In a Volatile Post-Roe World, Morals and Medicine Clash

Having kept in touch with one of my former clients (EN), an OB-GYN, I (LR) was curious about the personal and professional impact on him of the recent Supreme Court decision in the Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Center case that overturned Roe, and with it, federal protection of womens’ reproductive choices.

While EN neither sought me out for counseling, nor was the following conversation part of a therapeutic interchange per se, I hope that excerpts from that conversation might be useful to fellow psychotherapists, counselors, supervisors, and trainees who are or will be working clinically with medical health care professionals who serve women.

***

Morals, Ethics, And Medicine

LR: I was thinking of you and wondering, as a practicing OB/GYN, how the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn Roe has affected you both personally and professionally.

EN: It's challenging because there's EN, who has very strong political views, and then there's Dr. N, who is supposed to separate his political views from his medical practice — and EN doesn't necessarily care about offending people. But Dr. N doesn't want to offend anybody because people are entitled to their opinions. With that said, as a women's health care provider, obviously my first concern is women's care, women's health, women's access to care, what women can do with their own bodies. And having anybody try and place limitations on that is disconcerting.

In Florida, the new rule is 15 weeks. But there are loopholes, and you can read into it, and read around it; but it's up to the doctor's discretion. I personally don't perform terminations anywhere near that gestational age, but we’ve certainly had plenty of patients who have required it for one reason or another. It's one thing to refer somebody down the street; it's another to have to refer somebody out of state. And we've had that issue.

Typically, when you're referring somebody for those reasons, they're not happy about it because they've already likely been dealt a somewhat devastating diagnosis for their desired baby. Then they have to make a very challenging decision, and are forced to do so in an uncomfortable, unfamiliar environment, likely without the support of their family and friends that they would have at home. So, it's easy to say, “Sure, just travel to this state or that state,” but not everybody has the means or support to do that. There are so many different angles that you can come at which create their own additional set of problems.

LR: In thinking of the last one or several women that you had to refer out of state for pregnancy termination, what were some of those interactions like for you — since many of them, I would imagine, you've had ongoing relationships with?

EN: Fortunately, there haven’t been many, but those I’ve referred were due to major fetal anomalies that were diagnosed after the legal limit for termination. That in and of itself was a tremendous challenge. Most of our conversations were focused on their devastation and processing of the diagnosis — not about having to travel to get it done. I think that part of it was a bit on the backburner. But that was just for them. I think that the more cases one has the more complications that are going to arise.

LR: How did these conversations impact the relationship you had with these particular women as well as you personally?

EN: I don't think they impacted our relationship because they know that I don't perform the procedure anyway. It is a challenging procedure with more risks and more complications, regardless of where you have it. And many of us have chosen not to do it for that reason. I'd rather have someone who has quite a bit of experience do it. So, whether I'm referring them down the street or three states over, they know that I'm not the one who's going to do it. And so, I don't think that has any negative impact on our relationship. It's more just a matter of the logistics of finding somebody — helping them to locate somebody and them having to arrange their plans.

LR: Have you stopped performing procedures completely or just after 15 weeks?

EN: My limit was always about eight weeks. And it's never been something that I advertised doing. It's more if I have an existing patient who finds herself in that situation, it's something that I can offer to my existing patients. There are plenty of other resources. There are plenty of physicians who welcome referrals for it. That's a controversy that I've tried to avoid. But for my own existing patients, my preference has been, “I'd rather be the one to help you through this than have to refer you elsewhere.” But I have my limits also. And that's just out of comfort medically for the procedure and nothing else.

LR: Have you grown more wary or vigilant that somehow, you'll raise attention of a regulating body, or someone will launch a complaint, or someone will hear or mis-hear this or that and report you? I guess what I am asking is, have you become more fearful or threatened in this post-Roe environment?

EN: Not yet, because again my practice routines are well within the limits of current legality in the state. Should that change? Yeah, of course I'm concerned about the ramifications. But like I said before, I try to limit my exposure. I don't want it necessarily out there well known in the community that this is something that I do or offer, because no matter how you look at it, there's a stigma and there's controversy associated with it. And it's just something I'd rather avoid. I want to be there as a physician for my patients, and offer them what they need, and avoid all the other drama that might come with that.

