. It will help you with the people that you serve. It’ll help your family. It’ll help your children. There’s no aspect of your life that it won’t touch, and in a good way. And it’s a gift, and you’ll say your thanks for it.
LR: You had me at hello, Jay. I really want to thank you for sharing your stories, your wisdom, your decades of experience, and I anticipate many more wonderful stories.
JL: Thank you, Larry.

Seven Mistakes in Clinical Supervision and How to Avoid Them

Clinical supervision is the “signature pedagogy” of choice in psychotherapy (1). I’ve benefited a great deal from the lessons of my supervisors. Some of their words from a decade ago not only still echo but have become first principles I keep close in my own clinical and supervisory work and teaching. Most of us regard clinical supervision as highly integral to our professional development. It’s hard to imagine not having someone to turn to for case consultation and guidance, especially when stuck in a rut and not making expected or desired progress with a particular client.

Supervision and Clinical Impact

Given the benefit we often feel from clinical supervision, the logical next question to ask is whether clinical supervision actually translates into meaningful impact on our client’s wellbeing? About 8 years ago, Edward Watkins Jr., a researcher from the University of North Texas, conducted a review of 18 empirical studies that examined the impact of supervision on client outcomes. Based on the big picture analysis, Watkins said “…the collective data appears to shed little new light on the matter. We do not seem to be able to say anything new now, (as opposed to 30 years ago), that psychotherapy supervision contributes to client outcomes.” (2)

More recently, a team of researchers set out to investigate this question based on a large five-year dataset comprising 6521 clients seen in naturalistic settings by 175 therapists and guided by 23 clinical supervisors (3). Not only did factors such as supervisors’ experience level, profession (social work vs. psychology), and qualifications not predict differences between supervisors, the role of clinical supervisors explained less than 1% of the variance in client outcomes. Said in another way, and contrary to expectations, clinical supervision as we know it has little to no significant impact on improved outcomes in the lives of our client’s lives.

Taken together, we may very well feel the benefit from clinical supervision, but it doesn’t seem to translate into improved clinical outcomes.

Rethinking Clinical Supervision

This begs the question. Why is clinical supervision not translating to actual improvement of client outcomes? Given that we invest so much time and effort in our “signature pedagogy,” perhaps we need to rethink our current practices in supervision. Drawing from the existing psychotherapy evidence and the development of expertise literature outside of our field (4), here are seven supervisory mistakes I see us making, along with speculation on how these relate to apparent clinical stalemate:

1. Too Much Theory Talk

2. Pat-on-the-Back

3. Lack of Monitoring Client Progress

4. Lack of Monitoring Engagement Level in Supervision

5. Not Analyzing the Game

6. Overemphasis on the Self and Neglecting the Impact on Client

7. Lack of Focus on Therapist’s Learning Objectives

8. Too Much Theory-Talk

Often, the clinical supervision encounter revolves around cases discussion, case formulation and theorizing about the clinical pathology. This fits under the umbrella of clinical conceptual knowledge and does not actually delve into moment-by-moment interactional patterns that unfold in a therapy hour. We often end up waxing lyrical on how a case may be conceptualized in a psychodynamic framework or in an emotion focused or from a CBT perspective. Not only does this disembody the conversational nature of reality in therapy, we assume that the key is to obtain a thorough case formulation of the problem at hand. In 1939, Carl Rogers aptly pointed out, “…A full knowledge of psychiatric and psychological information, with a brilliant intellect capable of applying this knowledge, is of itself no guarantee of therapeutic skill.” (5)

2. Pat-on-the-Back

In my work with supervisors and therapists, I often hear this chant, “…But your client still comes back to see you right?” In actuality, a small percentage of clients (~10%) account for the largest percentage (~60-70%) of behavioral health care expenditures, showing a continued use of services without successful outcomes (6).

While it is vital to take care of the supervisee’s sense of self, what feels good doesn’t equate to what helps us grow. About a third of our clients continue therapy without experiencing reliable improvement in their well-being. If we continue to bolster their esteem with praises or consolations without helping them identify their growth edge and improve the outcomes of “stuck” cases, we are doing our therapists and clients a disservice.

3. Lack of Monitoring Client Progress

We therapists are an optimistic bunch. In the absence of real-time monitoring of outcomes and engagement, session-by-session, we fail to detect deterioration and dropouts. A groundswell of studies now show that the use of measures such as a real-time feedback tool not only reduces deterioration in client well-being by a third, but cuts drop-out by half, and as much as doubles the overall effectiveness of therapy (7). Even when we use routine outcome monitoring devices, like the Outcome Rating Scale (ORS) & Session Rating Scale (SRS), Outcome Questionnaire (OQ-45),or Clinical Outcome Routine Evaluation-Outcome Measure (CORE-OM),we fail to meaningfully integrate this into the supervisory process. We stick to using the measures as an assessment tool, and not as a conversational tool.

4. Lack of Monitoring Engagement Level in Supervision

For those of you who are already using routine outcome measures as a source of feedback, you know that it’s hard for clients to give feedback to the therapist. It’s also hard, if not harder, for a supervisee to provide feedback about the engagement levels in supervision — especially if the supervisor is a colleague.

The reality is, supervisors have a tough enough job of ensuring that their input has a ripple effect not only on the therapist, but also on their clients. Having some kind of formal procedure to elicit what’s been working for the learner can help the process of focus. In addition, given that supervisors and supervisees might have overlapping roles or collegial bonds outside of supervision, having a formalized feedback procedure in supervision allows for both parties to take a pit stop and address issues in real time — not 6 months down the road when it’s too late — that might be brushed aside.

5. Not Analyzing the Game

In any other domain of performance (e.g., sports, music), if one were to seek a coach’s help in improving their game, it would be unheard of for the performer not to analyze her performance. Yet, in the field of psychotherapy, we do less of examining the moment-by- moment dynamics of the therapy hour and more theorizing (see point #1). Most supervisors do not use the practice of watching snippets-segments of the video recording highlighting specific areas that the therapist can work on.

Much like other fields (music, sports), it’s important to record sessions in order to receive feedback about actual performance rather than feedback about a perceived or reported performance. Feedback is useful when it’s based on a well-defined objective, observables, and specifics.

