Supporting Recently Traumatized Youth in a Crisis of Dissociation and Self-Harm

Case Background

Samantha, a 15-year-old African American young woman, was referred for psychotherapy by the hospital where she was taken after she was gang-raped while passed out at a party after drinking more than she ever had. This is Samantha’s first ever outpatient psychotherapy session, and she finds herself experiencing disorienting and, at times, overwhelming waves of depression and hopelessness as well as dissociative fugue states. Trying to calm herself, Samantha also finds herself involuntarily scratching at her arm and sucking her thumb, both of which give her a comforting sense of emotional and physical numbness.

Samantha’s friends describe her as a beautiful, kind, and honest person with a great sense of humor, an A student, and a star athlete. Samantha attends an exclusive private high school on scholarship; there, she is one of very few students of color. Her dream is to get a scholarship to an Ivy League university. When not studying or on the lacrosse field, she volunteers to help children and families in need in the community and for human rights causes. Older boys have frequently asked Samantha out, but she has never agreed because her parents are strict about dating and don’t want her to get entangled in a romantic relationship and lose her focus on college.  

Samantha’s family lives in urban public housing, where drug abuse and community violence are common occurrences. When she was 10 years old, Samantha witnessed her older brother, Andre, get shot and killed. He was walking her home from school, and they were caught in the crossfire of a gang fight. At the time, she didn’t understand what had happened when he suddenly fell down and blood was all over the sidewalk around him. She tried to get him to wake up and get up, but he wouldn’t open his eyes, move, or speak. She remembers neighbors taking her home and her mother screaming and sobbing when told that Andre had been shot. Samantha recalls that her mother “never was the same” after that; She wouldn’t go out except to go to work and return home.

Samantha frequently found her mother seemingly in another world, sobbing and saying, “My boy, my boy!” After the shooting, Samantha’s father also started drinking alcohol to the point of intoxication several times a week. Samantha has learned to stay away from him when he is drinking because he changes from being a loving and kind man to an angry and violent person she doesn’t recognize.

Samantha’s parents kept their jobs; They worked long hours and encouraged her to get scholarships and do well in school and sports. Samantha feels very grateful but also guilty that her parents are stressed and working hard while she seems to be enjoying school and sports in a sheltered school setting. Girls in her neighborhood, though, call her an “Oreo” (because she is Black, but they see her as trying to act like a White girl) and have stopped being friends with Samantha.

At school, girls pick on the way she speaks, saying she sounds like a “ghetto girl,” and that she only got into the school because of charity or government handouts. She has a solid group of male friends but sometimes feels like she doesn’t really fit in with the other girls at school. Girls are also jealous of her because of the attention she gets from boys, which has made making girlfriends even more difficult. She has one close female friend, Lily, who is also on the lacrosse team.

At the end of Samantha’s junior year, after she had aced a very difficult AP (Advanced Placement) chemistry exam, Lily convinced her to go to a senior summer kickoff party. A graduating senior, Jack, who had been asking Samantha out since she was a freshman, was hosting the party and wanted both girls to come. After prodding from Lily, Samantha decided to “let loose” for one night and attend the party. Samantha told her parents that she was sleeping over at Lily’s. Jack made a big deal of Samantha’s being at the party and offered to “grab drinks.” Although he was enthusiastic, Jack had always been friendly and had never been aggressive in his pursuit of Samantha. Samantha had only experimented with alcohol, but she wanted the full party experience, so she decided to “go for it.”

Samantha began by slowly sipping on a drink, but then got pulled into a drinking game with Jack and his guy friends. She quickly became intoxicated. Jack asked her if she wanted to go somewhere quiet to talk, and Samantha agreed. Jack helped her walk precariously to his bedroom, and the moment she sat on his bed, Samantha passed out. Realizing that she needed to be taken care of, Jack went to find Lily. This took quite a while with the raucous party spilling over into all parts of the house.

When Jack and Lily returned, they saw four very intoxicated guys nervously coming up the hallway from the direction of Jack’s room. When Jack and Lily entered the room and turned on the lights, they saw Samantha sprawled out and mostly undressed on Jack’s bed, still unconscious. Lily called an ambulance and Samantha’s parents.

Samantha woke up in a hospital room with Lily, Jack, her parents, and a nurse. “What happened?” she mumbled. “The last thing I remember was being with you, Jack. Something’s wrong. I feel all numb but like my body’s been run over by a truck. Did we get into an accident?” The next several weeks were a nightmare for Samantha, and for her parents and friends. She felt depressed and scared because she could tell she had been assaulted, but she had no memory of it.

When she met with a sexual assault counselor working with the police and learned that one of the boys had confessed and that she might have to go to court if criminal charges were pressed, she felt terrified and like the whole world would know she was “dirty.” The sexual assault counselor got her an appointment with a female therapist who worked with girls and women who have been sexually assaulted. Samantha delayed starting psychotherapy for several weeks by canceling several sessions. Her parents finally insisted that she talk with the therapist and drove her to this, her first, psycho-therapy session.

Session Transcript, Annotations, and Commentary

After the annotated session transcript, I present a summary of Samantha’s observations and reflections on her experience in the session. Following this summary is commentary highlighting key themes and take-home points for handling this or similar crises, and questions for reader self-reflection.

THERAPIST: So, Samantha, tell me a little bit about you.

SAMANTHA: (Stares at her lap) I’m in school.

THERAPIST: Mm-hmm.

SAMANTHA: (Still looks down but glances furtively at the therapist) And I’m into my senior year. I like to play volleyball.

Therapist’s Inner Reflections: Samantha seems very withdrawn and in a lot of pain and emotional turmoil. She looks haunted; there’s definite fear in her eyes, and she’s glazing over and just barely holding it together. Looks like she’s heading for an emergency and a breakdown. I want to help her reorient to the present, so I’ll engage her in focusing on who she was before the rape with an emphasis on her physical self so that she can become more aware of her body and slow down the flood of ruminations that she appears to be experiencing.

By orienting to the strengths and abilities she had—and still has—this can help her do an SOS [as discussed in Chapter 5, SOS refers to slowing down and sweeping her mind clear, orienting to a thought that helps her feel safe, and self-checking stress level and level of personal control] and begin to feel more personal control despite the intense distress she’s feeling. I’m not going to introduce the SOS formally to her because that would seem too didactic and intrusive, but I can help her do an SOS and begin to focus herself by showing an interest in her interests and strengths.  

THERAPIST: Excellent. I know that you know this—I met with your parents a little bit before you, so they told me that you have been a great athlete for a while. So, volleyball is now your favorite sport?

SAMANTHA: (Hunches over, looks at her feet, no longer glances at the therapist) Uh-huh.

THERAPIST: Excellent. Wonderful. Okay. And, um, I also know that things have been rough the past 3½ weeks . . . and that’s why you’re here today. So, I want you to know that—that we can work on this, that this is actually gonna be, um, a little bit hard at the beginning, but I know that you will—we will figure out ways that you can really overcome this terrible thing that had just happened to you. I’m sorry. So, because you’re a good athlete, I know that you work hard . . .

SAMANTHA: (Relaxes slightly) Mm-hmm.

Therapist’s Inner Reflections: I’m not going to ask her to tell me what’s triggering the distress for her because that probably seems obvious to her (even though it’s more complicated than she fully recognizes). By acknowledging the trauma in general terms, I’ve signaled to her that I do recognize what’s triggering her but that I’m not going to dredge up what’s happened or how she’s feeling because she’s probably trying very hard to not be aware of the shame and betrayal that I expect she’s feeling—and to not think about the rape, even though she probably can’t stop having intrusive memories, especially because she was not conscious while the rape happened. For the sake of Samantha’s sense of security in talking with me, which is very new and fragile — with this being our first session, the betrayal she’s experienced, and her damaged sense of self and efficacy—I’m going to emphasize her ability to accomplish difficult goals at this point.

THERAPIST: . . . and also your parents told me that you are a very good student, too.

SAMANTHA: (Looks up tentatively) Uh-huh.

THERAPIST: You have worked for—for everything that you have now. Right? And you really just have to finish your senior year the same way that you have, you know, have worked so hard your whole life to be where you are. So, your parents are telling me that they are concerned because you’re not going to school. Hmm. That has been really hard on you.

SAMANTHA: (Looks at the therapist, then down) I just don’t feel like going to school anymore.

THERAPIST: Mm-hmm. Yeah. So, tell me some of the reasons why you don’t want to go to school.

Therapist’s Inner Reflections: I’m sure there are many reasons that may seem obvious to Samantha, but I’m asking her to support this shift she’s just made from being passive and numb emotionally to being able to actively express her point of view. She’s engaging, even though the first signs are anger. Let’s see what more specific triggers she recognizes.

SAMANTHA: (Looks directly at the therapist, eyes blazing) I don’t wanna see certain people. (She sits back, strokes her ear reflexively with one hand, and sucks on the thumb of her other hand.)

Therapist’s Inner Reflections: The distress she’s feeling is intense. I see her doing several forms of reflexive physical self-soothing to tolerate the distress. As she does that automatically, she could put herself into a dissociative trance. I’ll support her intention of self-soothing and see if I can gently help her to do it consciously and to access other forms of self-regulation as well so that the self-soothing doesn’t lead to a dissociative shutdown.

Dissociation could lead to the healthy self-protective and self-assertive anger she’s understandably feeling to leak into her self-soothing in the form of unconscious or barely conscious self-harm. I’ll start by returning to the first part of the SOS: helping her focus on her breathing and being aware of her body.  

THERAPIST: Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Okay. It’s hard to, to see some of your friends or your acquaintances? And now I can see that it is really hard, Sam, to just talk about this. And I can also see that your body is telling you that probably right now you need to be soothed. So, one way of doing it, and I bet it’s helping you, is by touching your ear—yeah? And sucking your thumb. We can explore other ways that can also be helpful. Can I show you some other ways? (Samantha nods.)

THERAPIST: So, let’s try to focus on your breathing, Sam. Can you breathe for me deeply? Can you feel the air coming in from your nostrils? Can you do it maybe one time? Can we try another one? (Samantha looks down and begins rubbing and then scratching her arm.) This is too hard. This is painful. Is the scratching helping you? Hmm. Can we explore other ways, too? (Samantha stops scratching her arm and instead rubs it more slowly and gently. She begins to tap her feet vigorously.)

So, I can see that you’re moving your feet. Can you feel your feet on the floor, Sam? Yeah? Can you tell me if your feet are warm or cold? Yeah. Let’s try to keep on moving your feet. Keep on moving them. Yeah. Can you move your other foot? Yeah. Alright. Can we breathe a little bit more? Let’s do three times this time. Okay? One . . . two . . . three.

SAMANTHA: (Shifts from rubbing her arm to scratching with increasing intensity; begins to hyperventilate.)

Therapist’s Inner Reflections: Samantha’s escalating into emotional dysregulation and what looks like a dissociative state. Helping her to relax may be unintentionally leading her to lose track of her ability to self-regulate, I need to stay with the focus on body awareness but step up and gently but firmly guide her with very specific small steps to doing so without hurting herself.

I think she needs to see what I’m talking about, both to be able to cognitively process what I’m saying and to reorient herself to being present and not alone but supported by me. I’ll keep the focus on her being in control of herself so that she doesn’t experience me as taking control away from her in the way that those boys did by sexually assaulting her when she was unconscious.

THERAPIST: And, instead of scratching, can you touch your other hand and your arm like this? How does that feel? Can you feel your arm? Can you feel your wrist? Yeah? Keep breathing. You’re in a safe place, Sam. Nobody’s trying to hurt you here. Okay. I like this. Do you feel that your body likes it? When you try to soothe yourself like that, how does it feel?

THERAPIST: (Samantha gradually breathes more slowly and deeply with a more relaxed torso and legs.) Nice.

Therapist’s Inner Reflections: As Samantha calms down and comes back into the room, I can feel the tension draining out of my body as well. I’m primarily focused on Samantha, but I’m noticing that it helps me personally to self-regulate by doing these simple self-awareness actions along with Samantha. Now I can help Samantha not only feel calmer but also safer and protected. I’d like to give her a hug myself to comfort and reassure her, but I know I’m not her mother (even though I’m thinking about my daughters and wanting to hold them when they’re upset or hurt), and she needs to know that no one will intrude on her in this therapy. So even through it seems kind of silly, it makes sense to help Samantha to hug herself, and she’ll know that I am contributing to that hug without intruding on her personal space in a physical way that could feel like a replication of the rape (and her brother’s murder). 

THERAPIST: Nice? Alright. Have you ever given yourself hugs? No? Sometimes I give myself some hugs. Sometimes that helps me. Try it—maybe not here but later on. Okay? I’m wondering, you know, how we’re gonna find ways that soothing yourself is going to be part of your daily routine, and, at the same time, you can soothe yourself and only you will know that you’re soothing yourself. Alright? So, we did that sort of breathing a, a little bit of deep breathing, so you know that you’re breathing deeply because you want to focus on the here and now, putting your feet on the floor and making sure that you know that you’re feeling it, feeling your hands. Right? Feeling different parts of your body and focusing on, you know, where you are.

Therapist’s Inner Reflections: If I help Samantha connect these simple breathing and body awareness actions with her athletic skills, that can make this something she can do intentionally both to reduce the intensity of her hyperarousal and to tap into her self-confidence. And I will emphasize the core goal of keeping herself safe, which is what she feels she and her friend (as well as the boys who perpetrated the rape) failed to do. Then I can link the goal of being safe to her withdrawal, which is a problem and a symptom of depression because it keeps her trapped in survival mode but also is an adaptive attempt to protect herself.

THERAPIST: Okay? It’s almost like playing volleyball, you know? I bet that you’re so good at volleyball because you are actually practicing, and when you practice more and more, you get better and better, right? So, it’s the same thing here with our emotions. The more that we try to stay in the here and now, the more that you’re gonna feel a little bit safer. Okay? And, so, the more that you feel, you know, that you are in safe environments like—I bet that you’re spending a lot of time in your house right now. Is it—is your house a safe place for you? Does it feel safe? (Samantha nods.) Okay.

SAMANTHA: (Continues to visibly relax; makes tentative eye contact with the therapist) Yeah, it does.

THERAPIST: Okay. Are there any other places that are—make you feel safe? No? Only your house? Okay. Alright. So, tell me a little bit about what would going back to school look like. What do you think that you need in order to feel calm, in order to feel that you can soothe yourself utilizing healthy ways so you can go back?   

Therapist’s Inner Reflections: Samantha now is associating the main goal of safety with calmer body feelings that represent a main emotion (feeling “nice,” which seems to mean that she feels a sense of peacefulness emotionally) and a main thought (that she is not trapped in horrible distress but has active ways to enable herself to feel better). With safety as a main goal that can organize her complicated emotions and thoughts, we can begin to explore her options for achieving the goal of protecting herself (and the related goal of returning to school and resuming her life and progress toward future goals, such as success in school and sports).

SAMANTHA: I have my best friend.

THERAPIST: Mm-hmm. Your best friend. So, tell me, what is your best friend’s name?

SAMANTHA: Lily.

THERAPIST: How long have you known Lily?

SAMANTHA: Since high school started.

THERAPIST: Okay. Since freshman? Wonderful. So, you’ve known her for 3 years now?

SAMANTHA: Yeah.

THERAPIST: Okay. And you can trust Lily? Has she been contacting you? Yeah? So, has she been supporting you these past 3½ weeks? Yeah? How does she support you? What is she doing to help you?

SAMANTHA: (Smiles shyly) She’ll check up on me like every day or so.  

Therapist’s Inner Reflections: Samantha is such a resilient young woman! Without my bringing it up, she went right to what’s probably the single best way to begin restoring her sense of relational security, which had been shattered by her friend Jack’s neglect and the other boys’ betrayal and exploitation.

Samantha is a little fearful of trusting that her best friend Lily won’t also let her down or even reject her, but she can see that her friend is standing by her. The sense of being cared about and valued, and watched over in a helpful and nonintrusive way are clearly crucial for Samantha’s recovery. I’ll explore that as a potential path forward for her.

THERAPIST: Mm-hmm. Mm-hmm. Wow. So, is she actually contacting you quite often? Yeah. Alright. Have you been able to keep up with some of the work at school? No?

SAMANTHA: (Shifts back to a tense fetal-like position; withdraws eye contact) No.

THERAPIST: Alright. Okay. Is that something that you would like to do? Yeah. Okay. So, you’re a very brave young woman who has gone through a lot, and your body is very wise and knows how to calm and soothe you. So, I’m wondering if, for next week, maybe you can visit your friend Lily at her house before next week and see how that goes? Would that be something that you are willing to try? Is that something that you think that you can do?   

Therapist’s Inner Reflections: That was a mistake and a close call. I jumped ahead by implying that I was urging Samantha to go back to school. I got caught up in the relief that Samantha (and I as well) was feeling when focusing on the security that her friendship provides. I’m glad I caught that by noticing Samantha’s nonverbal signaling and stepped back to suggest a much more manageable first step of just going to the friend but not facing the much larger set of stressors and triggers that she’ll encounter when she returns to school. One step at a time. I’ll help Samantha build a behavioral chain of small steps that can help her reengage with her relationships and her particular areas of strength and success: schoolwork and athletics.

SAMANTHA: (Looks thoughtful, determined, and then makes eye contact) Yeah.

THERAPIST: Okay. Alright. And I’m also wondering if you can start talking with Lily about some of the things that you can start doing at home or maybe with her, some of the schoolwork, especially about the good subjects that you really like and enjoy? Is that something that you think that you might want to focus on this week?

SAMANTHA: (Continues uninterrupted eye contact) Yeah.

THERAPIST: Alright. And the last thing, Sam. I’m also wondering, since you are an athlete and you got this—right—I’m wondering if there is anything that you can do this week that can help you to maybe jog a little bit or walk fast or—or do something like that around outside—around your house, where you can . . .

SAMANTHA: (Nods and continues to make eye contact) Yeah.

THERAPIST: . . . do some exercise?

SAMANTHA: Mm-hmm.