LR: Have there been clients or patients you've consulted with or treated where your political and personal views clashed and were difficult to suppress?

EN: Yes, but not necessarily for that patient's particular healthcare needs, but more so because we'll strike up a conversation and they'll make an offhanded remark, not necessarily understanding all the medical implications. You know, it's very easy for somebody to pass judgment and say, well, 15 weeks seems very reasonable. But the reality is, it's incredibly challenging to diagnose a genetic abnormality, a chromosome abnormality, a major fetal abnormality prior to that time. And so, there are medical limitations to what we can do and when we can do it. So those tests aren't really available and they're not confirmable. You can't confirm it until right around that time at the absolute earliest. So, it's easy to say, ‘well, 15 weeks sounds reasonable’, and patients have had plenty of time to make a decision. That may be the case for an elective termination. But for medical purposes—which once you're extending into the second trimester, the great majority of them are for medical purposes anyway. It's not enough time to make that decision.

LR: Is it the case that genetic anomalies might not be manifest in an observable way at 15 weeks?

EN: We typically begin screening for chromosomal abnormalities — the most common example being Down syndrome — at around 12 weeks.

LR: Tight margin, but that’s a screening test which is by definition non-definitive.

EN: Correct! So, if that test comes out abnormal, the typical recommendation is for amniocentesis, which historically was performed after about 16 weeks. You can't make a screening test any more than it is, and they are inherently designed to have false positives. And so, you can't make a definitive diagnosis and a definitive management plan with just a screening test. And if you don't have the ability to confirm, then, you know, you're stuck. That's for chromosomal abnormalities.

In the case of fetal anomalies — let's just call them birth defects — the first full anatomy ultrasound is done somewhere between 18 and 20 weeks (about 4 and a half months). So, yes, you can see some vital anatomy earlier than that for sure. But not all the structures, not everything.

LR: And neurological sequala of these chromosomal or genetic anomalies won't show up until after birth?

EN: Right! That, there’s no way to screen.

LR: Do you get a sense that this 15-week window was determined after comprehensive consultation with medical specialists or the result of political footballing?

EN: I'm sure it was some kind of a behind-the-scenes compromise, and I don't know who came up with that 15-week gestational age. But, you know, I'm sure there was something behind the scenes.

LR: What about the overflow of the Roe decision into your personal life—conversations with your wife, with your friends, with family members, where the EN who is free to express his political views is not tethered by his professional obligations? How has it affected you outside of the consulting room?

EN: For the most part, the people I converse with are like-minded people. And even if some of these people vote Republican — which some of them do — they’re voting Republican for other reasons like Israel and taxes. And so, when we talk about this, it's easy to have a room of like-minded people, and just get angry, and talk about how ridiculous it is.

LR: In your deepest, most personal place, what has been your visceral reaction as a person, as an OBGYN, or some combination of the two? What has it been like for you since the overturning?

EN: It's frightening because there was always the threat that Roe would be overturned. But most people felt it would never happen, that it was established law. Look, even the most recent Supreme Court nominees would say it’s established law, and yet here we are. So, we all were fearful that it could happen but didn't really think it would happen. Now that it has happened, it's frightening. And then for a while afterwards, it was the thought of what's next? Is gay marriage next on the docket? Or contraception? You know, where are we going here?

LR: So, frightening in terms of what rights would be taken away from women and other groups next—frightening ideologically, frightening from a humanistic standpoint. What about this is personally frightening to you, perhaps as a father? I know you have sons.

EN: This country is regressing. I have sons who are perfectly capable of impregnating someone else. But, you know, we try to teach them responsibility. I don't have any intention or feel like I'm ever going to have the need personally to have a termination. And so, my fears and my anger are more because of how it affects others and because of the type of practice that I'm in and it affects me at work. So no, this is one of those issues that doesn't have a direct impact on me as a person, but I feel incredibly strong about it. And that's the part that has the deepest effect.