6. Overemphasis on the Self and Neglecting the Impact on Client

You may not agree with this point, but there is an over-emphasis on the self of the therapist at the expense of impact on the client. Too much supervisory time is spent on superfluous issues such patting the supervisee on the back (see # 2), while not enough time is spent on using real-time progress monitoring to guide the conversation (see #3).

7. Lack of Focus on Therapist’s Learning Objectives

Finally, I would argue that there is a lack of focus on the therapist’s learning objectives. This is one of the four tenets in deliberate practice (8). (Stay tuned as we will cover this in future blog posts). This may be the most vital yet lacking element in a practitioner’s professional development. Too often, we engage in clinical supervision on a case-by-case basis, with no coherent thread weaving in the therapist’s learning needs and clinical case concerns. Even when we do so, there is often a lack of systematic tracking of the supervisee’s development. As useful as client feedback is to clinical practice — spotting anything glaring or missing and pointing out if the session is on-track or not — this does not help therapists improve on their therapeutic skill, based on the developmental stage of their profession.

Consider another example: A top musical performer does not benefit from the feedback of the crowd (the decibels of the audience’s applause, the verbal comments about the performance, etc.), as much as the nuanced and specific feedback they might receive from their maestro or producer.

***

In the upcoming blog posts, I will cover each of the seven points raised about the flaws in our default ways in clinical supervision, and I will provide specific pathways out for each of them.

References

(1) Watkins, C. E. (2010). Psychotherapy Supervision Since 1909: Some Friendly Observations About its First Century. Journal of Contemporary Psychotherapy, 1-11

(2) Watkins, C. E. (2011). Does Psychotherapy Supervision Contribute to Patient Outcomes? Considering Thirty Years of Research. The Clinical Supervisor, 30(2), 235-256.

(3) Tony G. Rousmaniere, Joshua K. Swift, Robbie Babins-Wagner, Jason L. Whipple & Sandy Berzins (2014): Supervisor variance in psychotherapy outcome in routine practice, Psychotherapy Research, 26(2), 196-205.

(4) A. Ericsson, K. A., Hoffman, R., Kozbelt, A., & Williams, A. (Eds.). (2018). The Cambridge Handbook of Expertise and Expert Performance (2 ed.). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. B. Ericsson, A., & Pool, R. (2016). Peak: Secrets from the new science of expertise. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt.

Miller, S. D., Hubble, M., & Chow, (2020). Better Results: Using Deliberate Practice to Improve Therapeutic Effectiveness. American Psychological Association.

(5) Carl Rogers, 1939, p. 284 The Clinical Treatment of the Problem Child.

(6) Lambert, M. J., Whipple, J. L., Hawkins, E. J., Vermeersch, D. A., Nielsen, S. L., & Smart, D. W. (2003). Is It Time for Clinicians to Routinely Track Patient Outcome? A Meta-Analysis. Clinical Psychology: Science and Practice, 10(3), 288-301.

(7) Schuckard, E., Miller, S. D., & Hubble, M. A. (2017). Feedback-informed treatment: Historical and empirical foundations. Prescott, David S [Ed]; Maeschalck, Cynthia L [Ed]; Miller, Scott D [Ed] (2017) Feedback-informed treatment in clinical practice: Reaching for excellence (pp 13-35) x, 368 pp Washington, DC, US: American Psychological Association; US, 13-35.

(8) Chow, D. (2017). The practice and the practical: Pushing your clinical performance to the next level. In D. S. Prescott, C. L. Maeschalck, & S. D. Miller (Eds.), Feedback-informed treatment in clinical practice: Reaching for excellence (pp. 323-355). American Psychological Association.

Questions for Thought and Discussion

What kind of clinical supervision do you value and why?

Which of the author’s seven mistakes have you or do you currently engage in?

What have you done recently to improve the quality of your clinical skills?

What style of supervision do you practice, or would like to practice?

Working with Teens: The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

“I never set out to work with teens.” For many years after I started my private practice, people would ask, “what is your specialty?” and I would demure. I thought it was pretentious to say I’m a “specialist.” I didn’t feel like a “specialist.” I also thought it would be boring if I specialized. I wanted to mix it up (a little ADHD?). But I soon found myself gravitating to adolescents and young adults, and them to me. Given my years of training in family therapy, it started to feel natural that I would work with this population, those not-quite-children but not-quite-adult people who most therapists feared. And then I had two teen girls of my own; one now 20. What better breeding ground for insight could there be, I thought. Boy, or should I say girl, was I wrong!

Girls Will Be Girls

A therapist can no more easily treat herself and her family than a doctor can heal herself. As far as I can tell, my own family problems stem back generations. Mark Wolynn’s recent book called, It Didn’t Start with You: How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle lends some credence to this assertion. Jewish-check, anxiety-check, narcissism-check, mental illness-check. And the list goes on!

“I sought to correct all that with my girls. Clearly, I overreached.” Not only did it not help to hold myself to exacting, unrealistic and perfectionistic standards; it was in fact, impossible. Fast forward to last weekend, my girls now 20 and 17, fistfighting (I kid you not) over a sweatshirt.

My sense of failure runs deep but I am thankful that I was blessed with pure luck with these two. My insights are largely useless. My husband, however, excels at mediation (he’s a lawyer after all), and he has filled in the missing pieces on numerous occasions. We make a good team. Nevertheless, my girls have taught me a number of key things:

1. Each kid is different.
2. They teach you.
3. The “0-60” phenomenon of the teen brain is alive and well.
4. Use humor.
5. Be strong. If you are emotionally weak, they will have no one to push against, leading to a failure to launch.
6. No matter the age and stage, be patient. As soon as you master it, it changes.

Mary and her Parents

There are some cases that make me feel like a complete idiot. Take the case of Mary. She never wanted to be there. My first tenet of teen therapy is that they have to own it. It’s their life. If I am doing all the work, something is wrong. It took me a long time to realize this one. It’s great to get them when they’re young enough to change but old enough to understand, which I’d put at 17– a beautiful age! Raring to go to college yet clinging at will to parents, kids this age are a pleasure to help. Change comes fast and furiously and if you’re lucky you’ll get hugs in there too! They go off bolstered by the therapy, and they don’t come back. On the other hand, if they are there against their will it’s a different story. We know this. No therapy is going to work by force.