THERAPIST: Is that something that you think that you can do? Yes?

SAMANTHA: Yeah. I can do that. Yeah.

THERAPIST: Alright. Well, I’m really looking forward to seeing you next week. Okay? Thank you.  

Samantha's Observation

In a post session interview, Samantha said that she had been feeling that she didn’t recognize herself anymore and that her parents didn’t look at her in the same way as before. She was ruminating constantly about the party, berating herself for being so stupid and wishing she had never trusted Jack and his “so-called friends.” She had secretly started cutting herself to make the pain and shaking stop and sucking her thumb to comfort herself. In the session, she initially felt physically tense because she didn’t want to have to answer more questions from another adult about the assault and about how she was feeling and coping now.

She was surprised and reassured when the therapist was very gentle and accepting, but then she felt that she let down her guard and started to space out: “I kind of went somewhere else.” She felt extremely embarrassed when she realized that she had begun to suck her thumb in the therapist’s presence, but she didn’t know how to make herself stop. She felt a strong urge to hurt herself when the therapist brought up the earlier experience of witnessing her brother being killed. Samantha described having felt a sense of confusion and shock related to witnessing her brother’s murder that she realized was very similar to how she had been feeling about being assaulted. That realization helped her to understand why she felt unable to stop thinking about the assault: “It was another time when I was powerless to stop something terrible from happening to someone I cared about, and no one else protected them or me, either.”

Samantha emphasized that she found the therapist’s guidance to be helpful in enabling her to be “more in my body” and more aware of the present moment and surroundings. She found being able to be more aware gave her a feeling that she wasn’t powerless, that she could “take back some control.” She also felt calmer and safer, which was very different than the brief feelings of relief that she’d gotten from sucking her thumb or cutting herself—and she also didn’t have to deal with feeling ashamed of herself and embarrassed, which had been making things much worse for her emotionally.

By the end of the session, Samantha was feeling a small amount of hope that, with the therapist’s help, she could talk about the assault and her brother’s murder and figure out how to not feel so terrible that she couldn’t stop thinking about those horrifying memories. She also had hopes of figuring out manageable steps she could take to work toward returning to school and “getting back to having a normal life.”  

Commentary

As the session unfolded, the therapist clearly was focused on three primary goals:

  • building an alliance and instilling hope by interacting with Samantha in a way that was nonjudgmental, accepting, nonintrusive, and responsive, and that facilitated a sense of relational security, resilience, active problem solving, and hope for solutions
  • assisting Samantha in regulating her emotions and becoming nonjudgmentally aware of the understandable emotional turmoil she was experiencing by identifying and adapting her intuitive ways of coping with memories and emotions, and supporting her by affirming, highlighting, and drawing on Samantha’s many personal strengths
  • assisting Samantha in setting and emotionally committing to an over-arching goal that reflected her current concerns and that enabled her to organize her complicated emotions and thoughts in a manner that provided her with a path forward to restore the parts of her life and the aspects of herself—as an outstanding student and athlete, and as a valued friend—that she had relied on as a source of inner security, pride, and hope for the future  
The therapist navigated a number of crucial and challenging choice points in working toward these three goals. As the therapist’s inner reflections indicated, a first challenge was to help Samantha to remain sufficiently oriented to be able to self-regulate and benefit from the support and guidance the therapist could provide. Without explicitly teaching the first FREEDOM (focusing, recognizing triggers, emotion awareness, evaluating thoughts, defining goals and options, making a contribution; see the Introduction) step, the SOS for focusing, the therapist helped Samantha begin to be aware of her body and present circumstances for the very beginning of the session (the first “S” in SOS).

She also helped Samantha to orient (the “O” in SOS) by highlighting her ability and interest in sports. And she helped Samantha track not only the intensity of distress she was feeling (using body feelings rather than verbalized emotions as the guide) but also her sense of personal control (again using breathing and tactile self-awareness as a practical way to feel in control).

A common challenge faced when working with clients in or on the verge of crisis is establishing rapport and trust while determining how— and when—to best help the client disclose the memories and emotions that are causing severe distress. In the post session interview, the therapist confirmed that she was aware of recent traumatic events that had occurred for Samantha but did not ask Samantha to talk about those events. This signaled to Samantha that she could trust the therapist not to be intrusive, which was crucial in light of the traumatic violation Samantha had experienced and the many questions that she and others were asking her about what happened.

By alluding to the events, the therapist also was communicating indirectly to Samantha that it is important to consciously recognize the triggers that remind her of the traumatic events. In addition to simply being in therapy (which almost inevitably brings up memories), the therapist identified other key triggers, including going to school and Samantha’s experiencing distress in her body. Rather than inquiring about the specific triggering stimuli and circumstances, the therapist immediately focused on helping Samantha to respond to triggered distress with body awareness and breathing.

Doing so communicated to Samantha that conscious recognition of triggers does not mean that there is any pressure to dwell on or even talk about the traumas, the triggers, or both that elicit trauma-related memories. In this way, the therapist helped Samantha to recognize—rather than simply react to—current triggers for distress as well as the trauma-related memories. Samantha’s reaction of increased d

Suicidal Debates with Clients in Psychotherapy

When I started working as a therapist, the prospect of a client dying from suicide terrified me. I worried I would miss the warning signs, and that my negligence would have deadly consequences. There was a dangerous side of therapy, and I worried that eventually, there would be no avoiding it.

I still remain cautious, but I’m no longer terrified. I’m cautious because tragic events in my own practice have confirmed that the dangers in therapy are quite real. Yet I’m no longer terrified because I’ve learned how to think about suicide and depression more carefully. I’ve learned there are deaths that I won’t have the ability to prevent, but there’s still much I can do to help. I still believe that in most cases, therapy can interrupt clients as they shuffle down the path of despair, and it can turn them back towards the community of the living.  

Separating Depression from Sadness

My early concern around suicide came from the difficulty of thinking clearly about depression. The word “depressed” means different things across different contexts. It’s like the word “drugs.” Am I using drugs each time I go through a Starbucks drive-thru? Caffeine is a drug, so by one definition, I’m a daily drug user. A real bad boy. Leather jacket. Fingerless gloves. However, there’s an obvious difference between hot bean water and heroine, even though the word “drugs” can be used to accurately describe them both. When I think of paraphernalia, 20-oz cups and green stirring sticks don’t usually come to mind.

I think the word “depression” is also overly broad in a similar way. Before I was a therapist, I would use the word “depressing” to describe a sad mood, events in the news, or microwaving hotdogs for dinner. I no longer use the word depression in this way. Instead, I try to limit myself to when I’m describing a major depressive disorder. The reason I work to limit my use of the word is because depression, in its clinical form, increases the risk of suicide dramatically, and so I think it’s important to avoid the blurring of language. In matters of life and death, clarity is vital. Forcing myself into this distinction also helped me learn about five significant differences between depression and sadness in my therapy. My clients taught me their five depressing truths about depression.

Five Depressing Truths

When I first met clients who had traveled to the outer frontier of depressed states, I noticed that while despair could be their primary mood state, this wasn’t always the case. For some, it was an absence of feeling that they experienced. The client didn’t always tell me “I’m extremely sad,” but instead they sometimes they said, “I feel nothing — and I don’t know where I went.” Depression could present with a numbness, or more precisely, my clients were experiencing the first of their five truths; self-missingness. Their inner selves had left them behind, and what remained was an empty waiting room. This was one of the first differences that I noticed between depression and sadness.  

I also noticed that depression could create sleeping problems, difficulty with focusing, low energy, and a guilt that bent towards exaggeration. This guilt condemned my clients to wrongdoings they hadn’t committed. They felt guilty about being depressed, and when they had moments of reprieve, they felt guilty about that, too. My client’s minds would become kangaroo courts, and they would find themselves guilty on every trumped-up charge they could conjure. But in its most exaggerated form, this guilt could convince my clients they were harming others by committing the crime of simply being alive. More on this a little later. But this guilt, along with the collection of other symptoms, taught me another distinction between depression and sadness. While sadness is the description of a single mood state, depression includes a constellation of interconnected symptoms. In other words — and here is the second truth for my depressed clients — sadness is singular, but depression is plural.  

The absence of identifiable causes was a third truth, or dynamic, that my clients taught me. While stressors could certainly inaugurate depressive episodes, depressive episodes didn’t need external events to bring them about. Depression simply didn’t care about how well my clients were doing. Depression would invite itself into their life without notice, track mud into their house, and climb into their bed with its shoes on. In fact, many of my clients would tell me that they were on vacation when they first noticed that something wasn’t right. From their wicker chair, they watched the sun flicker on the water, listened to the waves — and felt absolutely devastated. It was the very contrast of the internal and external landscapes that brought them to realize that something was significantly wrong. These clients showed me this third truth about depression: it can darken the internal world, without identifiable darkness in the external one.

A fourth difference between sadness and depression that I learned from my clients was that sadness is an expression of the authentic personality, but depression is a departure from it. When depression eventually loosened its grip, my clients often expressed how unrecognizable their former self appeared to them. Depression seemed to operate like a spell. It would capture their emotional state and pull them into a shadowed place, and when this spell would loosen its hold, a return to their authentic personality would occur.

The final difference my clients taught me, and I think it’s the most important, is that depression can be quite dangerous, but sadness is not necessarily so. Far from being dangerous, I think sadness is a vital feeling. Sadness is how my clients felt when something important had been lost. Whether they lost a relationship, a home, or a career — sadness was the pain of absence. And as much as it hurt for my clients to feel it, this pain of absence was deeply important. It was important because when saddened, what mattered most to my clients was revealed. The pain of absence taught them what needed to be present in their lives. It was in the same moments they learned which losses they couldn’t bear, that they also learned what must be restored. To return wholeness to their lives, sadness told my clients which way to walk.   

But depression didn’t work this way. When my depressed clients looked inward, their inner state offered them no wisdom, but only suffering’s dead eyes stared back. This amount of suffering was unsafe. It was unsafe because this type of pain is simultaneously extreme and pointless. Clients can endure extreme psychological pain if they have a good reason, but depression provides no such reason. It seems that depression is a pain without purpose.

So, these five differences between depression and sadness left me with a more limited definition of depression: it’s a state of despair or self-missingness that requires no identifiable cause. It includes a plurality of symptoms, it’s a departure from the authentic personality, and it’s also dangerous. It’s not about microwaving hotdogs or the news. Or it’s barely about microwaving hotdogs and the news. But as I started to understand depression in this way, two things happened. The first is it made it possible to reconsider how I thought about suicide. The second was that my work with my clients significantly changed.  

Disagreeing with the Depressed

It’s hard for me to overstate how difficult it is for me when my clients try to convince me that they cannot be helped. While they might concede that people shouldn’t wish to die, they often tell me there is one exception, and it’s them. They tell me that the details of their pain are unique, and that they’re a rare and untreatable case. Their suffering stands apart from the rest, and in this way, it’s superior. Sometimes depression can cleverly recruit a pinch of narcissistic grandiosity to increase a client’s despair. Bon appetite!

This creates a challenge because my training taught me to honor, and not to disagree with, the feelings of my clients. In my education, disagreement was to therapy what deodorant was to teenagers. They simply don’t go together. But when my depressed clients try to convince me that they can’t be helped, I’ve found careful disagreement to be important. While it’s true that disagreement can elicit defensiveness and early termination with clients, disagreement has been a a useful skill in the presence of a client’s hopelessness. I think this skill of careful disagreement can be especially useful when it’s implemented in two steps. When I don’t mess it up, these disagreements can sound like this:

Client: I’m going to give therapy my best, but honestly, nothing has ever worked. It’s hard to imagine that after trying therapy for 10 years, this will be different somehow.

Therapist: 10 years. I can’t even imagine that.

Client: Yeah, it’s pretty hard to get that across to people. I’m just one of those rare cases where you can’t make any real improvement. I mean, those cases exist, right? I just happen to be one of those cases.  

Before getting into the heart of the disagreement, I want to mention how helpful the phrase “I can’t even imagine that,” can be. When I was learning to become a therapist, I worried that unless I shared similar experiences with my clients, they would view me with suspicion. I was concerned they would think of me as someone who “doesn’t get it,” and I’d be exposed as the imposter I was convinced I was. I didn’t handle these insecurities well. Instead, I exaggerated the breadth of my own life experiences. The good ol’ therapeutic skill of misleading clients. A classic. I would find ways to connect my client’s experiences with my own, even when there weren’t real comparisons to be made. I hoped that this would reassure my clients that I was qualified to help them, but mostly, it allowed me to hide my imposter syndrome behind my flexible autobiography. In therapy, this was my hiding spot.

I eventually learned that it was better to handle my insecurities by acknowledging when I couldn’t relate. Not lying, I call it. A cutting-edge intervention, I know. But it wasn’t realistic to expect myself to contain the totality of human experience within my past, and when my clients thought our histories were more similar than they were, I was taking too many steps away from sincerus. For me, this style for building rapport was too far from “whole, pure, and clean.” Not only was stretching the truth of my personal history unethical, but I also risked that my clients could be left with the sense that their pain was unexceptional. “I’ve been there before,” didn’t necessarily carry a reassuring ring to it.

But once I accepted that my clients would experience many problems I would never experience, it became easier for me to tame my imposter syndrome. The truth is that personal experience isn’t a prerequisite for clinical competence. Instead, I think it’s better to share with my clients when the depths of their difficulties are hard for me to imagine experiencing. In the case of depression, most clients already know that most people haven’t felt the depth of depression’s deep waters, but when they hear that I know this too, something paradoxical happens — they know they’ve been heard.

Okay, enough about my poor character. I want to move back into the transcript. Here’s how the beginning of how cautious disagreement can occur:  

Therapist: Hm. That hit me a little different than I expected. Let me get some feedback from you, is that alright?

Client: Yeah, go for it.

Therapist: Well, I’m feeling two different things. The first is that I’m hurting for you. You’ve been through so much. But the other is when I hear you talk, I also feel this sense of protectiveness within myself. It’s like an urge to protect you, against you. I’m not sure you’re very fair with yourself. What do you make of that?

Client: Look, I don’t think I need your protection. I’m just saying I don’t think things will get better.

Therapist: Right, after trying therapy for 10 years, improvement sounds unrealistic.

Client: Bingo.  

Two things are going on here. The first is that I’m expressing disagreement by sharing my own feelings about their hopelessness. This is Step 1. There’s nothing to be gained by debating with my clients about whether they’re truly beyond help. This can leave them feeling less understood. But when I express how I feel about their hopelessness, this allows me to disagree without being disagreeable. For me, there’s usually a feeling of protectiveness that emerges, but sometimes there’s a feeling of sadness inside me, too.

There’s another part that I try to keep in mind when disagreeing with clients in their depressed state, and I think it’s the most important: I express my own hope about their situation. This is Step 2, and sometimes it sounds something like this:

Therapist: I gotcha. You know, if I’m honest, I wouldn’t ask you to feel hopeful at this point. My fear is it might feel too risky — like a setup for another letdown, and things have already been hard enough.

Client: Yeah, I’ve been through that. Having hope, and then things not working out. Done that several times.

Therapist: With all you’ve been through, not reaching for hope makes sense to me. I guess I’d like to share that in the meantime, I’ll be hopeful for the two of us. Maybe if you start seeing small improvement later, then you can join me, but for now I don’t want you to have hope. I can carry that part for us both.

My hope is that showing my clients that I understand why they’ve rejected hope can be an unexpected act of kindness. This might seem like a strange way to be supportive, but for many clients, I think hope can feel too vulnerable. Allowing themselves to become excited about the possibility of feeling better can seem risky, and so I encourage them to continue protecting themselves. But I also tell them that in the meantime, I’ll be hoping for the two of us. This lets them know that while I disagree with them about their prognosis, I won’t debate the matter — in our disagreement, I’m still on their side.    

Preventing Depressive Takeovers

That is how I practice expressing disagreement with my clients in their depressed states, but I think managing my private disagreements is just as important. Here is what I mean. I think disagreeing with my clients about the hopelessness of their improvement within myself is a precondition for honest therapy. How could I work with a client if we both agree that they’re beyond help? But in some cases, this private disagreement is a fluid process. There might be sessions when I find myself more optimistic about the client’s progress, and other sessions, less so.  

I think it’s important that when I find myself feeling less optimistic, that I treat this feeling with extreme caution. Hopelessness operates the way that yawning does – when one person yawns, others in the room will involuntarily follow. Hopelessness can also move across the room, and when spending hours in the presence of client hopelessness, it can spread across the therapeutic relationship and into myself. If I’m not careful, I can become worn down, and then I can become pessimistic about the client’s prognosis. When I join in the client’s hopelessness, I haven’t influenced the depression, but instead the depression has influenced me. The therapy itself has undergone a depressive takeover.

A depressive takeover is a phenomenon where a client’s distress spreads to the therapist over the course of therapy. The problem with these takeovers is that if I allow them to occur, my clients can sense that I share their pessimistic outlook, and this can reinforce their preexisting despair. Fortunately, I think there’s something that can be done to prevent this from occurring.

To prevent depressive takeovers, it has helped me to notice the connection between my being emotionally absorbent and the contagiousness of hopelessness. In my view, the more I’m sensitive to experiencing the feelings of others more generally, the more susceptible I am to the contagion of hopelessness. This means that there are rare moments in therapy when, for the sake of my clients, I attempt to become less emotionally porous. I try to shut my inner doors, and to absorb less of their experience.

To do this, I inwardly recite a phrase when I notice that I’ve started to feel pessimistic about their prognosis. I tell myself: that’s your mental health, not my mental health. Reciting this mantra in the privacy of my mind allows me to distance myself from my client’s experience. Creating this internal limit creates a pushing-away feeling, and it helps me close my emotional doors. It’s an empathy reduction exercise. When I create this distance from my clients, it helps me stand apart from the pull of hopelessness, prevent a depressive takeover, and remain hopeful for the two of us.   