LR: So, the most frightening personally is, as a citizen of a country that seems to be going backwards?

EN: How about as a conscientious human recognizing that not all political issues are personal? I have no intention to marry someone of the same sex as me. But I feel unbelievably strongly that everybody should have the right to marry whoever they want. That's not affecting me directly. But that's deep down in my core.

LR: Do you see yourself as an active or increasingly active outward advocate in some way in your professional future?

EN: I’ve always emphasized prevention because I think it’s the right way to go anyway. So, I think termination is a choice. And you've got the morals and you've got the ethics and then you've got the medicine, right? So, from a strictly medical perspective, prevention is better. And so I've always pushed that, I've always emphasized it. But now, I'm doing so even more because while there might be certain limits now, those limits might become stricter down the road. And so, patients should want to be proactive in prevention anyway. Number two, they may not have the same options later. And who knows what kind of access they're going to have to birth control later on? You know, is that in jeopardy as well?

It's a ridiculous hypocrisy, because they want to limit access to birth control; they want to limit access to pregnancy termination. But they also want to limit the social programs that might help with these unwanted children once they're forced to be born to parents who can't afford to have them and don't want to. I don't think I am going out on a limb to say that a solid, substantial number of those who advocate pro-life have somewhere at some point in their life been in a situation either directly or indirectly where they probably needed a termination.

LR: In closing, are there particular patients that you've had over these last few months that have really struck a chord in you and sort of torn you up inside? And if so, how did you deal with it?

EN: How I dealt with it personally is different. Professionally, it's hard not to have empathy. It's hard not to feel for someone who was given the diagnosis that their baby, who they wanted, is not going to survive the pregnancy. And so now they had to make a very difficult decision, and it was just made that much harder for them.

I'm grateful that I don't have that many patients yet who I’ve had to refer out for terminations due to chromosomal anomalies. A fair number of those end in early miscarriage before you get to that point. But it's still there, and it's always going to be there. It's the nature of the field.

LR: Thanks so much for sharing with me today.   

How to Learn from Painful Early Career Failures

A friend's adult son recently returned home after a failed relationship. When his parents questioned him in hopes of understanding the relationship’s demise and to help him process the experience, they were quite discouraged to learn that from their son’s perspective, “she (his now ex-girlfriend) was always on me for not taking my clothes out of the washing machine when the cycle was done so it had to be rewashed or else it would become mildewed.” Had the son been unfaithful or did the infidelity lie with his girlfriend? Was it financial strain? Immaturity on one or both of their parts? Had the stress of childbearing done them in? Or was it, as the girlfriend claimed, relationship death by a thousand spin cycles? 
 

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Since hindsight is 20/20, metaphorically speaking, the story of my friend’s son gave me pause to reflect on a couple I worked with many years ago. In looking back, I regret not having had the confidence, skill, or comfort in using metaphors at the nascency of my clinical career when a couple was referred to me for counseling. And yes, perhaps I should have referred that ailing dyad to a more seasoned clinician, but I was, after all, receiving supervision. In retrospect, my supervisor was very task-oriented, not particularly emotionally focused, and to add just the right pinch of irony, I had recently graduated from a behaviorally- inspired clinical Ph.D. program. At the time, behaviorism seemed like very powerful magic to me, and my supervisor’s cock-suredness provided the necessary added ingredients I needed to help this couple. Ah, 20-20 hindsight! 

The husband had come to counseling with his wife under duress — more likely threat of who knows what. He didn’t perceive anything to be wrong in the relationship and couldn’t — truly couldn’t—understand why his wife was “so damn upset with me” over the chicken.” Ah, the chicken! According to the aggrieved wife — and I am paraphrasing from remote memory, “all he ever wants to eat is chicken, whether we eat at home or go out to a restaurant…I’m fed up!” She went on, “he doesn’t even want me to spice it up!” 