Mary had a history of acting out and strict, somewhat eccentric parents who did not understand her difficulties (see “Far from the Tree” by Andrew Solomon). With this mismatch, things got off to a miserable start. She was returning from a multi-thousand-dollar wilderness program of questionable long-term repute. “Please fix her from here,” her parents dumped on me. And so I did, sort of. She continued awful acting out, rages, mood-swings, and long before I knew it there was a team of professionals all over the case. No problem. We continued to integrate her back to home. But the back-to-family part never happened. You see, the parents were the problem. This is hardly uncommon. Now they were avoiding me. They were done. I tried to explain to no avail that their participation would be key. More avoidance. So, we continued weekly until the girl simply said “this entire enterprise is futile. I give up.” What a sad case indeed when parents induce helplessness in their teens. Where will all her energy go, I wondered sadly. The case had fizzled out before my eyes. After questioning my abilities, I concluded that this was case was doomed from the start. Her only channel was anger and that wasn’t a channel I was on. Thankfully there was group therapy to warm the soul and I gladly referred her to the care of another clinician.

Group Therapy with Teens

Witness however, Cecilia. Her case was the best! Coming from a childhood of unspeakable trauma, she was rescued by a relative and set on another course. When she came to group therapy, she was literally an outcast from school, home and family. The group embraced her. She lit up each week. In my group there are no restrictions except on gossiping and phone use. I actually pretend that I am the most casual and chill person on earth so that they talk as freely as possible. It’s like when you’re driving your kids to the mall and they’re in the back seat, with no eye contact, finally telling you the most important thing they ever shared. That is my posture in the group. The more I lay back, the more they seem to talk. These kids have no other avenue to ask questions about sex, drugs, birth control, family, siblings, mental illness, physical issues, sexism, racism and relationships. They even accept academic support from me. I become like a big sister in the group, and it works. Cecilia grew to become her class president. She vented for a solid two years about her childhood. She was made to feel normal. She heard from other kids of all backgrounds. They all became “normal” together- normalized by the group process. Who doesn’t have a crazy mother/father/sibling/uncle/friend/teacher? My god, they were normal! Just the celebration of that became the group creed. We welcomed newcomers with near joy. Parents waiting outside would never have believed it. Their angst-filled, moody, belligerent offspring had finally shed their shells. I almost never told anyone my secret. Do you want to know the secret to teen group therapy? Pretend you’re not there, do not wince at disgusting revelations about sex, and by all means allow cursing of all stripes and colors.

As the “core group” began to solidify I worried if I was being effective and compulsively tried to “deepen” the conversation. As I began to relax, they were able to tell me that they liked the group just the way it was. Just talking, venting, sharing and taking turns. It soon became clear that my need to control and get it right and my own insecurities still plaguing me after all these years of experience were beside the point. The group had sustained itself. Nevertheless, the interventions I made aimed to reinforce the shared group values and purpose, the universal nature of the teenager experience and the shepherding of the inner self to the surface despite fear. I also increasingly pushed the more reticent members to link up their past with their present, thus gaining insight for the first time. Finally, I was “motherly” in that I could see from where I sat that life would ultimately deal them their share of traumas, yet I knew they could withstand it by holding that space for them, quieting down my own thoughts. By testing their judgment or lack thereof with their peers, they gained the self-knowledge to withstand pain rather than avoid it.

Teens and Divorce

Parents have often asked me what the best/worst age for a child to be at the time of divorce. There are many answers to this. First off, it depends not only on the age at divorce but rather on how the parents handle the divorce that really matters. Second, all ages suck, period, end of story. But divorce in the teen years royally sucks. Social/emotional development is significantly impacted. What the research says is not pretty: not only does the effect of divorce on teens have a huge impact for years, but also, it lasts forever and ever. The researcher Judith Wallerstein has asserted that unlike a parent’s death which has a beginning, middle and end, divorce just goes on and on. Once again, the teen brain, volatile as it is, is not prepared and will surely rebound with rage, defiance, profound risk behavior, testing limits and all the things you tried as a teen but on steroids (social media strikes again). So, buckle your seatbelts on this one and seek help early and often.

“One of my teen clients of divorce casually sent a nude photo to a boy in 10th grade”. The next day, it traveled around the school with the speed of rumor and she found herself in the hospital dealing with a new diagnosis- humiliation. With one parent working round the clock and the other nowhere to be found, she did what anyone in that situation would do, she went underground. The numbing, cutting and sheer embarrassment got worse. She started cutting school too. Each setback snowballed mercilessly. We had to get her back to herself. The therapy consisted of gradually starting her activities again, putting it behind her and structured-only phone use. To this day, she calls me every year on my birthday and says, “if it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead.” She is now a successful hairdresser hoping to open her very own shop. Her parents’ divorce was the hardest step from teen to adult, but she got by because she persisted, used her strengths and had a passion.

Older teens feel lost, insecure and socially stigmatized after divorce. The post-divorce financial uncertainty adds to the overall stress. College plans can change. One divorce created a situation with the parents telling their twins in my office, “surprise, we can no longer pay…” Plus, shuttling between two homes can be disorienting, to say the least (or in the case of my own parents’ divorce, jetting between two coasts). Parents often dwell on how and when to tell their children that they are getting divorced, rather than the aftermath. Just like birth plans, divorce plans go awry. Better to sort it out for the long-haul than have it scripted in the short.

I try to help the teens in therapy by “joining” with their rage. Damn straight your parents suck. They are the ones who should be here! Once I do that, and establish trust, rapport and confidentiality, it is easy to win their hearts and minds. I provide gentle support and strategies for coping and self-care while reminding parents that part of the confusion is normal teen angst. If parents make the common error of ascribing all behavior to the divorce, then guilt steps in and over-compensates in many forms including the of throwing money at the child, which rarely helps.