The Arrow and Shield

Frank was 75 years old, and he’d never seen a therapist before, but he started saying things that made his adult children nervous and so they convinced him to speak with me. When he walked into my office, he got straight to the point. He told me he was ready to die, and shortly afterwards, he told me his name. Frank spoke with energy, “I’ve lived a full life. I’ve had children, grandchildren, and a lovely wife who died 10 years ago. The truth is that I’ve had everything I’ve ever wanted.” He continued, “I don’t want to get much older than this. I don’t want to become less recognizable to myself. I don’t want my kids to have to deal with that either.”

I was perplexed. It seemed like Frank’s desire to die was coming from a place of focused reflection. He wasn’t tearful, nor was he numb — he was grateful. I wasn’t sure if he was making a rational calculation about ending his life, or if he was under the influence of a depression that was undetectable to me. I took a breath and responded, “Frank. I’ll be honest with you. I’m not sure what to make of what you’re telling me, and I’m not completely sure how I should proceed. I’ve never been 75 years old, and I imagine it’s quite difficult, but I’m not sure if your wish to die is related to an underlying depression or not. If I take your word for it, I run the risk of overlooking this possibility, and that worries me. I hope this doesn’t sound too dismissive.”   

Frank nodded and I continued, “You mentioned you don’t want to put your kids in the position of helping you age. Can you teach me about that?”

“That’s big for me. I’m no use to anyone anymore. My kids are raising their kids, and they shouldn’t have to care for me, too. I can’t really give to them anymore; I can only take. I’m burdening the people I love the most.”

The word burden flashed in my mind. I felt a hunch and I wanted to test it. “Frank, this simply crossed my mind, and so tell me if this doesn’t fit, but I found myself wondering that if you were depressed, if you might hide it from your family. Maybe you’d worry that, in addition to your age, this would burden them, too. I’m only saying this because if you’re trying to protect your family by keeping things private, I’d hope you’d relax your protective nature with me. But tell me what I missed.”

We sat in silence as Frank looked out the window behind me. He clamped his palms together, cleared his throat, and we restarted the conversation.

Over the course of my therapy, I think it’s been useful to pay attention to the word “burden.” I’ve come to believe that this word, and the emotional experience to which it points, is the first part of suicide’s moral calculus. When my clients begin to think their existence is hurting others, being alive can start to feel like an ethical dilemma. “Should I stay alive if it harms those I love?” they might wonder.

This guilty feeling can become more dangerous when it’s coupled with a strong desire to protect their loved ones. I think this is the second part of suicide’s moral math. While suicide might look selfish from the outside, from the inside, clients often perceive suicide as the way to protect their loved ones from themselves.

With many of my clients who have survived their suicide attempts, they often express that while they were afraid of dying, it was their protective instinct that pushed them beyond this fear. From their vantage point, suicide was the right thing to do. They believed they were hurting their loved ones, and it was their responsibility to protect them. From within their suicidal mindset, many of my clients considered themselves both the arrow and the shield. It was the pulse of a self-sacrificing ethic that motivated them.    

***

As I look back at the therapist I was “back then,” and the clinician I have become, I realize that once I better understood depression and the moral dimension of suicide, this gave me something to work with in therapy. I learned that when my clients expressed the five depressing truths or when they believed they were a burden, there were things I could do to help. I could start by gently disagreeing with their hopelessness, disagreeing within myself to prevent depressive takeovers, and disagreeing with my clients when they’re convinced their loved ones should be protected from themselves. I am no longer terrified when the specter of suicide enters the therapeutic relationship.

Editor’s Note: In the next installment of this five-part series, the author will address strategies to address despair in therapy.    

Psychologists Struggle Too: How Shame Keeps Us Silent

Nothing breeds shame more than silence. If something is not spoken about or represented in our systems (e.g., family, workplace, industry), it can be considered wrong. This is why I have devoted my life to speaking out about mental health and, more recently, done so on a public stage as a psychologist who has experienced mental illness. I want to demystify the experience of mental illness in mental health professionals so they don’t suffer in silence, because we are, like the rest of the population, only human. However, it hasn’t always been that way for me.

Back in the 80s and 90s, when I was growing up, there were no representations or discussions of mental health or mental illness within the systems I was exposed to. The only thing you did hear was people being locked up because they were “crazy” or hearing the message that “you are weak if you have a mental illness.” And no one was talking about looking after their mental health, only physical health.

Struggling with Depression

So, when I struggled with my own mental health and eventually experienced clinical depression in my early 20s, I had no idea what was going on, and I didn’t dare speak up for fear of being seen as “less than.” I only received help when my partner contacted my parents for help, as he didn’t know what to do. While I did recover, I did so mostly on my own. I didn’t talk about it to others. I held a lot of shame for being depressed for many years.

Fast forward to my early 40s, early 2021. The world has changed drastically with how mental health and illness are represented and discussed, and I have about 20 years of study and working in the mental health arena under my belt. I now know differently that mental health is essential to care for, and mental illness is not a sign of weakness.

But despite all this, I once again suffered mentally, that time with a combination of burnout, vicarious trauma, and compassion fatigue. You would think that I would have reached out and spoken about my struggles this time with all that I knew and had learnt from my previous experience, but I kept quiet. I didn’t dare say anything because, once again, I felt deeply ashamed.

I felt ashamed and suffered silently for a couple of reasons. First, I believed that psychologists shouldn’t get mentally ill. I thought that, as a psychologist, I should have known better. I should have been able to prevent it. I thought that it somehow meant that I was not a capable psychologist. The other reason that compounded the first was that there was no representation or discussion of psychologists becoming mentally ill or working while managing their mental health or mental illness.

None of my peers, mentors, or senior psychologists ever discussed it. It was all under the radar and not out there for all to see. Outside of encouraging us to care for ourselves and seek professional help when needed, no psychologist or mental health professional I came across in training spoke of their own experiences of mental health struggles. Most likely, they didn’t feel safe to do so because nobody did for them. It wasn’t normalised or validated enough to feel safe to talk about it.

Speaking Out and Sharing Humanness

I only started speaking out about my mental health struggles as a psychologist when I began seeing a supervisor who could provide an environment where I felt safe to disclose my struggles. She was different from other supervisors I had. She was interested in my experiences and what was going on for me in the context of my work. She helped me to recognise my mental illness and take the necessary steps to recovery. She never made me feel like I was “less than,” nor did the psychologist I eventually saw for therapy.

More importantly, they both shared their humanness with me, their struggles, enough to help me debunk my belief that psychologists should be able to prevent their own mental illnesses. These experiences gave me the courage to share mine more with others, and as I did, I discovered that many psychologists and other professionals were also struggling with their mental health and changing how they worked to care for their mental health. It helped me drop the shame I had held for being a psychologist with mental illness.

Having had such a powerful experience of having my mental illness normalised by other people in my field, it became a passion of mine to pay it forward; to continue to change the culture of mental health professionals to one where we can talk freely about our mental health and what we need to take care of it; to recognise mental illness and support each other through it. I now share my mental illness story wide and far through various mediums, writing blog articles, appearing on podcasts, producing a lived-experience podcast, publishing my memoir, and providing therapy to fellow clinicians and others from different professions suffering from burnout.

I still fear sharing my story with fellow psychologists. I know this comes from being someone out on the fringe of my profession speaking out about this, but more robust than my fear is my compassion to help fellow mental health professionals drop any shame with struggling mentally. I can do that by sharing my mental illness experiences and mental health struggles. I don’t want another fellow psychologist or anyone to suffer in silence. We are only human.

Using A Holistic Approach to Therapy with Clients Experiencing Chronic Illness, Disability, and Mental Health Challenges

Prevalence of Chronic Illness/Disability in the United States

The presumption that “typical” abilities and wellness encompass the norm is a viewpoint that pervades United States policies, infrastructures, and societal expectations. The reality is that the majority of the US population grapples with chronic illnesses and disabilities, challenging the conventional definition of “normalcy.” While many associate illness with isolated incidents, dramatic and prolonged interruptions in otherwise regular lives — along with the prevalence of chronic conditions — indicates that illness is, in fact, more typical of the human experience than not.

According to data from the Centers for Disease Control and the Rand Corporation, over half of Americans (51.8%) contend with at least one chronic condition, whether physical or mental. Some estimates are that 42% of the population faces multiple chronic conditions. By comparison, according to the European Council of the EU, one in four, or 25% of European adults live with a chronic illness/disability. These statistics not only reveal the widespread impact of chronic illness but also emphasize the need to shift cultural perspectives surrounding health and ability. To be absolutely clear, in the United States, chronic conditions are the norm, not the exception. In his recent book “The Myth of the Normal,” Gabor Maté challenges prevailing notions of normalcy and underscores the ubiquity of trauma and illness within the diversity of human experiences. Exploring biopsychosocial aspects of chronic illness and disability, Maté exposes fundamentally unhealthy cultural constructs that shape our understanding of what it means to be “normal.” Moreover, in response to an unhealthy environment, Maté asserts that illness is a valid response. His work resonates deeply with my practice, as it highlights the importance of acknowledging the sequelae of trauma in the vast spectrum of human existence.  

As a Clinical Rehabilitation Counselor, my training encompasses both the medical and psychosocial aspects of chronic illness and disability. Moreover, my own personal journey as a cancer survivor and someone diagnosed with Crohn's disease enables me to meet clients from a perspective of lived experience. This experience underscores the importance I place on applying a comprehensive holistic approach to mental health in the context of chronic conditions many of my clients experience. My work in a small group practice specializing in supporting clients with trauma, chronic illness, and disability is a testament to the prevalence of such experiences.

Within my caseload, 95% of clients navigate the challenges of multiple chronic physical and mental conditions, often relying on state-subsidized insurance for healthcare. Among these individuals, approximately 60% identify as female, 25% as gender fluid or transgender, and 15% as male. Their narratives underscore the multifaceted nature of dependence and autonomy across various dimensions of life. From physical and financial to emotional and sexual realms, the complexities of living with chronic conditions influence every aspect of their existence.

For individuals grappling with chronic illness, the connection between past trauma and present health challenges cannot be overlooked. More often than not, these clients report elevated Adverse Childhood Experiences (ACEs) scores, revealing a complex interplay between past trauma and present health challenges. My integrative approach encompassing trauma-informed care, empathy, empowerment, and holistic healing includes attention to my client’s experience of their body. Attention to physical sensations including interoception and proprioception, breath, movement, and reflex patterns, allows me to guide them towards a path of resilience, self-acceptance, and well-being. Recognizing the intricate threads that weave together past experiences, present struggles, and future aspirations creates a space where my clients feel heard and equipped to navigate the complexities of their health journey with resilience and clarity. 

Relationships and Chronic Illness/Disability

One of the prevailing challenges faced by individuals with whom I work who have chronic illness and disability shows up in power dynamics within close relationships. Dependence on a partner for various types of support including financial and logistical, coupled with chronic pain and the struggle to balance gratitude and self-worth, can erode an individual's sense of agency. For those grappling with conditions such as Crohn's disease, fibromyalgia, multiple sclerosis, or rheumatoid arthritis, the unpredictability of their conditions makes planning for the future a daunting task. As a result, vacations, celebrations, and even daily routines are frequently disrupted. The demands of work often deplete their energy, leaving their partners to shoulder the responsibilities of managing a household and caring for children. The strain on intimacy and sexual relationships adds another layer of complexity.  

Partners of those with chronic illness and disability experience their own set of challenges, leading to feelings of frustration and helplessness. Their desire to provide support can transform into a sense of powerlessness as they navigate the complexities of medical interventions, lifestyle changes, and emotional well-being. The dynamic between partners can quickly shift from a place of caring support to caregiver exhaustion and burnout, a source of resentment that creates a cycle of mutual dissatisfaction.

In my therapeutic practice, it is not uncommon for clients to request involving their partners in sessions. Drawing from my unique perspective as someone who navigates a chronic illness while also being a partner to someone with health challenges, I provide insight that resonates with their experiences. This shared understanding fosters open dialogues that explore the intricacies of relationships within the context of chronic conditions.

One poignant example underscores the profound impact of childhood experiences on an individual's journey. A client shared a harrowing memory of their father monitoring their food intake during meals — threatening punishment if they exceeded a prescribed number of bites. This history of food-related trauma has woven itself into their present struggles with Small Intestinal Bacterial Overgrowth (SIBO), a condition marked by pain, diarrhea, gas, and bloating due to bacterial overgrowth in the small intestine. While the impulse to connect trauma to illness is compelling, the client's journey also involves a series of infections necessitating antibiotic treatment over time.

This client’s partner, in their well-intentioned efforts to support, inadvertently triggers their traumatic memories when attempting to manage the client’s food choices. The need for a restrictive diet as part of SIBO treatment further compounds their emotional turmoil, fostering feelings of deprivation and punishment as they strive to heal. Addressing this intricate interplay of trauma and health within the therapeutic space requires a delicate balance.

In a joint session involving both the client and their partner, I employed empathetic communication to navigate their complex dynamic. While acknowledging the partner’s genuine desire to provide assistance, I simultaneously asserted the client’s agency and authority over their own body and treatment. Employing the metaphor of the client as the “captain of their ship,” I emphasized that their body is their vessel, and they remain firmly in control. This approach is of paramount importance, particularly for individuals who already feel a sense of bodily discord and lack of control.

Additionally, it is helpful to recognize the partner’s role in the client’s healing journey. Acknowledging the partner’s commitment to honoring the client’s autonomy becomes an act of spiritual significance, aligning with their broader values. This dual recognition — empowering the client’s autonomy while honoring the partner’s supportive stance — fosters a therapeutic environment that not only addresses the physical aspects of chronic illness but also attends to the emotional, psychological, and relational dimensions.

In another case, my client grappled with chronic Lyme Disease within a relationship plagued with communication challenges, describing their partner as “unresponsive.” When they came for a family session whose purpose was to help them talk about the ramifications of her disease, I realized her partner was very likely on the spectrum. Though not his counselor, I was able to introduce both of them to this possibility, explain how this might be contributing to their difficulties, and help him connect with a counselor of his own.

Finances, Work, and Future Self in Chronic illness/Disability

For those clients navigating a chronic condition on their own, their lives are often precariously situated on what feels like the brink of financial ruin and collapse. With chronic pain or with an unpredictable condition exacerbated by stress, work is a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it may confer some security, sense of accomplishment, and self worth. On the other hand, it may aggravate certain illnesses by contributing to stress and may prevent people from qualifying for federal or state aid.

Most of my clients with chronic illness have applied for disability and are on their second or third appeals. They hang in a limbo where making money can compromise what little chance they have. Barring paralysis or a progressive condition, their chances of receiving disability are slim to none. These clients often seek work they can do from home. They are unwilling to take on student loans because of the precarity of their health. Some earn a living from piecemealing several jobs.

Whenever possible, I try to coordinate care with vocational rehabilitation (VR) services offered by the state which helps people find and obtain work suitable to their strengths and limitations.  

In one case of a client with chronic depression and difficulties which led to him losing his job, I advocated for him to receive a neuropsychological evaluation. Both the client and I felt he was on the spectrum. This enabled him to receive help from VR for job placement and support. By helping him find work that made use of his strengths while limiting his interactions with people, his depression improved along with his self-esteem. Whether living with a chronic physical or mental condition, it is important to remember everyone has strengths as well as limitations.  

Moreover, chronic illness, disability, chronic pain, and trauma can profoundly alter one’s sense of self. As mentioned earlier, the challenges posed by unpredictable and intermittent conditions make it challenging for individuals to plan for their future. This absence of foresight can have far-reaching consequences, undermining clients’ ability to envision a future version of themselves — a capacity often taken for granted. This lack of future-oriented thinking leaves clients susceptible to a multitude of setbacks, affecting their physical, mental, reproductive, financial, and educational well-being.

The ability to manage finances is a skill, yet those who lack both financial resources and a sense of their future self tend to make choices that perpetuate their financial struggles, leading to increased poverty. I’ve come to understand that these clients find it difficult to delay immediate rewards for a future date. Without a clear vision of their existence in the next 5-10 years, they prioritize immediate gains, which is understandable.

A client who was in the foster care system and spent a period of time houseless in their teens worked in the food service industry. Though experienced, their lack of formal education meant they often worked under managers with a degree but less actual experience than they had. Frustration with poor management led to frequent job dissatisfaction. Chronic but unpredictable illness limited their ability to work more than 25 hours per week. This kept them stuck in tip-dependent but ultimately unsatisfying work. Their dissatisfaction influenced their feelings about work in general.

During a period of unemployment, I encouraged them to explore alternative options. It became clear that they had only the barest sense of how much money they actually needed to cover expenses. A critical therapeutic intervention involved helping them create a budget in order to more accurately assess the benefits of a job that offered no tips, but more hourly pay. Even at 25 hours/week, they stood to cover their costs better than with sporadic food service work.  

To arouse clients’ sense of possibility, I lean on existential humanistic and Buddhist psychological teachings. None of us knows when we are going to die. People with long-standing conditions, both physical and psychological, live long and productive lives. To come to terms with having a finite amount of time with no sense of how much time is left is an essential human challenge. My clients experience grief over unlived possibilities. These feelings must be acknowledged and included. One client whose career was interrupted by an ependymoma (a spinal tumor that recurred twice) has grappled not only with ensuing disability from the spinal tumor, but ways she never took her career seriously even before the onset of the disease. Often disease itself becomes a catalyst for deeper exploration and participation.

Wellness Culture, Community, and Chronic Illness/Disability

Our culture’s pervasive and inescapable preoccupation with fitness, appearance, and social status is another hurdle facing people with chronic illness or disability. Research has demonstrated the undeniable mental and physical benefits of engaging in exercise and community. But for those who struggle with chronic illness and disability, these arenas are often outside their reach. These clients find themselves frequently isolated by the exigencies of their illness.

Socializing requires energy, and in the face of household or work demands, friendships fall by the wayside. The COVID pandemic resulted in yet another barrier for people with chronic illness and disability who are at risk of more serious infections. For those with mobility issues, opportunities to exercise are limited. One client with Cerebral Palsy receives only 6-10 sessions of physical therapy per calendar year.