Although my graduate training and clinical supervision at the time blended to offer me what I thought was the right recipe for clinical success, I’m almost embarrassed to admit to what I did in those tense two or three sessions I had with this couple. I attempted (and you probably have already guessed where this is going) to build a behavioral contract which included small steps the husband would take to diversify his poultry paltry palate which would then be reinforced by the wife. God only knows what I cooked up for them in that ridiculous contract. But they were willing customers, and of course, the counseling predictably ended as quickly as it takes to flash-fry chicken wings. True to form and quite predictably, my supervisor lambasted me for failing to create a sufficiently detailed contract.  

What might I have done differently? Well, I might have used the husband’s singular food choice as a metaphor for his desire for certainty and predictability, maybe going as far as he would let me in exploring the basis for that need. I might have reframed his diet as the desire to make it easier for his wife to prepare meals. I might have shifted focus to his wife’s frustration and encouraged expression of what about her husband’s restricted food choice was particularly distressing for her. Or, I might have worked within the metaphor of spicing up the relationship. I certainly would have worked harder to create a therapeutic atmosphere in which emotions could flow freely to the top.  

I often wonder whatever happened to that couple who had the misfortune of falling under my care all those years ago. Did the marriage survive my ineptitude? Did the husband ever learn why his wife was so upset about his unrelenting choice for chicken? Did they find their way to a therapist who was able to salvage the meat from the decaying bones of their frayed bond? 

   ***


Questions for Reflection 

How did the author’s reflections impact you personally? Professionally? 

How have you framed/re-framed some of your early therapeutic mistakes?

What might you have done with the couple depicted in this narrative?

What are some of the resources you rely upon when confronted with a challenging case? 

Victor Yalom on Psychotherapy and the Pursuit of Mastery

Keeping Current

Lawrence Rubin: Dr. Yalom, you are the founder of Psychotherapy.net so by definition, an entrepreneur. But as your Editor, I also know you to be a self-taught tinkerer, craftsman, and artist, as well as a practicing psychotherapist. While I’d like to touch on each of these facets in our conversation, please tell us first what are you working on now?
Victor Yalom: Well, I am always working on many things at the same time. I don't know if that's due to an inability to focus on one thing or just that I have multiple interests and duties running this small enterprise of Psychotherapy.net. 

We're always thinking of ways to provide content in a form that is useful to therapists practicing in the field as well as adapting to current times
One of my focuses after 27 or so years of recording who I consider to be the greats in our field and making training videos, is finally stepping up to the plate and doing some recordings of my own work as a therapist. Just yesterday, I recorded a case consultation group that I led online. This should result in one or more online courses in which I will be teaching some core skills in therapy that I have learned from my mentors as well as from my clients. So, that's very exciting. 
 

In addition, we at Psychotherapy.net are always scouting out and finding experts to be featured in videos. We have a new video coming out on Emotionally Focused Therapy and another on online crisis counseling. We're always thinking of ways to provide content in a form that is useful to therapists practicing in the field as well as adapting to current times. We realize that while people have grown accustomed to receiving video content in shorter bursts, we haven't quite reduced ours to the 15-second clips of TikTok. However, we are producing, for example, a shorter series called Mastery in Minutes that are up to 30 minutes long where we're trying to present core ideas or skills to therapists.

LR: Now that you’ve made this transition from interviewing experts in the psychotherapy field to being videotaped while you personally do psychotherapy, do you see yourself at this stage in your therapeutic career as an expert?
VY:
doubt and uncertainty are inherent in our work
I do feel that after practicing for almost 40 years now, I've acquired some valuable skills that I think are important to pass on that are not commonly being taught by others. It's an evolution because I think like most therapists, even experienced ones, that there's so much ambiguity in our work that a lot of the time I feel like, gee, I'm not sure what I’m doing. Would X or Y expert think that I’ve studied enough to be doing this? What will other colleagues think? How will the establishment of experts, or those who are practicing evidence-based techniques or teaching them in universities view this?