More times than not, my job is to mitigate confusion. You cannot believe what’s in these kids’ heads. For younger kids, they go right to the most concrete –will my room be pink at Mom’s house still? Can I have two stuffed animals-one for each house? If my parents separate, will I ever see dad again? Are my grandparents still going to be my grandparents? For teenagers and young adults, it can be far more morose, as it was for me with my own parents’ divorce. “Why why why?” is one refrain. The other is a lurking sense of doom some might call dysthymia. As soon as I labeled that for myself as an adult, I started to get help, including antidepressants. The clinicians’ definition of the word would be a “low-grade depression.” I call it, the lowering of expectations, always second-guessing myself. Demystifying the wild ideas kids and teens formulate goes a long way toward alleviating crippling anxiety and dread. It’s hard enough to grow up without constant stress in this world, let alone have your parents fighting all the time. One family was fighting so badly about the kids’ shoes at each house that I offered to go to Payless and buy them a second set of sneakers.

I now run a successful teen support group for kids between the ages of 13-19. I remember how my losses haunted me at that stage, but I never had the words to feel and let go–I was constantly grasping for meaning or truth that didn’t exist. I tortured myself to figure something out about my family. But all that I got in return were meaningless intellectual insights that couldn’t sustain me. Nevertheless, I did rebound. I got many degrees and certificates, had scores of talented friends and married the love of my life. Economic times have since hit us hard, but our fortitude is paramount. “I model this resilience to my patients through gentle wit, disclosing when necessary that I “get it.”” Then reminding them there is no one path; there is no perfect; there is only you, open to the ups and downs, or as my yoga teacher would say, “meeting each moment as a friend.”

It All Adds Up

A perfect case to illustrate when all cylinders are firing in teen therapy is Megan. This teen came in with what I call the “break up story.” Megan, like many other girls with whom I have worked, was a ruminator. So, the task is how to utilize all the teen’s strengths just to make it to another day. Why? The phone (you didn’t think I would forget the social media part, did you?). Because I was an “early adopter” of the internet age and even worked in the field of online production and community building in its heyday, I have always taken a favorable view of technology. That said, if my daughter doesn’t unwrap her phone from her head soon I’m going to throw it into the Hudson River. It is her permanent appendage. There is no doubt in my mind that she would benefit from a screen break. But instead of being that mom who limited screen time, I was actually the mom who was the first on the block to get the kids a phone. That did not make me popular among the neighborhood parents. I prefer to know where they are. On the other hand, I have friends who have their adult kids on “find my friends” which would literally put me in a full-time state of panic. There must be balance.

Megan started cutting in 9th grade because she already had a family history of poor emotional regulation combined with an awkward style and no real avenues for getting her feelings straight. Her father was absent and alcoholic. Her mother was a determined and high functioning administrator who was always on the brink of a breakdown, and who could blame her? Therefore, Megan was accustomed to caretaking not care-receiving, which she desperately needed. In therapy, she was able to use her intellect and motivation for good. I encouraged her to think of things in a less catastrophic/dramatic, black and white and exaggerated way. “My boyfriend friended his ex on Twitter” she would say. “So what!” I would chime. “I’m stalking him. I see he’s online at 3am. I saw him with her. She liked his status.” It goes on. Yes, this goes to his character of questionable trustworthiness. But does it REALLY matter? Growing up in the 70’s and 80’s has made me a bit cynical to what real love is (memories of Kramer versus Kramer dance through my brain). I try to get them from point A- everything matters, to point B- nothing matters. “The therapeutic technique most attuned to this might be called Freud-light”. What is getting in your way of allowing this process to work? What is coming up as a trigger/resistance? What can we work through/process/vent/feel/release/analyze or simply let go of to move forward? Nevertheless, the point is the phone doesn’t matter! What matters is can he be at the right place at the right time, can he talk and communicate, can you be friends first and foremost, do you even know him, can he get off his phone…? Megan started putting herself first. She got into the college of her choice. A big girl with body-image issues, she bought herself the shiniest red prom dress I have ever seen and danced right through to morning!

What’s my Theory?

Lest you think that I’m just flying by the seat of my pants, there is plenty of theory to support my approaches. I rely on several methods and philosophies, yet I’m not married to one. I lean toward mind/body (Van Der Kolk, Levine), existential, person-centered (Rogers) and family systems (Haley, Minuchin, Bowen), and group (Yalom.) Much of my work is based on the idea that anyone can relieve anxiety by allowing it to flow through you. Just like going to the gym, anxiety is a habit of mind that if practiced will be reinforced. It’s the faulty circuit of fight or flight. It’s the mammalian brain. The goal (CBT and DBT) is to allow yourself to practice a better way of coping. A way with ease and equanimity; a way with kindness and support. A middle way, a way that allows you to press the pause button while you cool off. Getting flooded by one’s emotions is useless, so learning CBT (“I’m a mess and everything is a mess” to “I made a mistake; humans make mistakes and learn from them” makes good sense.” With DBT, “let me calm down for a second–getting worked up is totally unproductive. I’m just going to breathe and let it pass,” you will most likely get results. What I have not done more of until recent years is appreciate the role of trauma in that it can completely derail or retard the above process to the point of paralysis.

Lessons Learned

Therapists may turn away from working with teens because of their volatility and the resultant risks involved in their care. They flake out of appointments, come late, walk out, don’t return calls, and show up high and hungover. Their parents are often difficult, defensive and in denial. Sessions have to be coordinated with who can drive when, a logistical nightmare from volleyball to work to therapy and back all after a parent has put in a full day’s work. In short, it’s a pain in the butt. Nevertheless, teens are fast learners, quick to laugh out loud, they can cry their hearts out one week and the next week show up like nothing happened. They leave you with all the debris while they move on. My kids started doing this in daycare. Sobbing when I left, then an hour later, having the time of their lives. You simply can’t take it all personally. This takes a concentrated effort on the part of you, the therapist and mom, to feel as deeply and sensitively as they do, and then drop the whole damn thing. Only time can teach you that.