Part of providing holistic therapy is helping clients discover ways to include movement and connection in their daily routines. As an example I work with severa,l clients affected by Ehlers Danlos Syndrome (EDS). EDS is a genetic condition that affects collagen, our body’s connective tissue. It ranges from mild involvement that creates hypermobility in the joints, requiring avoidance of extreme movement practices, to so severe it can cause heart and other organ failures.  

I frequently incorporate QiGong movement exercises in sessions, or I provide clients with short videos to follow. QiGong, a 4,000-years-old mindfulness based movement practice used throughout Asia for health maintenance, healing, and longevity, has been shown to mitigate pain, lower cortisol levels, and improve self-efficacy perceptions. The movements are gentle enough to not strain the body, yet require focused attention. They can be performed standing, seated, or supine. 

For those clients who are housebound much of the time, the need for community is often met by online connections. One client maintains an active online presence and connects through advocacy and providing education about their condition. For a trans teen client attending online school however, face-to-face interactions with peers is missing and contributes to their feeling alone. Like many people his age, he’s reluctant to learn to drive, and though he has applied for many kinds of work, he’s not been able to find employment due to his age. These circumstances compound his isolation. Group therapy has sporadically met those needs, but isolation remains a significant issue for those with chronic illness.


***

In my personal and clinical experience, addressing the mental health needs of individuals with chronic illness and disability requires a holistic and empathetic approach. As a therapist, I have found it essential to challenge prevailing cultural norms, advocate for the acceptance of diverse abilities, and provide a safe space where clients can explore their unique journeys.

At the outset, chronic illness and trauma can feel like burdensome lead, weighing down the spirit and clouding our sense of self. The challenges posed by these experiences may appear insurmountable, the darkness can be overwhelming. Yet, it’s in the crucible of adversity that a profound alchemical process unfolds.

In essence, the alchemical journey of turning lead into gold mirrors the transformative power of the human spirit when faced with chronic illness and trauma. It reminds us that within the depths of our struggles lies the potential for profound growth, healing, and the emergence of our most radiant and precious selves. By fostering open conversations, cultivating self-advocacy, and nurturing supportive relationships, I, and hopefully fellow clinicians reading this, can empower their clients to embrace their identities and navigate the complexities of life with resilience and grace.   

Mary Jo Barrett on the Collaborative Treatment of Incest and Complex Developmental Trauma

Lawrence Rubin: Hi, Mary Jo, thanks for joining me today and sharing your clinical expertise in the systemic treatment of incest and complex developmental trauma. Just before we went live, you were sharing an experience you had while giving a webinar this last weekend, and something caught my ear that I wanted to ask you about. You suggested that there is something different between what is currently being practiced in the field of incest and complex developmental trauma, and what, in your experience, is correct, or what should be practiced.
Mary Jo Barrett: That’s a good place to begin. When I first started, which was 45 years ago, I was a worker for the state, basically doing in-home counseling. I discovered that in all these child abuse and neglect cases, there was a significant number of cases involving incest and sexual abuse — whether immediate family members or close family members or clergy or whatever. I would go to my supervisors for guidance, but no one really knew how to treat it.
For example, Minuchin told me that I didn’t need to focus on the incest. I just needed to look at restructuring and building a hierarchy, and that the incest would then be alleviated. Carl Whitaker, who I was madly in love with, basically said, “You know what? I don’t know what to tell you.” At least that was honest. He said, “I do schizophrenia. You better figure out how to do incest.” He was my teacher, so I decided I needed to figure it out.
And so, over the years, I started asking my clients more formally about incest and sexual abuse. I also had my supervisees ask their clients. And whether I was conducting training in Europe or here, I began to ask the clients what the most effective thing about their therapeutic experiences was, and what about the therapy they had received made it “good therapy.”
Basically, nobody said “techniques.” They said what we know they would say and did actually say. It was the relationship between the therapist and client. But they even said more specific things. And of the specific things they said, I narrowed the list down to what I call the five essential ingredients of trauma treatment. But what they said applies to all models of treatment. And as we know, none of these models are better than the other I developed what I call a meta-model that applies to any trauma protocol that exists based on these five essential ingredients. And so, whether you do IFS or CBT or SC or any of the alphabet soup of techniques or protocols that are out there, they will be successful if they have the five essential ingredients.   

The Key to Effective Trauma Treatment is Collaboration

LR: What exactly are these five ingredients for effective trauma treatment?
MB: People, especially those who have been abused, need to feel that they have value, power, control, and connection. So, these “ingredients” include the client:

  • feeling valued
  • learning specific skills in finding resources
  • understanding contextual variables needed for an engaged mind state
  • developing workable realities
  • building a hopeful vision for the future

When a therapist, case manager, or foster care worker gets stuck with a client who has been abused or neglected, I suggest that they don’t go back to the protocol, but instead to the relationship.

LR: Going back to the question that I opened with, how do you see what’s in the zeitgeist now, what’s popular now, as being lacking in comparison to this collaborative model that you developed?
MB: The basic essence is that I go to the client to tell me what to do, versus going to a model or technique to tell me what to do.
LR: Can you think of a recent clinical instance in which the relationship seemed that much more important in the moment than any technique or model?
MB: Larry, every day! That is my model. Every session. In every session when you’re talking about trauma, there will be an impasse. I call it differently. In any moment, there’s going to be what I call a traumatic stress, which means the client, because of their trauma, is going to experience therapy as dangerous.
As we always say, survivors often see danger where danger doesn’t exist. I mean, that’s a standard thing. But that happens in therapy all the time. That’s because the therapeutic relationship is based on hierarchy and attachment. There is a hierarchy, right? I mean the therapist has more power. And the therapist is often controlling the sessions or the direction or what’s going on. And there’s a necessary attachment. There’s going to be an attachment between therapist and client.
Abuse and neglect are embedded in hierarchical attachment relationships. Now, the thing is, every time I say abuse and neglect, people might go, “But we’re talking about trauma.” And I’m saying, again, almost all the trauma cases we talk about revolve around interrelationship violations.
LR: So, if we practice anything other than a collaborative model, then we may in some way be replicating the hierarchical violation in the family that contributed to that abuse.
MB: I’d say that a majority of these clients anticipate and experience, from time to time, that violation in the therapeutic relationship.
LR: So, if the therapist moves too quickly or dives right into the trauma narrative or says, “Tell me about this,” or, “I’d like you to do this,” they are abusing their power? Even using directive words or a tone of voice or body posture can trigger a client so that they feel unsafe. And that’s when you would be cognizant of that, hypersensitive to that, and readjust any of those facets of your approach?
MB: Correct. And the collaborative change model is exactly that cycle. What you just described. And what’s interesting to me is that the collaborative change model is a natural model. And when I describe it, folks at the clinic say, “Oh, my god, yeah!” And the good clinician says, “That’s what I do in my sessions anyway.” And all I’m saying is, make it conscious. It’s a natural cycle of change.
The first phase is creating a context — which is creating refuge, making assessment, figuring out what’s going on — then making a direction, deciding what kind of intervention to use. And then when we start doing our interventions, which is natural, we’re challenging, right? And the relationship becomes embedded in this hierarchy because I’m sort of pushing and challenging by asking them to do something different. And in that moment, the client might experience a moment of fight-flight-freeze-submit. Or fix! And I have to, as a clinician, recognize that.
And in that moment, instead of pushing harder to make an assumption of, “Oh, they can’t tell,” or whatever it is, I need to stop and recreate a context of change. So, at that moment, I stop and say, “What do you need now? What’s going on? How do you feel? Should I slow down? What’s happening?”
I’ll give you an example. I had a client who often during the sessions would say, repetitively, “You don’t get it. You don’t get it. You don’t get it.” And I’d often get defensive. I’d sometimes want to say, “Well, help me understand,” or, “Explain it.” And then one day after the session, I was thinking, “I think that’s a trauma response. So, I said, “I’m wondering if when I’m doing something that triggers you, you experience me as threatening and go into ‘You don’t get it’ as a repetitive response.” And she really thought about it and looked at it and she said, “You know, I’ve often felt there’s things you do that remind me of my mother.”
This client’s mother was like Joan Crawford’s character in Mommie Dearest, and we’re not just talking severely abusive. I asked her what reminded me in those moments of her mother. In response, she said that I talked loudly, and it was the way I dressed in skirts. She experienced me as dressing in a way that was, for her, reminiscent of her mother, which she experienced as provocative. I don’t know that it was, but she experienced it as such, so for her, it was.
So, when we then had that conversation, and from then on, I did consciously change how I dressed on the days I saw her. And I consciously changed my voice. And after that conversation, she never said, “You don’t get it,” again.
LR: So, when she emphatically repeated, “You don’t get it, you don’t get it,” it was metaphoric for something like, “You’re not hearing me, that hurts, stop it, you’re not hearing me, you’re dressing in a way that confuses me. You’re not hearing me. Daddy did this, or Mommy did this, or my brother did this.” It’s like this broad statement of, “I am feeling abused right now.” She may not have been able to put a finger on exactly what element of your relational moment was triggering her, but “You don’t get it,” meant, “I am feeling powerless and unsafe.”
MB: Violated. She was feeling violated.
LR: She was feeling violated. Because you’re much more cognizant about the relationship and the attachment, and breaches in the attachment, you were able to look inward and ask yourself, “What could I be doing? How could how I be talking? What would I be wearing? What might we be talking about? What is it about the way I’m asking questions that could be replicating at some level what happened in her family?”
MB: Yes.
LR: Did I get it right?
MB: You did get it. I should bring up my PowerPoint. You’re doing a very good job. I have three slides that I use in trainings, which I introduce by saying, “These are the three watchwords or phrases of my faith.” The first one is by Mandela that says, “A good head and good heart are always a formidable combination.” The second one was by R.D. Laing who talked about the importance of awareness by saying something like, “If you aren’t aware that you’re not aware, there’s nothing you could do to make change.” And the third one is by Jay Woodman which says that “Life is a series of cycles of getting lost and finding yourself.” And that each time you’re lost, if you look at it as a possibility, then you will find yourself in a new place. And so, my thing is, therapy is a cycle of getting lost and finding yourself again. And once you’re aware of that, you integrate your mind and your brain, your heart, and you’re golden.   

The Healing Power of the Therapeutic Relationship

LR: Is there something about trauma, and incest in particular, that drives clinicians to cleave to techniques and theoretical models; bypassing what they truly know to be effective, with is the relationship?
MB: It’s an integration of the two. When we spoke with these clients, it was clear that they did need new skills. It was the third most important thing, not the first. But the first thing they said was connection. The second thing they said was they had to feel valued, and they had to value the clinician. Then they said they had to feel empowered. And then they said skills.
Everybody that’s developed a protocol model is going to argue with me and say the relationship is the basis of all those protocol models. I would say I got you; I believe you. But if you ask the people who are trained in those models, they will say the emphasis is on the protocol and the interventions.
And they would also say that the difference is that when they’re stuck or a client gets activated, that it’s “go back to the protocol,” versus going to the client to collaborate.
LR: I wonder if there’s something about trauma, and particularly incest, that compels clinicians, especially those who aren’t experienced, to have to “do something.”
MB: A hundred percent! This is actually the new thing that I’ve added to the “fight-flight-freeze” paradigm, which is “fix.” So, I think what happens when a clinician becomes overwhelmed — I call it a place of traumatic stress — fix becomes part of a trauma reaction. The traumatic stress reactions.
When a therapist falls into a “fix-it” state, that should be an indication that they are in the trauma field and are feeling dysregulated. They then have to get re-regulated in order to move to a different place. And it’s the same with the client, who at that moment needs skills to re-regulate themself. I don’t believe when a client or a therapist is dysregulating, that’s the time to automatically use a technique.
LR: So, by jumping in with “a fix,” the therapist might be trying to regulate themselves at the cost of their client’s regulation.
MB: I want to say one other thing which is not going to be popular. I believe that when therapists jump in with a technique, they’re hoping it’s a solution for the consumer of their services.
LR: Giving them something.
MB: Giving them something, which is capitalism. Everything is an agreement in the contract with my clients.

The Importance of Working Systemically with Incest

LR: Someone reading this interview might say, “Well, it sounds like she’s working with the individual,” but I know you’re deeply systemic. So, I’m assuming that this collaborative model infuses your family work around complex developmental trauma?
MB: Yes. Most of the clinical work I do is with couples and families. And this goes back to the research we did with these clients who said that rarely, if ever, did other clinicians include their family. So, what would happen is that after those sessions with the “other” therapists, these clients would go home and have abusive fights or get hit. Or a parent would continue the abuse or violate.
Here, I go back to what I said earlier. Abuse, neglect, and childhood developmental trauma are embedded in a relationship of hierarchy and attachment. So, I believe healing should happen in a relationship.
I want the therapy to recreate some of the crisis right in the room with me. So, if there’s a fight, and dissociation, we all can witness it together and address it in the moment — together. If there’s eyeball-rolling that then triggers the other person, I want it to happen in the room, because those are the cycles that cause the traumatic stress at home.
Everything I’m saying to you here and now is what I say in the first session. When I start a session, I want the safety in our relationship to spill over into their relationship. I want their relationship to be a source of regulation. Not me. I don’t want to be the primary person in their lives.
LR: I can see how this would apply working with intimate partner violence. But are you saying that in cases where there is past or present childhood incest, that you would work systemically with either the current or past family members?
MB: Let me delineate two things. One; when the incest is currently happening and its children, yes, I include everybody. But I have all sorts of rules and boundaries. If it’s currently happening, and in most states, if incest is currently happening, then usually the perpetrator, whether it’s a sibling or a parent or not, is kept away from the child, right?
So, I don’t bring the alleged offender, or the offender, into the room with the victim until they’ve acknowledged facts. So, if they’re denying facts and saying, “She made me do it,” or, “He made me do it,” or, “It never happened,” I don’t do family with them. But I would do family with other family members. But I don’t bring the alleged offender into the room until after they’re no longer denying facts. 
LR: Is that enough? Just getting past the point of denial? Would they have had to have done some significant reparative work of their own before you brought them into the room with the victim?
MB: They are in therapy. Yeah. I mean if it’s currently happening, then the offender is in individual and group therapy, according to how I think good incest therapy should happen. And the rest of the family are either in individual, group, or family treatment for whatever their issues are. And the kids could be in individual concurrently with the family therapy.And then when the violator has met certain criteria, then they can start coming into the sessions.

LR: So, who’s your client? In a case of incest, where it happens currently, or even in the past, who do you identify as the primary client?
MB: The family. But/and my collaboration is with all. It’s a team. I mean it takes a village. Absolutely. When we’re talking incest, it can’t be done effectively by one therapist.
LR: Do you or can you even work effectively with adult survivors of childhood incest?
MB: I’ve developed what I call the “family dialogue program,” which is for adult survivors with their families. And so, I do bring them together but it’s different. I often do it in these intense weekend workshops because if people live all over the country, it depends on if we’re doing therapy about wanting to talk about the abuse and neglect or are we doing what I call the third reality, which is, let’s just focus on the future. Let’s not focus on, did it happen, didn’t it happen, what’s going on? Let’s just focus on, am I going to come to your funeral? Am I going to come to Passover? How can we be in the room together? Am I going to go to my niece’s wedding? Are you going to ever meet your grandchildren? That kind of thing.
LR: That presumes that the perpetrator must take responsibility. They must be willing to listen, at least. Be present and listen. In other words, if you want to ever see your grandkids, you’re going to listen to me. You’re going to hear me. And that perpetrator may leave not feeling very healed, but at least he or she will have given the opportunity to the victim to be heard.
MB: And that’s why I call it the third reality. Because we’re just focusing on, “it’s not about your reality,” it’s about if you want to see your grandchildren. If I want to come to your house, are you going to be able to tolerate me…you know, me believing this and being in the same room as you.
LR: In a sense, it’s a way for the victim to recapture some power.
MB: Oh, absolutely. And that’s what most survivors will say to me. I mean a lot of people have said, “I was in therapy for 10 years, and that weekend with my father was the most important thing in my healing.”

The Gratification of Working with Trauma and Incest

LR: Okay, okay. My guess is that many in private practice would run when they receive a referral for incest. But you seem to run toward it.
MB: I don’t think people in private practice run from the adult survivors, but they run from when it’s currently happening.
LR: Why is that?
MB: Because I think it is one of the greatest taboos. And they never learned how to deal with it. And I think they never learned how to manage. And they often don’t understand how anybody can even want to see their father or their brother or their mother based on what they’ve done to me. Or done to them. Done to the victim. And so, I think a lot of them experience transference and/or feel inadequate.

I don’t know if it was a particular case, and I said to my husband, “What kind of person likes working with sex offenders?”
And in terms of me, Larry, I supposed we could get me on a couch to figure out why. I do remember very distinctly one time bolting out of bed, like sitting up straight. I don’t know if it was a particular case, and I said to my husband, “What kind of person likes working with sex offenders?”
But I would rather work with incest any day of the week over depression because people I work with change. And I see that change. I have seen plenty of sex offenders change. And I’ve had the fortunate experience of being able to follow up on some of my very first cases. I’ve seen one of my first cases 40 years after they stopped. It was an unbelievable experience.
Well, partly it was fun because I got to ask them all sorts of questions. I’ve always been a very creative therapist, where I just make shit up as I go along, that seems to fit. I remember one of my cases — it was incest and domestic violence. The father was in supervision and was told he couldn’t be within 365 yards of his family when he first got out of jail. He actually parked a mobile home 365 yards from the family home. And he was something else.
About a year into it, maybe less, I went back to court to get permission to have him come to family sessions. And he did. And one time, I was doing a good old family therapy looking for strengths, and I said to them, “You’re not always abusing each other. There are times when you’re not. Let’s talk about those times.” And the kids were younger, like 16, 11, and 10. I handed out these little recipe cards where I asked each family member to write down the recipe for nonviolence. Like a cup of this, and 3 tablespoons of that.
I gathered them all and laminated them, and then had them talk about it. The mother said, “It’s half a cup of going to church, and another quarter of a cup is no alcohol.” I mean that kind of stuff. And so literally 30 years later, I interviewed the same family. And the woman, the daughter who was the incest survivor was 40-something. I asked her a couple questions, one of which was whether she had gone to any trauma therapy. She said, “Why would I? I already had it.” So, I asked, “When you were getting married, or dating, what was that like? Were you always anxious? Were you afraid?” She opened her purse and pulled out the laminated card, and said, “I only dated people that had the ingredients.”
LR: Talk about having an impact. Wow, that must have felt great.
MB: I burst into tears. I didn’t do the initial interview, one of my graduate students did. But I was behind a one-way mirror, because who wouldn’t want to see one of their first clients? I went in and I asked them questions. So, in fact, there’s an example of the use of a particular skill. I don’t know that- would it have been the same if it hadn’t really come from them? I don’t know.
LR: Had you not had a relationship, they wouldn’t have taken the cards to begin with.
MB: Right, right.
LR: Do you see yourself in charge of the treatment village when working with the perpetrator?
MB: I have a case right now of sibling incest, and one of the kids is a young adult, but not even, I mean probably a teenager still, 18, 19, who is in individual therapy. I’m trying to do a family session because the parents have two children. So, the parents are involved, and the son who offended his sister. And I’m trying to coordinate. And the sister’s therapist didn’t call me.
LR: What recourse do you have?
MB: Well, the recourse I have is the parents. He is still a teenager. So, the parents can call this person up and say, “Our daughter signed a release, we signed a release. You need to call.” I’m not saying it in a nasty way. But I try to avoid doing that because I don’t need to start an adversarial relationship. But that’s the recourse I have. If the person was an adult, I mean I’d still have the parents to talk to their child and say, “Look, we want to heal this.” As it turned out, the son’s individual therapist calls me and cooperates. We have a great working relationship.

The Complex Arena of Incest Work

LR: Earlier on in one of our conversations, you said, “Incest is virtually neglected in our field.” Clearly, incest hasn’t stopped.
MB: Incest hasn’t decreased at all since I started in the field in ’78.
LR: What do you mean it’s neglected? By clinicians? By researchers?
MB: : I think everybody’s neglecting it. I think that the problem is that we’ve lumped trauma into one thing — complex developmental trauma.

I think that there is something very important to calling violence or violations what they are. Incest is unique. It’s not just a sexual assault. It’s unique because this is often a relationship where the people also have a very positive connection. “This is my parent,” they might say. I had a client way back, I mean again, 30 or so years, who wrote a poem. The one line that sticks out into my head was — and I don’t think she was writing it just to me, it was in general — she said, “I asked you to put an end to the abuse, and you put an end to my family.”

LR: Oh! Did she write the poem to you?
MB: I don’t think it was to me because I asked her. It was to the system. She’s another one that I still have contact with because periodically she’ll write me and say things like, “I just had a baby, just won a marathon.” I mean that kind of stuff. I think professionals feel anxious. I think they feel traumatized. I think it feels like you said. It’s such a moral violation that, as clinicians, we don’t know how to manage. How do I manage that I care about somebody? How do I manage that this woman stayed married to somebody who sexually abused her child?

I just think the taboo is so deeply entrenched that it causes such distress to those who work in this area. I just was working with a family where one of the children was sexually abused. And the other two weren’t. And when I talked to all of them, I said, “All of you were abused. But what happened to Susie is more of a moral violation.” And so that’s why people can’t tolerate it. I think there’s something about not being able to tolerate it. Like I said, I can find something positive. It makes sense to me that someone can be abused by a family member and still care.

LR: The popularity of complex developmental trauma overshadows the clinical attention on sexual assault.
MB: All I know is that so many clients tell me that people either never asked them or understood it. So, it just gets lumped into a category of trauma. And all traumas are not created equal. I’m not saying incest is worse than being physically abused. I’m not saying it’s worse, I’m just saying it has its own unique connected relationship with somebody they cared about who I also had many positives. And it leaves me even in some ways more confused because it isn’t linear or simple. Even if the person was abused by somebody that came and left like a babysitter or Boy Scout leader, with whom they also had an intimate relationship, it’s very confusing. 
LR: The deepest form of betrayal.
MB: Yes. I think sometimes clinicians can’t manage that level of complexity. Which goes back to your question; “Give me some techniques, it makes things less complex. I can feel better about myself if I know how to do this. Do that.” Larry, every single day, I go, “Wait, I don’t know what I’m doing exactly. What do I do now? I just had this explosion.”

I was sitting in the room last week with somebody that got up, grabbed something off my table, threw it on the ground, and smashed it. “I got to go,” they said So, I said, “Wait a minute, okay, let me figure out.” What was I going to say in that moment? “Follow my finger?”

LR: What did you do? How did you handle the moment?
MB: What I did in that moment was said, “I need a drink of water. You need to sit down. I am feeling afraid. And I want to talk about this. But right now, I need to calm down. And you need to. We both need to.” I had been seeing this guy for a while. It made sense to say, “We need to regulate.”

Well, the wife was there, and they have a child. But the child wasn’t there. I had a separate session with the child. And I had a separate session with the wife. I did break them all up. And then I had a session with him, and we just talked about it. And I talked to him. And of course, like every other, he said, “This is what happens when she does blah, blah, blah.” “This is what happens when my child…” And I explained to him that acts of violence are linear. I don’t think I said “linear,” but… “I get it. It is all these other things that activate you. However, you have to make a decision about how you’re going to react to these things.”

LR: I would see where a younger therapist, or a frightened or threatened therapist might have ended the session immediately, out of fear for themselves, out of loss of control of the session. But you saw it as part of the way the system functions, and your role in that moment was to regulate. To me, the external regulator, the governor of sorts. Is apology critical?
MB: Acknowledgment is important, not apology. Because people say they’re sorry very easily.
LR: So, how do you know when an acknowledgment is sincere and productive, moving forward?
MB: So, when somebody is going to make a formal acknowledgment, it’s a planned session where they write a narrative. They write it down, they talk about… Basically, I have them talk about facts, impact, responsibility. So, they’re giving it to me beforehand. And that’s part of the therapy process. They’re writing their acknowledgement as a therapeutic technique. So, they’re writing this, and that’s how I know it’s sincere.
LR: What are some of the common presenting problems that people come to therapy with that raise your incest red flags?
MB: Well, on that level, they probably don’t look any different than any other form of abuse, neglect, or violation. They really don’t. Eating disorders, self-mutilating, suicide. Any of those things. Most of these are symptoms, I think are survival skills. I think they’re skills that people have used over time to survive their abuse and neglect. And now it’s become problematic. The skills themselves are problematic. The skills work. If I drank too much, if I cut, if I was sexually promiscuous, if I was suicidal, if I was dissociating. It might have worked to avoid memory and pain. That’s how I tell my clients; that most of their symptoms are utilized to avoid memory and pain until they don’t.

And now the symptoms themselves are causing the pain. To me, incest doesn’t look any different. What happens is, as I start my sessions by asking people how they heard about me.

If they didn’t know my name, they might have typed in “trauma, abuse, childhood something.” And it’s not just “therapy.” Usually, they got to me, somehow, they typed something else in. Or they got to me through a therapist. And so, when they say trauma, which is usually what it is, I then say, “Look, if we’re going to talk about it, we’re not going to talk about it now. But I need you to know I feel really comfortable talking about incest. I feel really comfortable talking about sibling abuse. I feel comfortable talking if you beat each other up.” So, I’m just saying, down the road, if any of those things come up, I feel comfortable.

LR: Has there ever been an instance where all roads pointed to incest and the person allowed you down that road, right up to the door, and then just closed it in your face?
MB: No. When I take a family history, when I do a genogram, and everything points to incest, I might just say, “You know what? I just need you to know from what you’re telling me; I’m not saying it was incest. But there might be, it could have been. It feels to me like emotional incest at least. Like you are hierarchically your father’s peer. Or it feels like you and your brother turned to each other in ways to get affection that you didn’t get from anyone else or your parent(s).”

So, it doesn’t have to be. And this isn’t your question. But it’s a question people often ask me. Do you need to know all the story to help? And the answer is no. 
LR: And I think clinicians sometimes may forget that incest is a violation of hierarchy. It’s a violation of trust. And not all incestuous relationships are sexual. Are there any questions I could have asked or should have asked?
MB: Well, I mean we have maybe a couple of million. But I think what I would say is, you know, we should talk again.
LR: I would like that. Thanks Mary Jo.

Strengthening the Therapy Relationship with Gay Men

In general, gay men have grown up feeling diminished in their families and beyond. The way in which they interact in the world is shaped by these experiences and so the stakes are high when they come see you. Comfort and compassion are essential components in successful treatment with gay men, and the immediate goal is to create a positive alliance. Growth takes root in this alliance, regardless of which therapeutic models or specialties you offer.

Because connection takes precedence in this moment, the paperwork that comes with this professional interaction can be put aside in favor of establishing rapport. Paperwork can wait, connection cannot.

When the client shows up to your office for psychotherapy, he will already be in a vulnerable state. His presenting issue, which is often a source of failure or shame, is accompanied by the internalized feeling that being gay is to blame. Thus, the association formed by the two of you must serve as a foundation of ongoing trust in order to explore what inherently feels dangerous to explore.

Sizing You Up

Gay male clients will be sensitive to certain aspects of interaction and particular qualities in you. Gay men are well versed in detecting safety concerns.

Do you understand him?

Are you reassuring?

Do you accept him being gay?

If you do, are you conveying it in a way that feels accepting and loving? (If he is coming to therapy based on issues pertaining to sex, intimate relationships, or compulsive behaviors, this will be especially salient).

If you are gay, do you share enough similar viewpoints for the relationship to feel safe and satisfying?

Is there a way in which the fact that you are gay actually evokes a sense of competition him?

Are you the kind of gay man he feels comfortable with — a therapist who understands his values within the community?

Is your style something he judges you for or reacts to?

If you are not gay, what are your biases, and how or when will they show up?

Are you open enough?

Whatever your orientation, do you offer the right balance of familiarity, professionalism and freshness?

As I said, the first goal at the start of new treatment is to make the connection. Remember the gay male’s history. Your client’s needs may have him looking outside of himself for acceptance, and your job at the beginning is a tough one. It is easy to fool ourselves into thinking we are doing what is right in order to make a connection, but paying attention to subtle interactional qualities is a crucial aspect of creating that necessary sense of trust. Dr. Zeig asks clinicians to imagine themselves in the consulting room: “What postures do you habitually assume? Are you unnecessarily rigid? What flexible postures can you adopt that can enhance your effectiveness?” (1)

If the client has been in therapy before, his explanation, “I wanted something new,” may warrant some exploration. Did he have a sense that his previous therapist disapproved of aspects related to him being gay? Did he come to some kind of therapy impasse? Was he having trouble translating insight into action? Whatever the reason for his having left the previous context, you’re it now, and in order to meet him where he is, you will need to appreciate his dilemma, figure out his relational style and provide the right amount of what he needs.

Keep in mind that most gay men are used to sitting on the sidelines. Showing sincere enthusiasm is inspiring, though it may take some time for him to adjust to the attention. Most clients come to therapy wanting to resolve a problem. Some are clear that it is crucial to have a good connection with the therapist in order to accomplish this, but others may not be aware of how important this aspect of therapy is.

Most gay men have grown up in unempathic environments. Thus, empathic resonance and responsiveness from the therapist are of particular importance. At the same time, the therapist’s empathic responses may fall on deaf ears as the client questions the genuineness of the interaction (2). Gay males suffering from low self-esteem are accustomed to deflecting energy from themselves and may have a knack for not accepting positive feedback. I also attribute the reaction to internalized homophobia. People with low self-esteem are more comfortable with critical feedback than praise, and they elicit values that confirm their negative self-view (3).

A quick story: A client who is not new to therapy but has just joined a group I lead reveals the tenaciousness of his low self-esteem even as he is receiving very positive feedback. This man is upbeat, attractive, articulate, and warm. When it is pointed out by the group that he exhibits these traits, his face becomes flushed, he breaks eye contact, looks down, and his posture transforms into that of a vulnerable child. Exploration of this response only brings out more embarrassment and shame. This is a man who is successful in business and to whom others respond with interest. His mysteriousness — a façade developed to hide behind — only evokes greater interest. In this moment, the uncertainty that lurks just beneath the surface is glaring.

Attunement

As therapists, we always appreciate the significance of the therapeutic relationship or we wouldn’t be working in this field. The topic is endlessly captivating. “The therapy relationship is more than a staging ground for technique, it is the primary factor in successful psychotherapy” (3).Our chief goal is to provide a meaningful experience with our clients. It is that simple. For gay men, this meaningful experience provides the greatest opportunities for change. Remember, using body awareness through experiential work, focusing on clients’ resources, and using the strength of the therapy relationship creates optimal change.

You and your client will simultaneously enjoy the rewards of using this three-prong approach. Attunement refers, in part, to this palpable shared experience. The term attunement has become popularized largely based on remarkable neuroscientific findings. Mutual physiological changes take place when people are attached to, and are in sync with, each other (4).

Your Natural Self

Whether it be your areas of expertise or your reputation that brought a client to you, being appreciative of the dynamic of the relationship is crucial. How you exhibit warmth and interest in him makes a difference. It is your natural strengths that create the greatest comfort and promote closeness. How you interact is far more important than the exact words you use. Techniques that you learn are helpful but perfecting them might be more significant for you than for your client. Your stance is that of a healer, respectful and sacred in your intentions. You are an important figure to your client, perhaps in ways he has never had in his life before.

Literature delights in affirming the significance of this relatedness. Successful therapy depends much more on the connection, empathy, and mutual fondness that develop between a gay client and therapist than any other attribute of the therapist. “What is healing as the client experiences being at one with the therapist.” (5). It is more important that the therapist direct efforts towards appreciating the client’s experience than focusing on what really happened. This perspective centers on the client’s affective experience.

Now, in current work with gay men, we can explore sensory experiences too. This opens up a treasure chest of possibilities because somewhere inside are his resources. Perhaps they have been dormant for years, but with caring guidance they can be elicited from deep inside. Research indicates that within the context of healthy relationships, individuals are able to gain experience of identity, meaning, choice, and love. The combination of these produces hope and resiliency. We discover our value, stretch our limits, gain new abilities, and collaboratively create a meaning for our existence (Short, 2010, pp. 301, 302). Authenticity opens to creativity and collaboration; the powerful mixture leads to success in the therapy.

Attunement in Action:

Create an inviting, informal atmosphere.

Use your eyes to make contact with your clients.

Be aware of your body language and show yourself to be open and welcoming.

Use your intuition to create a relational match by joining the client in his ways of perceiving things and living life.

Trust the unique ways in which information comes to you as you sit with your client. Utilize them.

Use humor with purpose in order to promote closeness or emphasize a point.

Strive to make a powerful connection that is profoundly experienced by both of you.

Focus on experience rather than technique.

Authority Figures

For gay men, positive experiences with authority figures are few and far between. Most gay men have concealed their identity or behaviors, recognizing that there was always the danger that people in positions of authority would be disapproving. I still find that many clients don’t tell their physicians they are gay, despite being sexually active. They are afraid their physician will react negatively, and the need for interpersonal harmony surpasses anything else. Of course, it is of the utmost importance to maintain good physical health, get regular HIV tests and immunizations for hepatitis, and to have safe-sex discussions. If a physician or therapist is perceived as being disapproving, the option of another provider is always a good one, yet secrecy is the default mode for many men. They forget that they have other options. This scenario happens just as often in psychotherapy, especially where sex and use of substances are concerned.

What Does it Mean to be Gay Affirmative?

I have highlighted that gay male clients flourish through your ability to notice and utilize their resources. This is the magic you can easily provide. Although it isn’t difficult, it often is forgotten amidst the therapy protocols and the current emphasis on identifying treatment goals. Clients are the best at self-pathologizing. Gay liberation itself is still fairly young (early 1970s); affirmative therapy for gay males is even younger.

Before 1990, there was ample literature to support the idea that conversion from homosexual to heterosexual was a preferred intervention. Some therapists believed it was in the best interest of their clients to change their sexual orientation, given that it is impossible for a gay man to live a happy life or have a stable relationship (6). There is still conservative religious literature that supports this perspective, but it is less common than before.

There is now consensus that it is damaging to a person to attempt reparative or conversion therapy with him. I am surprised at how often I get referrals of men who were treated with conversion as the goal. However, more common these days than outright suggestions for conversion is the perception of disapproving attitudes from psychotherapists that negatively reinforce a client’s feeling about being gay. Often these therapists are seen as rejecting and uncaring, though I would guess that many of them are actually just unaware of how they are coming across to their clients.

People who grow up with healthy authorities may not recognize that a gay man has tended to the needs of the authority figures (including parents) in his life by keeping quiet and hiding his secrets. Therefore, a client may recreate in therapy a dynamic he had with his parents by remaining hidden. The need to be compliant or good prevails. Therapists need to be on the lookout for such a dynamic and create a tone that implies mutual openness and acceptance.

The bottom line is that accepting your client for being gay is essential. A wonderful description of gay-affirmative therapy states: “Psychotherapy can result in change, although this is the secondary goal to creating an experience of empathic contact for the patient, whether or not change takes place” (2). Right on. Making this connection will be as useful as anything else.

Perhaps the best way to provide affirming therapy is to accept and affirm that you care for your client. Then you find a way to join him in his views and sensibilities. The therapist’s ability to be reliable provides a milieu that aids the patient in experiencing “twinship.” Sensitivity and empathy affirm that patient’s sense of self (2). Internalization of these interactions can lead to significant internal structural expansion and cohesion.

A Gay Affirmative Perspective in Action

You want your client to feel comfortable, valuable, proud about being gay, and for him to know that you are in accord with his true self. You can do this by finding avenues of connection with him, as a person, not just as a client.

Allow yourself to appreciate how you respect him, where your commonalities intersect, and how your differences are intriguing to each other. This way of relating is not didactic, but rather it is intuitive and emotional. Either you both will feel it, or you won’t. There is no need to try too hard to win him over, the way that you effortlessly relate is the win.