What it has taken me my whole adult life to learn is that there is no absolute answer. There is no one truth. There is no lasting stability. There is only you, open to the shattering of reality, embracing the change; knowing that change is the only constant. My history of loss/resilience/loss makes my therapy genuine. My genuine interest in teens, my blessed gifts from my parents, and my profound belief in being curious is what helps the therapy. It’s the turbulence, the roller-coaster, the deep pain and sorrow, and even the helpless confusion that instructs me how to remain flexible, less anxious, more prepared and physically more resilient (Yoga!). I still crave stability, but I have learned to create it for myself both inside and outside of the therapy office.

The $5 Snake Phobia Cure

On my way to the airport recently my Lyft driver asked my wife and me what we do for a living, so I told him that we produce training videos for mental health professionals. Sometimes that’s a conversation stopper; people say something like “oh, interesting….” and the banter trails off. But he didn’t miss a beat and told me he had seen a psychologist for three sessions, but the therapist said very little, and he stopped going. I thought to myself, “oh no, another client with a sub-optimal experience with a too-passive therapist.” Although he was quite chatty, I didn’t feel we had enough “Lyft alliance” for me to inquire about the reason for his consultation, but he then relayed a related story.

He told me he had experienced a severe snake phobia, so much so that he couldn’t even look at a picture of a snake. He also had a fear of being alone (join the club, I thought). One day he was with a friend in a touristy area, and spotted a man with a large snake around his neck, offering the general public the privilege of sporting his snake in a photo pose for a mere $5. Before his pre-frontal cortex was able to chart out a course on Google maps to his Broca’s area to articulate that this wasn’t a business proposition he was interested in, his friend snatched the snake and put it around his neck, and snapped a few photos.

Somehow this quick action threw a monkey wrench into his previously established phobic narrative, and he found himself touching the snake and liking the experience. Voila, phobia cured in a few seconds for only $5!

This reminded me of an interview I did a few years ago with the legendary Albert Bandura at Stanford, where he relayed to me his studies using systematic densensitization to quickly and effectively cure snake phobics. When I first heard about this, I thought “so what?”—I’d been in private practice for many years, treated hundreds of clients, and didn’t recall a single one complaining of a snake phobia, or any other phobia for that matter. But Bandura explained that the folks in his study were in some cases really handicapped by their phobia, for example: plumbers who were afraid to crawl under a house because of their fear. And so eliminating the fear really did have profound ripple effects in their lives.

Such was the case with the unnamed Lyft driver. He told us that this instant success at curing his snake phobia gave him confidence in other matters. He realized that the fear was all in his head, and that suddenly other fears lost their potency. His fear of being alone, for example: he realized it’s not such a terrible thing. This gave him the courage to walk away from a lousy relationship with his girlfriend, and he reported being happily single.

I’m not much a behaviorist, but examples such as this further convince me that it’s just plain silly to limit your “interventions” to whatever school or orientation you align yourself with. I know, I know…others will argue that fidelity to a specific model is important. I respectfully disagree. Success breeds success. If our Lyft driver can conquer one fear and this has ripple effects throughout his life, more power to him. He got great treatment for 5 bucks!
 

Reflections on Evolution of Psychotherapy 2017

Hard to believe, but it's been 22 years since I set up a small booth at The Evolution of Psychotherapy Conference in 1995 in Las Vegas, peddling my first videotape (yes, VHS) Existential-Humanistic Psychotherapy in Action featuring James Bugental, a teacher of mine who happened to be one of the presenters. At that time the Evolution folks (namely Jeff Zeig, director of the Milton H. Erickson Foundation, which puts on the conferences) was kind enough to contact the other faculty members, and ask them if they had any videotapes to sell, so I ended up having a small collection at my booth. Plus I managed to obtain some copies of my father’s video series on group psychotherapy. I ran an ad in the program, plain text, nothing fancy, which I recall started with this headline: “Yalom. Bugental. You’ve seen them here; now take them home.”

Honestly, I had no plans to start a business at all, I just wanted to sell some of the Bugental videos I had produced to make back my production costs. But we had an overwhelmingly positive response to our videos, and as is often the case, a business was inadvertently born.

Flash forward 22 years, and the Evolution of Psychotherapy Conference is still the event in our field. December’s conference had over 7000 attendees from over 50 countries. Initially every 5 years, then 4, and now the next one will be 3 years from now in 2020, it has been referred to as the Woodstock of Psychotherapy Conference, if you’re old enough to get that reference. Most of the presenters are….in fact sadly many of the granddaddies of the field (and a few of the grand dames) that presented at prior conferences are no longer with us (Rogers, Satir, Whitaker, Bowen, May, Haley, Ellis, Bugental, Lowen, Gendlin, and most recently Minuchin, just to name a few).

Still, many of the same faces and names were presenting, although some are really getting up there in years; Otto Kernberg, Erving Polster, Irvin Yalom and Aaron Beck are some that we hope will be back next time—but based on actuarial tables, we just can’t count on it. Plus there are some representatives from the relatively newer generation of therapists: Sue Johnson, Steven Hayes, Judith Beck and others.

A couple of thoughts: The title of conference, The Evolution of Psychotherapy implies we are evolving as a field. Sometimes I wonder. Given the total lack of family therapists from the current crop (a striking contrast from the early Evolution conferences), this would add evidence to what we all know, which is that family therapy is in serious decline. Suddenly it’s all about the brain…but we wouldn’t have a brain without families, just for starters. And as the attachment folks like Sue Johnson point out, without close connections the brain surely wouldn’t do too well at all (think Harlow’s monkeys). Are we really evolving as a field, or are we just coming up with acronyms for new branded therapies?

There was a greater number of female speakers in this year’s conference than the first conference in 1985, although they were still the minority—although the attendees were overwhelmingly female—eyeballing it I’d say well over 80%. I’m not sure that’s an entirely positive development, and unfortunately I think partly reflects the economic challenges in our field—and now another example of women being overrepresented in lower paying professions (at least compared to other professions requiring comparable education and training). Although women are typically the nurturers in our society, we need men who are compassionate and empathic as healers as well. And as for minorities…I count two in the roster: Derald Wing Sue, and Patricia Arredondo, both of whom were there to speak on multicultural issues in therapy. It will be nice when one day therapists of color are there to speak on issues other than how to do therapy with people of color. I think this says much more about our field and society than this particular conference.

Jeff Zeig and his crew know how to put on a show like no one else in our field. The energy and excitement at Evolution conferences is contagious, and one leaves with feelings comparable to ending a stimulating voyage, or theater festival, or 17 course dinner (not that I’ve partaken): filled, stimulated, tired and rejuvenated at the same time. Looking forward to 2020. If you haven’t been to a previous Evolution conference, mark this on your calendars. Based on actuarial tables, I should be there again.

Becoming Myself: A Psychiatrist’s Memoir

Editor's Note: The following is excerpted from Becoming Myself: A Psychiatrist's Memoir by Irvin Yalom. Published by Basic Books © 2017. Reprinted by permission of the publisher.


Chapter One, The Birth of Empathy


I awake from my dream at 3 a.m., weeping into my pillow. Moving quietly, so as not to disturb Marilyn, I slip out of bed and into the bathroom, dry my eyes, and follow the directions I have given to my patients for fifty years: close your eyes, replay your dream in your mind, and write down what you have seen.

I am about ten, perhaps eleven. I am biking down a long hill only a short distance from home. I see a girl named Alice sitting on her front porch. She seems a bit older than me and is attractive even though her face is covered with red spots. I call out to her as I bike by, “Hello, Measles.”

Suddenly a man, exceedingly large and frightening, stands in front of my bicycle and brings me to a stop by grabbing my handlebars. Somehow I know that this is Alice’s father.

He calls out to me: “Hey, you, whatever your name is. Think for a minute—if you can think—and answer this question. Think about what you just said to my daughter and tell me one thing: How did that make Alice feel?”

I am too terrified to answer.

“Cummon, answer me. You’re Bloomingdale’s kid [My father’s grocery store was named Bloomingdale Market and many customers thought our name was Bloomingdale] and I bet you’re a smart Jew. So go ahead, guess what Alice feels when you say that.”

I tremble. I am speechless with fear.

“All right, all right. Calm down. I’ll make it simple. Just tell me this: Do your words to Alice make her feel good about herself or bad about herself?”

All I can do is mumble, “I dunno.”

“Can’t think straight, eh? Well, I’m gonna help you think. Suppose I looked at you and picked some bad feature about you and comment on it every time I see you?” He peers at me very closely. “A little snot in your nose, eh? How about ‘snotty’? Your left ear is bigger than your right. Supposed I say, ‘Hey, “fat ear”’ every time I see you? Or how about ‘Jew Boy’? Yeah, how about that? How would you like that?”

I realize in the dream that this is not the first time I have biked by this house, that I’ve been doing this same thing day after day, riding by and calling out to Alice with the same words, trying to initiate a conversation, trying to make friends. And each time I shouted, “Hey, Measles,” I was hurting her, insulting her. I am horrified—at the harm I’ve done, all these times, and at the fact that I could’ve been so blind to it.

When her father finishes with me, Alice walks down the porch stairs and says in a soft voice, “Do you want to come up and play?” She glances at her father. He nods.

“I feel so awful,” I answer. “I feel ashamed, so ashamed. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t . . . ”


Since early adolescence, I’ve always read myself to sleep, and for the past two weeks I have been reading a book called Our Better Angels by Steven Pinker. Tonight, before the dream, I had read a chapter on the rise of empathy during the Enlightenment, and how the rise of the novel, particularly British epistolary novels like Clarissa and Pamela, may have played a role in decreasing violence and cruelty by helping us to experience the world from another’s viewpoint. I turned out the lights about midnight, and a few hours later I awoke from my nightmare about Alice.

After calming myself, I return to bed, but lie awake for a long time thinking how remarkable it was that this primeval abscess, this sealed pocket of guilt now seventy-three years old, has suddenly burst. In my waking life, I recall now, I had indeed bicycled past Alice’s house as a twelve-year-old, calling out “Hey, Measles,” in some brutish, painfully unempathic effort to get her attention. Her father had never confronted me, but as I lie here in bed at age eighty-five, recovering from this nightmare, I can imagine how it must have felt to her, and the damage I might have done. Forgive me, Alice.

***

Chapter Three, I want Her Gone

I have a patient, Rose, who lately had been talking mostly about her relationship with her adolescent daughter, her only child. Rose was close to giving up on her daughter, who had enthusiasm only for alcohol, sex, and the company of other dissipated teenagers.


In the past Rose had explored her own failings as a mother and wife, her many infidelities, her abandoning the family several years ago for another man and then returning a couple of years later when the affair had run its course. Rose had been a heavy smoker and had developed crippling advanced emphysema, but, even so, she had for the past several years tried hard to atone for her behavior and devoted herself anew to her daughter. Yet nothing worked. I strongly advocated family therapy, but the daughter refused, and now Rose had reached her breaking point: every coughing fit and every visit to her pulmonary doctor reminded her that her days were limited. She wanted only relief: “I want her gone,” she told me. She was counting the days until her daughter would graduate from high school and leave home—for college, a job, anything. She no longer cared which path her daughter would take. Over and again she whispered to herself and to me: “I want her gone.”

I do all I can in my practice to bring families together, to heal rifts between siblings and between children and parents. But I had grown fatigued in my work with Rose and lost all hope for this family. In past sessions I had tried to anticipate her future if she cut her daughter off. Would she not feel guilty and lonely? But that was all to no avail, and now time was running out: I knew that Rose did not have long to live. After referring her daughter to an excellent therapist, I now attended only to Rose and felt entirely on her side. More than once she said, “Three more months till she graduates from high school. And then she is out. I want her gone. I want her gone.” I began to hope she would get her wish.

As I took my bicycle ride later that day, I silently repeated Rose’s words—“I want her gone. I want her gone”—and before long I was thinking of my mother, seeing the world through her eyes, perhaps for the very first time. I imagined her thinking and saying similar words about me. And now that I thought about it, I recalled no maternal dirges when I finally and permanently left home for medical school in Boston. I recalled the farewell scene: my mother on the front step of the house waving goodbye as I drove away in my fully packed Chevrolet, and then, when I vanished from view, stepping inside. I imagine her closing the front door and exhaling deeply. Then, two or three minutes later, she stands erect, smiles broadly, and invites my father to join her in a jubilant “Hava Nagila” dance.