Script: Seeing and Knowing You

This script was inspired by a client sharing his difficult experiences of coming out in college. Because these struggles were having an effect on his coursework, his professor asked to meet to offer him support. His memory of receiving nurturance all those years ago was so profound that he describes it as a turning point in his life. Ironically, he remembers nothing about what was said. Instead, he vividly recalls the feeling of being cared for in this special relationship. The lamp that was shining on his professor’s desk figures prominently in his memory. The visual representation of this lamp still captivates him and represents the richness of this experience, even 30 years later.

I am struck by how other clients report similar types of childhood or young adult memories, often with neighbors, grandparents, aunts, uncles, or other people who shared their love.

This script can be used as a reminder that there were people in the past whose nurturance made a lifetime of difference. In addition, I use this script at conferences and with therapists to remind them about having had significant moments like this in their own past.

For traumatized clients who cannot conjure up anybody who provided this type of experience, a family pet or a childhood toy can be used.

“Allow a time in your past to come to you when you may have felt awkward, just a little bit different from others, or perhaps you felt alone. It might have been as a child or as a teenager, and you can look back and appreciate what it was like for you then, remembering the ways that you may have held yourself back, or constrained yourself. You can even assume that position in your body right now.

You can also appreciate how time has shifted for you now, since you are no longer at that place anymore.

Now, remember a person back then who could see you and know you for who you really were, and for what you needed at that moment in time. You can appreciate how it feels that you knew that he or she cared about you, how lucky you were and are to know that he or she cared. This caring person may not have even verbalized the ways that he or she could appreciate you, or the ways that you mattered, but you just knew this was so. You simply knew this by the way the person looked at you, spoke to you, or did something special, just for you. Appreciate the way it feels inside.

It may have been a teacher, a doctor, an aunt or uncle, or perhaps a neighbor who noticed you and took care of you in just the right ways. In your mind, you can see what this person looks like, where you were back then, and what the surroundings looked like back then. You might even remember the sounds or smells back then. That is right.

This person could see you for who you really were and really are, and was able to offer you love and support, and it felt so very special. It was just what you needed. Appreciate how it feels now and assume that position in your body. That is right.”

“If I Can, So Can You”

I provide experiences that help my clients feel alive through my own interactive stance. Near the start of treatment I say: “What you see is what you get.” In addition, I am mindful of my posture, movements, tone of voice and use of eye contact, all to imply an available informal stance that encourages the same of them. This mindset provides gay men with new opportunities. It is met with great relief, especially for clients who have had more aloof therapists in the past.

Clients are grateful to experience this positive energy and it elicits a new way of being: My informal use of self serves as a role model with its intrinsic message of acceptance of being gay. Just being myself has proven to be the most successful therapeutic tool in the room. Again, behind the curtain of any therapy technique should be authenticity: this is what allows for the power of any given technique to come through.

A quick story about my client Thomas: He was raised Mormon and says he envies the confidence of his Jewish friends. Turns out, his therapist, me, is Jewish and gay. I was excited from the start that he was willing to use the energy between us as a part of therapy; it is just how I love to work.

While exploring career stagnation, he describes a scene in hypnosis that suggests a dynamic between us. It hadn’t occurred to me until months later when I re-read my notes that the person he described might be me. It reflects how powerfully the relationship in therapy is experienced, even when it isn’t in full conscious awareness.

“There is a man in the foreground, standing in water. It is some kind of a pond or a lake. There is a reflection of a forest behind him, and the background is green and black. The sun is focused on this man. He is smiling with his head tilted, looking friendly, but strong and inviting.”

Perhaps the sun that focuses on me symbolizes the success he perceives in me, or me in him. I often am inviting him to leap into the depths of the water, either with me, or for himself.

The next excerpt brings Brad back. Here you get a glimpse of what the weave of therapeutic alliance, experiential work, and calling forth the client’s resources looks like in session.

Brad

Thinking about his growth in therapy, Brad is very clear: “Love is wanting someone who truly wants me, rather than my settling for his approval of me. I have been waiting too much for permission from men. I deserve to have a man offer me what it is that I want, and it is exciting that I am beginning to be self- directed now. I am going against the old voices I have lived with for years.”

In exploring ongoing themes, he describes, “When I am faggy, I am faggy by choice, no more editing of myself!”

Knowing how much he enjoys being creative in hypnosis, I decide to embrace his “faggy” stance in a way that symbolizes resourcefulness. I ask him to describe a memory when feeling this way was wonderful. (This was all with his eyes closed, in hypnosis, where he could let himself go more than usual.) He recalls going to the disco in the late 1970s: “Everybody was happy, celebrating their gayness and having a ball on the dance floor, uninhibited and free.”

When I ask which “faggy” song was playing — reflecting back his use of the word “faggy” in a light and easy way — he answers: “‘I Feel Love’ by Donna Summer.” Since we grew up in the same era, we spend a few moments mutually sharing our enjoyment of these times. I continue with this theme.

I ask him to bring this feeling of being free to a time in his past when he would have liked or needed more of it.

“I am in the way back of my parents’ station wagon. This was a place where I would go to in order to escape from them and try my best to feel free from them.” Knowing that he is a wonderful singer, and assuming that his singing will be a powerful experiential moment, I then ask him to sing the song out loud. I am right. It is a powerful and intimate moment. I push him to push himself further than he usually does, and I also participate in enjoying the depths of this intimate moment, one of the more intimate moments in my career.

He begins meekly:

“Ooh

It's so good, it's so good It's so good, it's so good It's so good

Ooh

You and me, you and me

You and me, you and me You and me

Ooh

It's so good, it's so good It's so good, it's so good It's so good

I feel love, love, love, love, I feel love.”

He is very self-conscious, but he continues. It is incredible. I ask him to describe what happens next. “You are driving the car, the music is blaring, I am in the way back and the lights are blinking, like the lights in the disco. We are now at a red light, where the people in other cars watch us.”

He is emphatic: “Turn up the volume, Rick!”

I had turned up the volume by asking him to sing, and gladly turn up the volume again in this important moment.

With tears, he says, “This is so incredibly hard. I want to be somewhere where all of this is okay, and it is right here.”

Experiences Unite

The success you achieve with your clients comes from your ability to join your client in his world. This often feels like a trance state or state of flow where everything else goes away and it is just the two of you. This ability to join involves the challenging task of putting your own perceptions and experiences aside.

However, in a trance state it can feel effortless. Martha Stark describes the tension between decentering in order to lose herself in the client’s experience, while recentering in order to give her authentic self to her client. Though she does not do hypnosis, it certainly is hypnotic.

A client sitting with his eyes closed and allowing the therapist to guide his experience is in a vulnerable position. In these moments, the client is no longer able to reference the therapist’s facial expressions to judge how the emotional interaction is proceeding. Trust is paramount and should be well established before embarking on this type of work, and one should only proceed with the client’s full permission.

The payoff for those who can establish comfort with vulnerability is that therapist and client together have greater access to the richness of the client’s internal world. This happens through joint exploration and joint experience. Clinician and client follow each other’s leads, and at the same time, each takes the lead.

The experience is mutual: a deep state that is creatively assembled and experienced with and for each other. This is interpersonal trance. The therapist’s unconscious mind tunes into the client’s unconscious messages, feelings, and needs. The therapist involved in this trance activity is better able to resonate empathetically with the client, and to meet his unconscious needs. As both experience a receptive trance, the client is also experiencing an interactive, interpersonal state of high resonance. The internal resources of therapist become available to him.

Even though this is done experientially, the experience is processed consciously, and the client not only has the benefit of what came up while doing this work, but also has the benefit of expanding on the respectful and loving experiences within him.

Often, while doing hypnosis, I am aware that I am talking to the child, and that he is responding to me both as child and as adult. Thus, I exaggerate the softness or the kindness in my voice during these moments. The client is often nodding his head, receiving my voice — its cadence and tone — as though listening to a lullaby. Inevitably the experience of being understood and appreciated moves clients to tears. Milton Erickson believed the therapist’s role to be a surrogate parent, and I concur.

The brief excerpt that follows provides a snippet from a much longer hypnosis in which I placed emphasis on being relational and tailoring the session to build on the solidity of my connection with the client.

Bud

Bud was having difficulty moving out of his parents’ home and establishing an independent life. Together we go on a journey, traveling by car.

Me: “And even though I am driving the car, I wouldn’t know where to go unless you gave me directions, because you are the navigator and all I am doing is following your directions.”

Bud: “We are still in the car; you are continuing to drive me past all the dark places. And you know exactly where to go, you know where to take me, I can’t do this alone. Please don’t leave.”

Me: “And you can trust, Bud, that I am here for you, that I am not going to drive away. And I wonder if you can appreciate moments when you sit here with me during a session, and moments when you leave a session, and I am not with you anymore, and yet I am with you at the same time.”

Bud: (Nodding his head) “That feels very manageable, very reassuring. Not so scary. Manageable. It doesn’t feel as scary, or lonely. I can hear you in the back of my mind telling me I can do this; I can manage this. It feels good. It makes me feel like I can do this. I can hear you saying, ‘You can do this; you can get through this.’”

“I Am Here for You”

Earlier I talked about the significance of maintaining a “You can” position for our clients. Another important stance is “I am here for you.”

I say or imply this often, and with great sincerity. It cuts through many protective layers when offered at the right moments. Sometimes I directly say this in hypnosis. If a client is struggling with pain, I want him to know that he doesn’t have to hold it by himself. This is a hard allowance for men who have been denied and have denied themselves the availability of others and of love.

Jason

Jason is a client with a painful history of sexual abuse, alcoholism, physical abuse and emotional neglect. He has learned to quietly excel in his own private world. Although it appears that he is successful and gregarious, and has many close friends, he is actually a loner and keeps himself well hidden from others.

Over the course of his sessions, it is clear that he is doing with me what he does with others, deflecting and hiding. One day I decide to take a big risk.

I ask him if he knows that I am really there for him. Tears come to his eyes. “I am here for you, Jason. And I will continue to be here for you.” These words are magic to him. He continues to weep, relieved and moved.

Later he expressed many times that this was a pivotal moment in his life. “It was the first time I could believe the truth of this: Rick is and was there for me.”

Going Deeper into the Relationship: Dealing with Conflict

When you sense that your client is having a struggle with you, do you encourage him to speak about it?

Do you ask him to describe what he needs from you?

Are there times that you avoid these kinds of conversations?

Do you find yourself giving in to your fear about pushing your client?

How many times has your client had struggles with an authority figure and not been able to discuss it?

Many of us simply prefer to avoid these kinds of discussions and instead stay focused solely on the client’s symptoms and presenting problems. In doing this, we miss out on rich moments. We hope that the connections with our clients provide lasting changes, and that our relationship provides the love of a parental figure. It does, and yet there needs to be more: working through the resolution of conflict is a crucial piece. It adds richness to the therapeutic experience, particularly with clients who stay for longer treatment.

Dealing and working through conflict in the context of the therapy relationship is a must because a gay client’s history with conflict may simply consist of avoidance. But in life conflict is inevitable; now is his chance to move through it in a different way. The question is, will you meet him there?

Whose Fault Is This Anyway?

Apologies and countertransference disclosers are crucial to successful therapy with gay men. The shame that gay clients feel is often manifested in accepting responsibility for painful experiences that are externally prompted. An empathic lapse by the therapist often becomes a source of self-criticism for the client.

I recall once in a group I was leading that I made a joke that turned out to be at one of the participant’s expense. As soon as I blurted out the joke, the group came to Todd’s rescue making clear that my comment was too gruff. It would have been tempting to rush to my own defense, “explaining” what I really meant, in order to save face. Of course, this would have also further isolated the participant and put the group in a dilemma.

Instead, I contacted him immediately following the meeting and apologized. And in the next meeting I took responsibility by reiterating to the group what Todd and I had talked about. It was important for the group, and Todd verified how important it was for him to have me apologize.

Martha Stark discusses “The New Good –The Old Bad;” The unconscious wish on the client’s part to engage the therapist in a reenactment of his internal dramas, with the therapist assigned the position of the powerful parent, and at times the po

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

“Love of the Written Word”

Poem by Irene

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

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

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

Each time I look to the written word.

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

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

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

Each time I look to the written word.

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

I enjoy stanzas, verses, — and rhyming too,

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

Each time I look to the written word.

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

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

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

Each time I look to the written word.

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

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

The Early Therapeutic Relationship

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Having an Audience

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

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

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

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

Writing Stories

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The World of Katja-Writing

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

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

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

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

It did not work!

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

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

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

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

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

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

An Example of Katja-Writing

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

How We Do It

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

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

Effects of Katja-Writing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Katja-Writing and The Shadow Side

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Devil of Rumination and Obsessional Thinking

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

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

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

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

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

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

Applying a Solution Focus

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A Pragmatic Approach to Rumination

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Successful Psychotherapy Comes Down to Finding the Motivation for Change

Peter: Comfort in Food and Resistance to Change

“I have an Italian last name and I always wanted a good Italian first name like Pasquale or Aureliano, but what I got was just Peter.”

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Peter was a single man in his early 50’s when he came to the nursing facility. Until then, he had lived his whole life with his mother, and he was anguished over being apart from her. “I don’t even feel like I’m a separate person from her,” Peter said during a psychotherapy session.

Peter recalled being diagnosed in late childhood with a Rett Syndrome variant, apparently related to a speech disturbance. He had experienced early learning difficulties, yet he had developed language skills and general motor skills. He showed mild autistic features and lifelong obesity. He never fit in with his siblings or peers, didn’t play sport games, and found socializing desirable yet dreadful due to anxiety and uncertainty. His mother and brother did not have detailed recall of his childhood medical information, and his mother simply said, “He was always different, never like other people.”

After his weight reached 625 pounds, Peter refused to be weighed anymore at the nursing facility. He would sometimes request double portions of meals, ordered in fast-food meals, and often requested snacks. Peter would mimic the lectures he had so often been given by family and healthcare providers about the risks of obesity and the potential benefits of weight loss. He understood the risks inherent in his lifestyle of lying in bed, eating, and watching TV.

In psychotherapy, Peter wanted to express his outrage over his mother’s refusal to allow him to return home, yet he was willing to consider her stated viewpoint: she was aging, and his daily care needs exceeded her ability to manage them. He defended his unwillingness to consider any dieting or change of his daily routines yet was willing to review in psychotherapy the information and concerns others had communicated to him about eating and health risks. Peter was also unwilling to give up the style of eating that he felt was a lifeline. He was not motivated to change. Yet he liked psychotherapy because, “You listen to me, and you don’t look down on me, and see some good in me, and nobody else does that.”

Peter had not worn clothes for years. In bed he was covered by a sheet, and when he got out of bed, he would be clad in a checkerboard of hospital gowns draped and tied around his body. The facility purchased a custom-made wheelchair that was four feet wide. It would not fit through any doors, so it stayed against the wall outside his room. Peter would use a walker to come to the door, then edge sideways out the door, and settle into the wheelchair. Stretched out behind the chair, I would push him to a niche at the end of a hall where we could sit for sessions.

Emotional tensions in the case came from nurses and aides who felt uncomfortable with his ways of eating. Many team meetings and individual consultations were needed to clarify and resolve differences in viewpoint and approach. Individual staff persons might try to intervene by refusing his requests for foods, and by hectoring him — ‘you’re killing yourself; you know.’ Peter was cognitively capable of making informed choices about his daily behaviors and his healthcare. Nurses fretted that, ‘I might lose my license if he dies, and I didn’t do something to stop him.’

We had many conversations about the rights of a (mentally intact) person to make choices, even if we disagreed with those choices, and even if we noticed health risks attached to those choices. We spoke of how a staff person might smoke, eat fast foods regularly, text while driving, or do any number of other potentially risky behaviors, and how others do not try to take away your rights to make such choices (unless you live in California, that is).

Peter experienced developmental complications due to a type of genetic disorder — one often linked with obesity. He had a deeply conflicted relationship with his mother, and he had experienced a lack of peer relationships and appropriate socializing opportunities in his life. He exhibited social anxiety and avoidance, and profound feelings of shame and self-loathing. He felt unwilling and unable to endure prolonged discomfort and deprivation to pursue goals that he felt were not his own. But he relished therapy conversations in which he could discuss — without feeling shamed — all the above topics and many others, including his extensive knowledge of TV shows and movies over the prior few decades. He remained obese.

Mykela: Discomfort and the Motivation to Change

Mykela was also in her early 50’s. She had lived for the past few years with her father in his house. She rarely left the house due to feelings of anxiety and depression, and embarrassment over her body weight. She came to the nursing facility after an illness that required hospital care. Mykela weighed 450 pounds, and she felt strongly motivated to lose weight. She immediately wanted Bariatric surgery to assist her weight loss, yet the doctor wanted her to lose significant weight before he would agree to the procedure, due to possible risks and complications. The doctor still wanted her to lose more weight, yet he did eventually agree to surgery after she’d lost 50 pounds which took her about a year to achieve.

Mykela spoke in psychotherapy of her history of depression and its roots in childhood experiences. She verbalized the distress she felt in public when others might mock, deride, or insult her. She wept as we discussed whether she would (dare to) join a group outing from the nursing facility to an apple orchard to pick apples, but she returned more confident because she had endured unpleasant looks and comments without collapsing emotionally.

After her Bariatric surgery, she did adhere to a rigorous diet plan, and she steadily lost more weight. Mykela lost so much weight that large folds of skin would swing and clap against her body as she walked with her walker. She had further surgery to remove skin folds — and rather than feeling ashamed, she wanted to show off her surgical scars and her now slimmer body — as signs of her fortitude and motivation. Mykela returned home, walking without support. She cared for her aging father and drove her car. She became a spokeswoman at the Bariatric clinic to encourage and support others interested in making positive life changes.