Yes, my mother had good reason to feel relieved when I, at twenty-two, left home for good. I was a disturber of the peace. She never had a positive word for me, and I returned the favor. As I coast down a long hill on my bicycle, my mind drifts back to the night when I was fourteen and my father, then age forty-six, awoke in the night with severe chest pain. In those days, doctors made home visits, and my mother quickly called our family doctor, Dr. Manchester. In the quiet of the night, we three—my father, my mother, and I—waited anxiously for the doctor to arrive. (My sister, Jean, seven years older, had already left home for college.)

Whenever my mother was distraught, she reverted to primitive thinking: if something bad happened, there must be someone to blame. And that someone was me. More than once that evening, as my father writhed with pain, she screamed at me, “You—you killed him!” She let me know that my unruliness, my disrespect, my disruption of the household—all of this—had done him in.

Years later, when on the analytic couch, my description of this event resulted in a rare, momentary outburst of tenderness from Olive Smith, my ultraorthodox psychoanalyst. She clucked her tongue, tsk, tsk, leaned toward me, and said, “How awful. How terrible that must have been for you.” She was a rigid training analyst in a rigid institute that valued interpretation as the singular effective action of the analyst. Of her thoughtful, dense, and carefully worded interpretations, I remember not a one. But her reaching out to me at that time, in that warm manner—that I cherish even now, almost sixty years later.

“You killed him, you killed him.” I can still hear my mother’s shrill voice. I remember cowering, paralyzed with fear and with fury. I wanted to scream back, “He’s not dead! Shut up, you idiot.” She kept wiping my father’s brow and kissing his head as I sat on the floor curled up in a corner until, finally, finally, about 3 a.m., I heard Dr. Manchester’s big Buick crunching the autumn leaves in the street and I flew downstairs, three steps at a time, to open the door. I liked Dr. Manchester very much, and the familiar sight of his large round smiling face dissolved my panic. He put his hand on my head, tousled my hair, reassured my mother, gave my father an injection (probably morphine), held his stethoscope to my father’s chest, and then let me listen as he said, “See, Sonny, it’s ticking away, strong and regular as a clock. Not to worry. He’s going to be all right.”

That night I witnessed my father drawing close to death, felt, as never before, my mother’s volcanic rage, and made a self-protective decision to shut the door on her. I had to get out of this family. For the next two to three years I barely spoke to her—we lived like strangers in the same house. And, most of all, I recall my deep, expansive relief at Dr. Manchester’s entrance into our home. No one had ever given me such a gift. Then and there I decided to be like him. I would be a doctor and pass on to others the comfort he had offered me.

My father gradually recovered, and though he had chest pain thereafter with almost any exertion, even walking a single block, and immediately reached for his nitroglycerin and swallowed a tablet, he lived another twenty-three years. My father was a gentle, generous man whose only fault, I believed, was his lack of courage in standing up to my mother. My relationship with my mother was an open sore all my life, and yet, paradoxically, it is her image that passes through my mind almost every day. I see her face: she is never at peace, never smiling, never happy. She was an intelligent woman, and though she worked hard every day of her life, she was entirely unfulfilled and rarely uttered a pleasant, positive thought. But today, on my bicycle rides, I think about her in a different way: I think of how little pleasure I must have given her while we lived together. I am grateful I became a kinder son in later years.

Psychotherapy “Terminations” and Beyond

Often when I “terminate” with a client (what a horrendous term for the conclusion of a meaningful human encounter) I let them know that I don’t see therapy as some kind of permanent cure to the concerns that brought them in to see me. At best it offers some meaningful relief, and some expanded awareness and resources that they may draw on when they inevitably face future challenges.

I usually tell them I’d be happy to be of help in the future, whether seeing them again, or referring them to a colleague, often adding that I’d be delighted to hear from them with any update on how things are going for them. 95% of the time I never hear back, but of course certain clients run through my mind at various time. I may walk by a building that a client had done the architectural plans for. Or I am riding my bike, and I remember their joy in a bike tour they once took in New Mexico. Or a client springs into my mind for no apparent reason at all, and I wonder whether their marriage—that I had some role shepherding them into—gave them the love and sense of safety they craved.

And then there are those clients that I mark down on my inner scorecard as failures. Yes, I might have given them some support, maybe I helped marginally change the trajectory of their lives, but I felt that somehow I just couldn’t help them break through to achieve the types of changes that they desired—or I desired for them. How were they doing? Were they still as depressed as when we parted ways? Or worse…had they given up entirely? Committed suicide?

I notice that I hesitate before I type the word “suicide” as if somehow that reflects poorly on me that I’d even have this worry. Why the hesitation? Is it that I should be omnipotent, and never have clients, or even former clients that might commit suicide? Or is it that I shouldn’t admit that clients occupy my thoughts even years after I stop seeing them? Has the pernicious concept of therapeutic “neutrality”—one that we thought started and ended with psychoanalysis—become so rooted in our profession that we carry it with us without awareness? As if it’s wrong to care about our clients as actual human beings, as individuals!

There is one specific client that I do worry about from time to time—yes, worry whether he did decide to put an end to his tormented life—but I was somewhat reassured recently when I ran into a colleague at a conference whom I had entirely forgotten was the original referral source. She knew the client personally, and related to me that he was still alive, although still very much struggling day to day, but that she was grateful for the help I provided her friend. Given my feeling of failure with him, I was pleasantly surprised that my efforts were appreciated.

Just a few days ago I got an email out of the blue from a client I’ll call Penelope whom I saw several years ago. She said she just wanted to say hi, thank me for the help I had provided, and let me know that things were going well for her. She was a classical musician who was starting to achieve some success in her highly competitive field, and for the first time in a stable relationship.

I recall that the course of therapy was not an easy one—for the client, as well as for me. We all have our own tricks of the trade, some we like to think of as our own, or at least ones we’ve customized to fit our own personality. I like to work in the “here-and-now” when I can, drawing attention to how the two of us are engaging, with the idea that this will shed light on the client’s interpersonal relationships. Of course this is not a proprietary technique—I learned a great deal about this from my father—but I like to think that I have achieved some mastery in this.

In this case it failed repeatedly: Every time I asked Penelope how she was feeling towards me, she bristled, got angry, and didn’t see how this was relevant to her issues. I recall various responses on my part. One time I made an impassioned plea, relating her difficulty in trusting me to problems she was experiencing with a friend or co-worker. Or I would try to push back, again in the here-and-now, saying something like “I really sense that when I ask you how you feel towards me, it hits some sort of nerve for you. Can you tell me what is triggered?” Again, this got nowhere fast. Finally, I took this prized technique and stuffed it back in my toolbox where it belonged. Was that a failure? Or a brilliant realization that there is no one-size-fits-all in this work?

My memory is a bit hazy, but I recall we worked on and off for a year or so. I don't remember exactly how things ended, but it certainly wasn't one of those Hollywood therapy endings where her neurotic puzzle was solved, and I was left with a warm glow that I had performed my craft with precision. So thank you Penelope for being one of the 5% who let me know what has happened in your life. I go on faith that most of those I work with have some lasting benefits from our work, but it’s sure nice to hear it from you.

* * * * *

That was going to be the end of my musings, so I sent this piece to Penelope to make sure she felt comfortable with me publishing this (even though identifying details are changed). She wrote the following:

“I think that even though it made me pretty mad when you asked me how I was feeling towards you, I realize now that I was mad because that’s what I needed to work on. It took me a few more years to not get mad when people asked me stuff like that, but once I got more comfortable having conversations like that it was a lot easier for me to have close relationships.”

Wow! If I had known at the time that my apparent misfires would ultimately yield results, it would certainly have reduced my anxiety during the therapy. Would that have made me a better therapist? Perhaps not. Uncertainty is inherent to the process, and something we need to learn to live with. But how heartwarming it is to know now that my efforts with Penelope planted some seeds that are now blooming.

Wisdom from a Customer

One of the joys of running Psychotherapy.net is my interactions with customers. But of all the correspondence I’ve had over the years, this a recent exchange has been perhaps the most intriguing. It began with this email describing our videos:

Good evening Victor,

I have enjoyed the almost freakishness of Albert Ellis telling it like it is, he was a man to be respected by the way he wanted the patient to come clean, and at the same time to be true. "I know what it ails you. Why are you not moving on? Why is this keeping you stuck?"

Mr. [Ernest] Rossi's presentation on physiological phenomena explaining deeper alignment within our bodies may be scientifically right. Yet, he appears to be a loose cannon in the therapeutic healing profession. I probably will never know what he knows when he stood up with the peripatetic albeit Arizonian healers like Milton Erickson. The trailing effect that I can appreciate from Mr. Rossi is his unquenchable desire to find what the truth of personhood means and yet, he does not persuade me.

James Bugental spun a fantastic thread of reality in his appreciation of the human misery. I appreciate his candor, and soulfulness, No one can be sitting down without knowing this man was with you.

I thought the old psychotherapy videos were helpful to see what it is going on with the world. Your father [Irvin Yalom] has explored that conundrum, and has provided some telling answers about man and his/her destiny.

Otto Kenberg is a studious, logical man prone to make assessments of a given type of person and qualify it as we qualify blue from red….I thought he is imbibed with the old psychotherapy lingo and forgot to see the everyday person. I was lost when his Germanic approach took over the healing process. Somehow.

I did not like the videos about the "proper" way to handle patients in a hospital setting. It felt prosaic.

Victor, I like the way you interview giants. You are polite but not entirely swayed by their philosophical, therapeutic views. It seems to me that you want to know what works, and what does not. Therefore, you are in my good books.

Manuel

This was followed the next day by another email:

More feedback.

I found the Torontonian's videos (even though they use actors) more akin to principled truth. I did like them.

I have not seen a video that tells me really how to operate in a psychotherapeutic setting yet. Maybe it is because we cannot really ascertain a typical process and therefore, the videos are just a guideline as to how the novice interpreter can fathom the whole story developing in front of him.

I would like to see the failures of therapists rather than the enhanced recognition of a university degree. I want to know what the key words are, and what moves a real person to state their present problem. And I want to see the masters in action.

How the hell can you prescribe a reasonable note in the person you are seeing? How do you get this person to move on their own volition? Therapy must acquiesce to praxis.

Respectfully,

Manuel.

Who was this Manuel? His writing was incisive and eloquent, and yet seemingly from another era. I would have written him back regardless, but my burning curiosity prompted me to respond immediately, offering some genuine words of praise for his observations.

He responded in kind:

Greetings Victor from Burnaby, British Columbia, Canada.

I felt so honoured by your reply; it literally made my day.

(I am of course not immune to flattery; but I am on guard, as when I hear similar words, I often discover that the other party thinks they are corresponding with the other Yalom.)

He went on to tell me a bit about his family, concluding as follows:

So you must know that I am truly blessed with kids who can think on their own despite the pressure I have exerted upon them. Good kind of pressure though, to not only shoot for the stars, but to admire mystery in life as it presents itself. All these things coming from a Honduran guy who thinks the greatest person is always one who is able to not only to stand back, but to turn around to listen and to hear the whole spectrum of fascinating details.

I, on the other hand, have not a university degree but I have held a reverent penchant for good books. We do not have money, but we do have some 400 good books from language to psychotherapy.

I am though, a salesperson who has had over 20 different positions from a machine printer to manager. I am currently working selling expensive area rugs, carpets and all that. When I see this rich person coming to our store, for some reason, I do no think of them as “customers” but someone who is materially or emotionally trying to add class or more than decor to their homes. I have been able to impress on some of them subtlety in choices. Like the "Grey Woman" who came in asking for wild colours in an area rug. I knew she wore a grey suit, grey shoes, and grey purse. Even a grey car! But she was insistent she was ready for change, “something wild,” she said. This was not an encounter about price, but about lifestyle choices. She bought the wild colourful area rug and returned it a few days after. I wish I could have been more perceptive and offer a gradation in grey, but missed it. I sometimes feel the best gradation for therapy begins with the understanding that it is not so much about the style, but the caring.

Thank you Manuel. My encounter with you has made my day, and my week as well!