***

In nursing facilities, I work with clients who, like Peter and Mykela, have quite complex problems, and who exhibit varied degrees of motivation, or even capacity to effectively make the kinds of changes others might recommend. Peter had felt rejected and despised for most of his life. He did not want for himself what others had strongly advised for decades. He felt relieved, though, to find a therapeutic relationship in which he could feel safe, and he was then willing to look at the viewpoints of others without defensiveness. But he was unwilling or unable to make comprehensive and sustained changes to his lifelong patterns of behavior. Mykela, in contrast, felt an inherent motivation to change, yet she needed the support of psychotherapy to help her connect with her strengths and to foster the fortitude and resilience needed to effectively achieve her goals. Unlike body weight, success is not always easily measured.   

How To Map the Toxic Impact of Social Media on Families in Therapy

Learn how to see. Realize that everything connects to everything else

— Leonardo Da Vinci

The internet in the late 1990s was exciting because you could research topics including sports, education, and entertainment and stay in contact with old friends. In retrospect, however, when working with adolescents at a local PHP and IOP, I/we ignored the impact of Myspace and other social media websites that encouraged cutting and suicide. We attributed the increase in behavior to peer influence and the impact of dysfunctional family relationships.

Today, social media’s algorithms and influencers have more of an impact on the family than we are willing to acknowledge. It has been argued that social media’s algorithms entice family members who use social media to spend more time on the app than with their own family or friends. As a clinician who works with families in private practice and schools, it has become increasingly clear to me that social media’s algorithms and influencers often occupy the “empty chair” in the family sessions.

The “Therapeutic” Power of Influencers on Family Systems of Care

It was evident to me while watching the hearings in Washington, DC a year ago that social media companies will not change their algorithms and will not share them for everyone to understand. The Netflix documentary The Social Dilemma had many former social media employees expressing eye-opening concerns. The film revealed how tech companies hire psychologists to make a persuasive algorithm to increase the appeal and use of their apps.

Unfortunately, Congress appears powerless, unwilling, or both, to make changes due to the powerful lobbying groups. Some have said that Congress is waiting for the UK’s Parliament to take the lead in regulating this industry.

Social media makes money by showing images or comments that their algorithms “say” are interesting and encourage consumers to “like,” “comment,” or “share.” Social media companies have also learned the more divisive and inflammatory the post, the more views and money there is to be made.

Well-designed apps continually boost the user’s connection by showing information, comments, or images that they have discovered are of interest. Showing an opposing view or people from a different “virtual tribe” will decrease the views/time spent on the platform and decrease money for the makers of the app. The app creates a virtually closed system that does not allow any “disliked” information or contradictory views.

If different members of a family “like” different apps, or different posts on the same app, each member of the family may conceivably align with a virtual presence against their actual brick-and-mortar kin or friend. As a result, algorithms have the power and potential to intensify the already-present pattern of conflicts within a family system or relational circle. Disconnection, chaos, conflict, and exacerbation of individual and/or family pathology may follow.

Influencers have always been present in our society. For many years, our influencers were teachers, family members, neighbors, friends, supervisors, actors, news anchors, and other people in our community. We would ask our immediate community personal and embarrassing questions. Many times, adolescents and young adults would get personal and difficult questions answered by building up the courage to approach someone face-to-face in their community.

Building up the courage to ask questions taught us how to manage our fear and anxiety. Navigating face-to-face relationships also teaches us how to manage embarrassment, frustration, anger, resentment, and rejection which is an important step in our development. Non-virtual relationships also allow us to feel emotional and physical closeness that is missing in social media/virtual relationships.

Today, our society is teaching the belief that anxiety is a bad thing that needs to be kept at bay. We in the field know that anxiety is not the problem. Arguably, anxiety is a result of the person’s core belief and/or what is going on in a relationship that will not change for the better. Because of this, adolescents and young adults are narrowing their non-virtual relationships because it is the path with the least amount of risk.

When asking intimate or difficult questions face to face, we learn how to manage proximity and closeness in our family and friend groups. We learn who in our family and friend groups has earned the privilege to be asked these intimate questions. We learn who can keep our personal life private and who may have the better answer, which builds friendships and family relationships.

Social media triangulates family and friends to find the immediate answer and connects people to a tribe that challenges them the least. Many believe decreasing their non-virtual relationship decreases their anxiety, but it actually increases their isolation from their community and increases their anxiety when meeting someone face-to-face. Also, virtual relationships give the illusion that all of these important ingredients are present on social media.

Family members are turning to influencers as if they are therapists/experts with answers (good therapy doesn’t give answers.) Or they are turning to politicians that they must blindly follow (good politicians allow debate.) We know the politicians who are at the extreme right or left posting inflammatory statements get the most views.

These influencers are making statements encouraging family members or friends to pick sides, skipping the process of face-to-face discussion with follow-up questions or reflection that occurs in non-virtual relationships. When a person stops exchanging ideas with their family members or friends, it creates a dangerous virtual closed system.

During my training at the Minuchin Center for the Family, I was always asked, “Whose shoulders is the adolescent standing on?” One year, a family I was working with agreed to meet with Dr. Minuchin for a consultation. Dr. Minuchin said to me after the consultation, “You will fail because the system of care erodes the boundaries of the family.” It became evident that each of the six members of the family relied on their own individual therapists to reinforce their view of how everyone else in the family was toxic.

This taught me the importance of understanding the family map in addition to evaluating if different family members were in coalitions with other therapists, social workers, and/or even agencies. It was an important step to understanding the map and identifying where the coalition(s) across generational boundaries occurred with the family and larger system.

In many of the sessions, other families were able to overcome their symptoms once they began to work on their relationships and change their relationships with the systems of care. It was exciting to see when the system of care noticed their triangulation with the family. Other times it was sad to see how systems of care did not see how they were triangulated against family members.

Today, influencers are present in the family session as seen by the virtual coalitions that the member(s) must maintain as if they were their closest friends in order to be a part of their tribe/team.

The Impact of Social Media on Family Relationships

Families are always ahead of the researchers and therapists, but do we listen to the pieces together as therapists? The following are the themes/symptoms families have discussed in my own family therapy sessions as well as those of colleagues in the wider clinical world. Each of these impacts adolescents, and, in turn, how they impact the adults in their home. On both sides of the relational equation, social media has a powerful impact, and not always for the good of individual and shared relationships.

When one or more family members are engaging in excess screen time from two to sometimes more than six hours a day on social media, the research shows there is an increase in symptoms of depression and/or anxiety. If someone has this much daily screentime, they are displacing healthier activities or hobbies such as walking, sleeping, drawing, painting, mindfulness, and gardening, to name but a few. And this displacement impacts the interactions in the family and community by isolating them.

Algorithms encourage constant social competition and comparison, and as such function as social currency between peers and family members. Adolescents typically feel that they are on stage competing to increase their position in the “hierarchy” with peers and/or parents. They continually compare themselves to peers at school and other families.

The algorithms that draw them in make it difficult for them to turn off the social app and get away from the stresses of adolescence. Jockeying for competition and comparing their lives to others may at times backfire, leaving them feeling poignantly and painfully alone. Again, this constant competition and comparison mirrors similar interactions in the family that can contribute to increased anxiety and depression.

The adolescents I’ve worked with discussed how they feel lonely and alone. They feel lonely when they are not supported or perceive they are not supported by family or friends, and feel alone when they have little face-to-face contact with peers like we all experienced during COVID.

The two-dimensional views people experience when using Zoom as the primary source of connection do not “feed the soul.” There is no substitute for good eye contact and close physical proximity. The irony is social media was created to decrease feeling lonely and alone but actually amplifies it. In family sessions, many, if not all, talk about how they feel lonely and hoped that social media would fill this void but were unsuccessful.

Adolescents typically think they are invisible or always on stage. These polar positions can occur on the same day for any adolescent. They think they are invisible when they are spending more time on their phones not getting enough likes and/or views, whatever that means to them.

This causes them to work harder on their online stories and identities, decreasing the proximity with their non-virtual friends. Many adolescents begin to look for the “genuine” or “real” friends, determining they are only present in social media and not in their own hometown or within the family walls. In the family, these themes are very common when there is already a pattern of disengagement (invisible) or enmeshment (always on stage).

The adolescent also thinks their peers are waiting for them to make a mistake so it can be posted online. This position makes them feel as though they are always walking into the cafeteria for the first time as a freshman in high school. Adolescents are supposed to make mistakes, struggle, learn about relationships with typical external distractions (friends, family, media, work, and politics). But does social media fill the lonely times when the adolescent and young adult are reflective and recoup?

Being invisible or always on stage prevents the adolescent from developing close connections with peers, teachers, coaches, or other family members. This results in adolescents seeking temporary relief from asking a “person” and instead getting information from social media.

Information on the app is monitored by the algorithm and is not as embarrassing or stressful as asking a family member, friend, or teacher. This is where social media begins to enter the family, impacting the adolescent development and challenging their family’s belief system.

The algorithm also motivates the adolescent to seek select information that aligns with their narrow/closed view about politics, friendship, religion, sexual identity, sexuality, gun laws, suicide, mental health, or any other hot topic.

The Atlantic, 60 Minutes, Pew Research, the New York Times, and the Wall Street Journal have done a great job discussing all the different ways social media has triangulated members of our families. The New York Times article on suicide, “Where the Despairing Log On and Learn Ways to Die,” by Megan Twohey, or The Wall Street Journal essay, “TikTok Diagnosis Videos Leave Some Teens Thinking They Have Rare Mental Disorders,” by July Jargon are exemplars.

Social media focuses on the “person” and navigating them to topics they are interested in and picking what tribe to belong to. The information is flowing into one part of the family system and not to the whole family which triangulates family members against virtual friends or influencers. This occurs if the family is already in a state of constant conflict or conflict avoidance. A recent 60 Minute piece discussed how China does not allow TikTok to bring up divisive topics to their children or adolescents.

For the adolescent to decrease feelings of anxiety and depression, they must work for the “likes” and “views.” They will be trying to affirm their sense of self, but many times they will be accused of bragging and will feel they are not good enough when comparing or competing with others.

Body image and feeling unattractive are especially amplified by social media’s filtering app. Many plastic surgeons are reporting an increase in adolescents wanting to get surgery to look like their filtered self. Current data shows that 55% of surgeons report seeing patients who request surgery to improve their appearances in selfies, up from 42% in 2015. They want fuller lips, bigger eyes, and smaller noses. “This is an alarming trend because those filtered selfies often present an unattainable look and are blurring the lines of reality and fantasy.” (1)

When I’ve met with families and these themes come up, I have encouraged them to discuss these themes which have allowed me to see the systematic position of each family member, system of care and the influencer/algorithm.

Every family has its struggles and at times feels out of control when it goes through a stage of what Monica McGoldrick calls its family life cycle. I have seen this especially when a family enters my office as it is attempting to (re)adjust to the needs of their childhood, adolescent, or young adult. Now add the influence of social media to one or all members of the family, the spiraling becomes more intense.

Crisis of Voluntary Play for Children

The importance of free and voluntary play with children to teach them how to give and take has been well documented. There is no substitute for non-virtual relationships in the early stages of childhood. Antithetical to this, algorithms require constant attention, taking the time away from connecting with others face-to-face.

Whether it is the child who requests to go on the smartphone or the parent who gives the child a cell phone in social situations (i.e., play dates, restaurants, long car rides, it decreases the opportunity to negotiate, argue, entertain themselves, compromise, and resolve conflict. This “tech choice” leads to delaying the development of the family and prevents them from moving to the next stage of a family with an adolescent.

Children Entering Adolescence Have Not Learned to Play

There comes a point in families when adolescents are told they are no longer a child, yet neither are adults. For some adolescents, not knowing the initial stages of voluntary and free play puts them into limbo looking for answers. The adolescent and family know on some level they are missing the tools for non-virtual relationships.

First, this is where the social media’s algorithm and influencers potentially intensify the family’s struggle. When the adolescent looks to social media for the answers, this intensifies conflict. Naturally, the adolescent wants to grow away from the family. They want to connect more with peers.

The adolescent in families with intense enmeshment/disengagement and different forms of coalitions struggle the most. This is where social media’s algorithms direct the adolescent to find a group. The algorithm pulls the adolescent in to spend more time on their app, resulting in the app making money and the adolescent searching for connections separate from the family.

However, virtual connections encourage the same patterns of enmeshment/disengagement and the different forms of virtual coalitions. These intense virtual connections are sometimes in opposition to the non-virtual relationships of the family and/or community.

Secondly, this social media generation has grown up learning to communicate more virtually and less in person, especially during COVID. Many adolescents have decided that they would rather communicate virtually. It is hard for some adolescents to look into someone’s eyes, read body language, and feel the energy of being in proximity because it makes them anxious. Look at any lunchroom at any local high school. If the school allows students to be on their phones during lunch, adolescents prefer to spend time on their phones working to maintain a social virtual hierarchy.

Social media offers a prime context for navigating these tasks in new, increasingly complex ways: peers are constantly available, personal information is displayed publicly and permanently, and quantifiable peers’ feedback is instantaneously provided in forms of ”likes” and ”views.” (2). Many of us who grew up before social media can only imagine if our mistakes were on a permanent record and followed us around for the rest of our lives, never allowing us to move forward.

Thirdly, the family does not have a chance to limit the adolescent’s time on the apps because the social media’s algorithm encourages constant attention, reinforces isolation from family and non-virtual friends.

Many parents have approached me saying, “The phone is their lifeline to manage their anxiety,” or, “The phone is the only way they connect with their friends.” During these moments, I have found it useful to explore how the whole family has come to the belief that the social app has become a way to maintain the homeostasis of the family.

A Non-Virtual Family Map

I often ask families about their virtual and nonvirtual family maps. I think it is important that we ask the family about their social media involvement to understand the virtual map of the family. Do families understand the impact of the social media algorithm? Do families know how to get out of the social media web? Do we ask each member of the family who they talk to virtually or non-virtually when they are struggling?

In initial evaluations, I often explore if the family is aware of how many hours they are spending on the social media apps. It is important to assess if the family is aware of how much social media raising/influencing is involved in the marriage, parenting, and sibling subsystem. Some providers want to focus on social media addiction, but the algorithm is not like any other “addiction.”

The algorithm allows many of the family members to covertly — and sometimes overtly — bring influencers into conflict with different members in the family. These virtual relationships amplify the family’s symptoms, and unfortunately today’s therapists use the medical model to diagnose the adolescent symptoms, further pathologizing and pushing the relationships in the wrong direction. This narrow view further sets the enactments, reinforcing the enmeshment, disengagement, and coalition patterns.

Non-Virtual Family Map

It is hard to shift our medical model training from a focus on the individual’s (child, parents, siblings) deficits to one that acknowledges strengths and competencies within individuals and the family system. When individual therapy does not make significant change, families often turn to family therapy as a last resort.

After experiencing this different approach, they often express frustration that they were never given the opportunity to move forward together, instead deferring to the experts for the correct intervention and diagnosis.

Structural Family Therapy was so different in the 1970s and 1980s; it was transcendent. While many new theories of family intervention have reached the mainstream, so too have many reverted to focusing on the individual. When starting individual therapy with the adolescent, I have found it important to ask the adolescent to overcome the algorithm on their own without their parents’ involvement. As family practitioners, we need systemic thinking more now than ever to approach the intense cultural impact of algorithms and influencers.

Below is a “traditional” family map that does not consider social media. It represents a compilation of families I’ve seen in therapy, rather than any one family. The symptoms include those typically seen in family practice — poor school performance, school avoidance, vaping, drinking, and using drugs.

From a system’s orientation, the symptoms are a result of the functional and dysfunctional interactions within the family system.

It’s hard for me to understand how therapists begin assessment and treatment without considering or involving the whole family. Some clinicians might say the conflict is too high, and it would only impact the adolescent negatively. Others might assume from the start that one or both parents are not willing to work or are too busy. Some might even be unaware of the importance of beginning from the position that families do not have the strength to make change.

Sometimes therapists and school staff buy into and reinforce the belief that the child or teen is the problem. In the case of this particular map, Mom “reportedly” goes to her private therapist while the son sees his own therapist. Mom and son separately complain about dad to their respective therapists and to the school staff. When mom and son voice frustration about dad and each other in the individual therapy session, disengagement with dad is reinforced. Mom and son are trying to get the type of connections from the system of care that they cannot get with Dad.

While this disengagement takes place, the son turns to his peers, attempting to pull away from mom’s enmeshment, activating her to pursue more. At home, Dad complains that his wife and son always bring up their therapist who agrees that he is unavailable and/or flawed. When this occurs, Dad becomes more distant and angrier, feeling like he is the odd person out.

When Mom gets angry at dad, she turns to her son and vents to him which activates him to challenge his father about money, drinking, and the way he treats her. At other times, the son may jump into the conversation when the parents interact about money, drinking, or the way he treats Mom.

When I attended graduate school, the common exercise was to map the triangles in the family system. Based on the above map, there are at least 24 triangles that are activated in the family-school-mental health system. The 24 triangles are:

  • The mom, son, and dad
  • The mom, son, and school social worker
  • The mom, son, and principal
  • The mom, dad, and school social worker
  • The mom, dad, and principal
  • The mom, dad, and school social worker
  • The mom, dad, and school principal
  • The mom, son, and mom’s friends
  • The mom, dad, and mom’s friends
  • The mother, dad, and dad’s friends
  • The mom, son, and son’s friends
  • The mom, son, and son’s therapist
  • The mom, son, and son’s psychiatrist
  • The mom, dad, and son’s psychiatrist
  • The mom, son’s therapist, and psychiatrist
  • The mom, dad, and son’s therapist
  • The mom, school social worker, and mom’s therapist
  • The dad, son, and son’s therapist
  • The dad, son, and son’s friends
  • The mom, son, and mom’s therapist
  • The mom, dad, and mom’s therapist
  • The son, son’s therapist, and school social worker
  • The son, son’s therapist, and psychiatrist
  • The son, school social worker, and principal

These 24 triangles are at the same time difficult for adults in the family to appreciate, even harder for an adolescent, and deeply challenging for the clinician to manage. In those triangles within the family where cross generational coalitions are activated, the symptoms in the family increase. I have often been challenged whether to discuss the impact of all these cross generational interactions with the family and whether it is important to differentiate the healthy, less healthy, and unhealthy ones from each other

On top of the above complexity, other questions arise like “where did the boundaries go?” The therapist must keep in mind how the boundary between the family and the outside world becomes invisible and the symptoms become more intense, to the point more professionals are recruited to “fix the dysfunction.”

I have also had to maintain awareness of how managed care’s enforcement and reinforcement of the medical model has influenced me and other members of the community of care, including other therapists, psychiatrists, physicians, and schools. This reinforcement has an impact on the family’s interaction with the son focusing only on his diagnosis and the correct medication, while failing to address the family relationships.

As mom turns to the school and the system of care for answers, things are not changing. She reports that her son is getting worse. Mom blames dad’s aloofness and dad blames mom’s overindulgence. Mom increases calls to the psychiatrist. The psychiatrist adjusts the medications frequently. The frequency of crises increases and the boundaries between the family and the outside world are dissolving due to the interaction between the family and the system of care.

The number of alliances increases between different family members and different professionals as more professionals/agencies are pulled into the drama. Professionals unintentionally begin to write/rewrite the individual’s and/or family’s stories, especially when utilizing the medical model.

With more stories, there are more opposing interests for each family member. This phenomenon between families and agencies is a result of a collision when both parties collaborate to uphold sociocultural trends. The goal is not only to interrupt multiple unhealthy alliances with existing professionals/agencies, but to also prevent new transactions from developing. (3)

This phenomenon was usually seen when the system of care worked with economically challenged families. We now see this also occurring with families of significant means because they can afford an individual therapist for each family member and psychiatrist(s) if needed.

As we look back at the map, it is now easier to understand that because the family has already identified what they think is the problem, it really needs to address the triangle between mom, dad, and son. It doesn’t really matter where to begin. A clinician can enter through mother-son enmeshment and coalition, father-son disengagement, or parental/marital disengagement.

It might also be useful to address the system of care coalitions between the therapist and school with the mom and son. Having the family identify how to change the interaction between the whole system allows them to move forward. It may be a challenge because getting directives from an expert, rather than looking within their own system, is what they have come to expect.

Using a Virtual Family Map to Identify Issues in Families

Before talking about the influence of social media on the family, it is important to acknowledge some of the “players” in social media. The system of social media has many parts. Social media success is dependent on an algorithm, which encourages frequent interactions by virtual and non-virtual friends.

The frequent interactions result in the shareholders receiving monetary return on their investment, the employees maintaining their jobs and bonuses, and the advertisers increasing the visibility of their product resulting in increased sales. The influencers are dependent on social media to reach as many people as possible to receive income from the app. There is a lot of pressure to have an effective algorithm to support social media.

As you next look at a map depicting the interactive nature of the family and social media, it is important to keep in mind that the 24 triangles from the non-virtual map are still present, and the family boundary is already disintegrating with the school workers, friends, and therapists to seek help with the identified patient.

Now in addition to these non-virtual professionals and friends, the family is inviting social media’s virtual friends and influencers to seek help with the identified patient. Clients (and non-clients) often turn to virtual friends and influencers to provide the same connection as non-virtual friends, but these connections are void of physical closeness. Children and adolescents believe a virtual relationship can replace a non-virtual relationship. But all virtual relationships are void of physical closeness in which touch, eye contact, and a warm smile can feed the soul.

The family can turn on a social media app at any time of the day or night and the outside world is invited into the family, increasing the number of triangles exponentially. From the clinical perspective, it is critical to examine what actions (social competition, social comparison, loneliness, etc.) in the family trigger a member(s) to invite social media into the family. The therapist must also discuss how social media algorithms are activating/triggering the member(s) of the family to turn to an app to surf or post an event. This increases the time spent on the smartphone to maintain these virtual friends, non-virtual friends, and influencer relationships.

At times, social media decreases connection with non-virtual relationships and increases the connection with virtual friends and influencers. In the therapy session with this particular family, some members discuss how they rely on virtual friends and influencers more because “they understand me more than the friends in my own town/school.”

The adolescent believes these virtual figures want to listen to them more than family and non-virtual friends. It is important to ask the family what influencers and virtual friends provide that their own family members or non-virtual friends cannot. This allows the clinician to address the patterns and interactions in the family.

In the map below, I do not draw the number of different social media apps, influencers and virtual friends who are involved with the family. However, I do recommend when meeting with families, to draw each app, virtual friend, and influencer to show the number of triangles the family is managing or attempting to manage. For simplicity’s sake, I use one (black) box to represent all the social media apps and one box for all influencers and separated mom and son’s virtual friends.

 

Husband, Wife, and Social Media Triangle

What is the impact of social media on marriage? The wife turns to social media and influencers to figure out how to “fix” her marriage. The wife tries to talk to her husband about what she has learned about marriage on social media. The husband discounts the wife’s attempts to “educate him about marriage.” She eventually gives up on the marriage and “wants to focus more” on her son. She also tries to connect with previous friends and boyfriends from past life because she feels lonely and alone “looking for a connection.”

What you will see in this triangle, and all the triangles which involve social media, is a substitution of a virtual relationship for a non-virtual relationship whose connections are full of conflict or conflict avoidance. The virtual relationships convey an illusion of meaningful connection, but the person(s) feels alone and lonely because it lacks the important ingredients for a fulfilling relationship.

Mother, Father, and Social Media Triangle

Now the wife stops working on the marriage and focuses on parenting. The husband is not aware of this decision, focusing on “making money to provide food, clothing and shelter.” The father continues to feel alienated, disconnected, and disempowered, becoming angry towards the mother and son. The mother turns to school staff, therapists, non-virtual friends, virtual friends, and influencers for ways to “fix her son.”

This fosters more of an enmeshment with son, and disengagement with Dad. The son turns to school staff, his therapist, non-virtual friends, virtual friends, and influencers. Each family member describes a feeling of disconnectedness trying to overcome the feelings of being lonely/alone. Dad voices his frustration, complaining that he is “old school,” and they are “hypnotized by that damn phone.”

Mother, School, and, Social Media Triangle

In this triangle, mom calls the teachers and guidance department for support. She has frequent phone calls with the guidance counselor because the guidance counselor “is an expert with adolescents.” As you can see, dad is left out of the interactions with the school.

After a few months, her son’s behavior is not changing, and mom is frustrated with how the school is not helping her son. Mom begins to turn to social media looking for answers. Mom spends hours on the app talking to non-virtual friends, virtual friends and reading/commenting on influencer’s posts. Mom displaces healthier activities with time spent on social media. Mom begins to complain that the school is not meeting the goals set out by the Individualized Education Plan (IEP). Mom cites information from influencers from social media and the internet. The tension rises between the school and mom.

Schools today are under tremendous pressure to perform. Schools are understaffed, and do not have the mental health training or support to bring in a countercultural systemic approach into the schools despite the money being put into schools after COVID-19.

Parents, Son, and Social Media Triangle

Mom is spending hours on social media looking for answers to why her son is struggling. She also spends time looking for connections. The son also spends hours on the app interacting with non-virtual friends, virtual friends and reading influencers’ posts.

Mom pursues the son, but he only is aligned with her to challenge dad’s limit setting. When the parents attempt to be aligned, the son acts out more. We see the son increase his conflict with parents, who struggle due to their enactment/conflict avoidance with each other on how to help their son. This results in the father leaving and the mother turning to social media to find answers or overcome feelings of loneliness.

When the family interactions are in intense conflict or conflict avoidance, many children, adolescents, and young adults get most of their answers from non-virtual friends, virtual friends and influencer’s posts. The son is seeking temporary relief by getting information and trying to affirm a sense of self.

The non virtual, virtual relationships, and influencers introduce beliefs that are the opposite of the family’s beliefs and further impact the self-esteem of the adolescent. The son discusses what he learns from social media of what “real parents are like.” The decrease in face-to-face communication with family increases his anxiety, depression, irritability, and intrusive thoughts. This also confuses the family of how their family member can “think so differently.”

Son, Non-Virtual Friends, and Social Media Triangle

The son in the session discusses constant social competition/comparison, working for social currency, and thinking he at times is invisible to his non-virtual friends. The son gradually believes his non-virtual friends “don’t understand.” He believes he cannot turn to his parents because “What do they know?!”

The son begins to engage in the same interactions with his peers as his parents and avoids turning to his peers for support. The son begins to spend more time on social media with virtual friends and influencers to seek select information that matches a narrow/closed view, hoping to avoid conflict/interaction. The son then turns more to virtual friends and influencers for answers. Again, this increases his time on his smartphone and increases the family’s sense of not being good enough for each other.

Remember, the son believes there is “less stress” getting information from a stranger, pop culture icon, or a virtual friend than an enmeshed mom, disengaged father, or face-to-face with a peer(s). However, the decrease in face-to-face communication with family and non-virtual friends increases his anxiety, depression, irritability, and intrusive thoughts.

Despite the time spent on social media, the son feels alone/lonely, looking for emotional, face-to-face and physical connection, but does not have the words to express these thoughts to each other.

Mom, Therapist(s), and Social Media Triangle

Dad continues to be absent from the triangle that involves the therapist. The mother attends her own therapy and attends her son’s sessions to discuss what new information she has seen on social media.

She reviews with both therapists what she has learned on social media about new treatment, new medication, and new diagnoses. She advocates with all providers that her son is incorrectly diagnosed, hoping that would help him with his symptoms. The quality of training of the therapist determines their response to entertaining or challenging mom’s research. This may result in mom seeing a new therapist.

The individual therapists and psychiatrists are not looking at how the parents avoid “getting on the same page.” They are reacting to reports by mom about the son’s behavior. Mom and dad are unable to interact differently because they have not figured out how to work together to decrease their son’s phone usage to increase his time with non-virtual friends. The professionals are avoiding addressing the parent’s avoidance!

Mom, Psychiatrist, and Social Media Triangle

Dad is absent from the triangle that involves the psychiatrist. Mom becomes disgruntled with the psychiatrist. She begins to challenge the psychiatrist’s diagnosis and medication recommendation. The psychiatrist recommends if mom is not satisfied with his assessment, she seek a second opinion. Mom begins to look for a psychiatrist who agrees with what she has read on social media.

Son, System of Care, and Social Media

The son is seeing his individual therapist 1-2 times a week and his psychiatrist once a month. He is also spending 2-8 hours on his social app each day. The therapist has not assessed the hours the son is spending on his phone. The app is only showing views/opinions/likes/images that interest him.

The son begins to complain that the therapist does not understand him and challenges his therapist saying, “This doesn’t help.” When the therapist explores the son’s statement, he begins to discuss information from “reliable sources” from social media and influencers. He too begins to diagnose himself and discusses medication that can help. When the system of care discusses reliable sources such as universities and professional journals, the son becomes irritated saying “I don’t want to read them.”

Son, School Staff, and Social Media

Not only does the system of care increase their sessions, but the school staff increase their time with the students. The number of triangles with the son in the school increases between the child study team, teachers, and administration.

The teachers are pursuing him to get his work done — offering to meet him before school, lunchtime, and after school to complete his work. He never shows. The son is seen in class on his phone. Some teachers ignore him, and others nag him. When a teacher challenges the time he is on his phone, he tells the teacher other instructors let him do it.

The social worker is calling him down to discuss his avoidance of work and disruptive behavior in the classroom. Only when the son becomes overwhelmed, he discusses with the school social worker his home life and that medication is not working. The vice principal is meeting with him to give him detentions. The son feels frustrated with the school stating, “They are only doing this because it is their job.”

Son, Non-virtual Friend #1, Non-virtual Friend#2 with Social Media

The son leaves school to go home to continue to work on his non-virtual relationships on social media. It becomes evident that in social media apps, the same social stressors occur online like in school. It is exhausting to navigate being included and avoid being excluded at school and online. The son and non-virtual friends are jockeying for social currency and social position, never getting time off to charge their own social battery.

The son and non-virtual friends stress about the images they post. They are anxious about what the image means to them and others. The son is trying to understand the unspoken rules for posting and the reaction by his peers regarding the image. The son worries if the image appears “authentic” and will help him maintain his position inside the social media group or if a new group be formed without them.

Son, Non-virtual Friend(s), and Virtual Friends

The son struggles connecting with his non-virtual peers. He is not getting feedback from his non-virtual friends about his art and his physical appearance and finds out they have different chat rooms that do not include him. (Remember, he does not want feedback from an overly involved mom or detached father.)

He begins to look for feedback about his art and physical appearance from virtual friends. When looking for connection outside the non-virtual friend group, he states he is looking for virtual friends who are nonjudgmental.

But as time went on, it began to mirror the non-virtual group. Some of his virtual friends on social media become competitive and attempt to increase their social currency on this platform. They do this by making fun of his physical features and his art. This mirrors some of his non-virtual friends’ behavior. The son frantically searches for another virtual peer group that he believes will not activate anxiety by not challenging his views, providing a stress-free venue.

As the son increases his time searching for virtual peers and influencers over non-virtual friends — reinforcing a closed system, increasing isolation at school, and decreasing time to sleep at home. His virtual relationships are now more important — increasing time spent on the app and continuing to strive for more likes and views.

Lack of face-to-face contact with family and non-virtual friends fosters more of a virtual enmeshment with virtual friends. He describes them as “nonjudgmental” and “more accepting.” This further increases his self-doubt and increases his feelings of loneliness and creates a virtually closed system (Virtual Enmeshment).

Son, Virtual Friends, and Influencers

The virtual group is important to maintain when avoiding contact with his parents and non-virtual friends. The son describes his virtual friends as more “authentic” and describes his non-virtual friends as “fake” and “not genuine.” However, some of his virtual friends on social media become competitive and attempt to increase their social currency.

The son frantically looks for another group that is an anxiety and stress-free venue. This further increases his self-doubt and increases his feelings of loneliness. This increases the symptoms of anxiety and depression when waiting for approval from virtual friends saying, “They are the only ones who understand me.”

As the son looks for new virtual friends, he and his virtual (and non-virtual) friends look to influencers for answers on how to portray themselves. Influencers work hard to establish and maintain their position in their virtual community. The influencers are working hard to make money and increase their viewership. The influencers often ask adolescents to agree with their beliefs and recommend products they are selling. The influencers work hard to appear on the “right side” of an issue.

As the son tries to replicate the beliefs of his preferred influencers, he looks for fellow virtual friends that have done the same “research.” They notice the more they make comments in opposition to a belief, it increases their views and likes.

As the symptoms in the family increase in intensity, the members increasingly must decide who to align themselves with in the virtual and non-virtual triangle. The therapist highlights this and encourages the family to discuss and identify the boundaries of virtual and non-virtual triangles that maintain these alliances/symptoms. This allows a family to discuss non-virtual triangles that are underutilized, which reinforce healthy boundaries that benefit the family.

Using Exploring Questions to Make Circular Statements

Much has been written about joining, unbalancing, and mapping in SFT. One of the beautiful ways Structural Family Therapy (SFT) uses language is by employing circular statements to connect the family member’s behavior in the system. When SFT enters the family, the systems therapist uses the family’s own observations to connect their interactions.

It is important today to make a circular statement to widen the lens in which the family sees how all virtual and non-virtual relationships impact the relationship in the family. Below are some examples of circular statements using the words used by each family member.

I agree with you, Mom, that as long as you do not have a voice with Dad and work together, your son will not stop posting explicit images on Snapchat

Dad, as long as you sound like a drill sergeant, Mom will not find her voice as a woman and work with you as a wife and mother of your son who will continue to believe he must mirror images on Instagram

Mom, I agree that the harder you work, the less Dad helps you with parenting your daughter— your daughter will have to turn to influencers about how a woman should look and act

Peter (son), as long as your mom is worried about the frontstage appearance, she will fight with your father who is more concerned about your backstage struggles with you and your mother

What do your virtual friends give you that you cannot get from Mom, Dad, or your non-virtual friends?

Conclusion

Many are worried about the continued increase in suicide, suicide attempts, and mental health issues in the family and how Congress is powerless to challenge these companies. Many providers are not looking at what has changed in our lives in the past 25 years.

Relationships are becoming more complicated than ever. Many families and therapists are unaware of the impact of the system of care and less aware of the impact of the ubiquitous “algorithm.” It is hard to understand how the algorithm works because it is important for these companies to keep the algorithm secret for fear of losing profit.

We must also remember that each influencer, virtual friend, and nonvirtual friend has their own family map. Just as many professionals do, influencers understand how their stories, views, and images echo in the family.

Are families aware of the alliances that occur with virtual and non-virtual friends and influencers? Are we aware that when more virtual influencers and friends enter the family, more alliances increase establishing social hierarchy, increasing social competition and social currency? Are we, the clinicians, aware that influencers and virtual friends unintentionally/intentionally begin to write/rewrite stories in the family and permanently on the internet?

We must begin to understand that with more stories, there are more opposing interests for each family member. This phenomenon between families, virtual friends, nonvirtual friends, and influencers (social media) is a result of collusion when all parties collaborate to uphold their preferred sociocultural trend.

The goal is not only to highlight and interrupt the multi-alliances with existing social media but to highlight the transactional pattern in the home that maintains this pattern. Remember, a virtually closed system impacts all family members, whether one or all are using these platforms excessively.

References

(1) Susruthi, R., Myara, Maymone, B. C. & Vashi, N. Selfies-Living in the era of filtered photographs. JAMA Facial Plastic Surgery. 2018 20:6, 443-444.

(2) Nesi, J. (2022) The impact of social media on youth mental health: Challenges and opportunities. North Carolina Medical Journal, 81(2), 116-121.

(3) Colapinto, J. (1995) Dilution of family process in social services: Implications for treatment of neglectful families. Family Process. 34:59-74.

Questions for Reflections and Discussion

How has social media influenced your personal and family life?

How does the author’s premise resonate with you and the way you practice family therapy?

How have you integrated social media and app use into family therapy?

In what ways do you agree or disagree with the role of social media in family systems?

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