So, those are some of my doubts. But then the other side is that doubt and uncertainty are inherent in our work. I don't think it's a realistic or even desirable idea that we should reach a state of certainty about our work, but perhaps more comfort with our doubts and our questioning, and our realization that therapy is an ambiguous and creative enterprise.  
LR: I hope that the younger therapists who read this interview will embrace this idea that certainty is elusive, and therapy works but sometimes for reasons that are simply outside of our understanding. I understand that you've also been doing work with foreign distributors so I'm wondering what that looks like and what are some of the challenges?
VY: To a great degree, we've been trying to take the valuable, rich library that we've created over the last 27 years and make it as widely available as possible. It started very slowly at first with VHS tapes and then DVDs, but once we got into streaming, it was a lot easier to get it out there widely and internationally.

a lot of businesses have pulled out from Russia, but it's not something I've struggled with too much because the therapists there want to learn
But obviously, not everyone speaks English, so we've partnered with some businesses and organizations overseas to translate our videos and make them available. We have distributors in China, Italy, Greece, Russia, and a couple other countries. Typically, they've simply translated our videos with subtitles, but the Russians have been dubbing them using voice actors as well and so it's pretty simple in that sense, but there are unique challenges.

Our Russian distributors, not surprisingly, are having incredible challenges given the war and the boycotts. We were speaking with them yesterday and they’re actually moving to Georgia, the country, not the state, and we're finding ways to advertise, get payments, have money transferred to Georgia, and then sent here. At least that's the plan.

And with that, there's the potential ethical concern. Obviously, a lot of businesses have pulled out from Russia, but it's not something I've struggled with too much because the therapists there want to learn. They’re certainly not responsible for Putin's madness and butchery. I feel pretty clear that if we can find a way to continue to offer our videos to Russian therapists, that's a good thing.  
LR: That's interesting. I was going to ask you about possible ethical concerns and conflicts, but when you couch it in the context of therapists, whether in Russia or China still want to learn, you are providing a needed service. The therapeutic skills that these therapists will learn because of our association with them will help the citizens of these countries who have access to therapy. I don't know how widely accessible therapy is, however.
VY: Right. It reminds me several years ago, we had an inquiry from some Iranian therapists who wanted to publish our videos there. Let's just be upfront, in smaller countries like that, it’s not really about making significant profit. They’re relatively small markets. But it’s more just wanting what we’ve done to be viewed and used in training therapists. It turns out they were on the list of nations that the US does not look favorably upon. We finally figured out how to apply to the US State Department to get permission to have our videos translated and sold in Iran. But, after about a year and a half, we got a one-page letter that said, “Sorry, no!”
LR: It’s interesting with regard to Russia and Ukraine and the Middle East, that some of the contributors to our websites, some of the folks who write blogs and articles are doing so from those places about some of the challenges of delivering therapeutic services to people who are directly impacted by the war and related political tensions. So, I can see the benefit of partnerships with some of these entities. I also see the ethical concerns. Are there any other challenges when translating therapy into different languages considering that much that occurs in the therapy space is non-verbal? 
VY:
in Russia, they're using voice actors to dub our videos, apparently because that's quite common there as well as in other countries
As I said, in Russia, they're using voice actors to dub our videos, apparently because that's quite common there as well as in other countries. I was concerned about that. It’s so important and that's one of the reasons I started producing videos in the first place—to capture the non-content information, like body language, facial expression, tone of voice, inflection, and all that. I was concerned that a lot might be lost or missed. However, they've assured me that their actors are capable to a remarkable degree of mirroring that of the recording. Since I don’t speak Russian, I’ve got to take their word for it that they’ve done a good job. But they typically offer both, the option to listen to the dubbed version and/or subtitles.

Well, if it's a good translation, then it should work and that's not my area of expertise but just a little example. I recall looking at one of the transcripts initially done in China many years ago be one of our distributors. They were translating some discussion with my former teacher and mentor, James Bugental, who was referring to growing up in the Great Depression and the ways that impacted him in terms of his attitude towards money. It was quite a traumatic thing for that generation.

I came across the transcript, and I don't recall how I did it, because I don't speak Chinese, but somehow I became aware that they referred to the Great Depression, the historical event, as major depression, the psychiatric diagnosis. So, you have to have good translators. Language is very nuanced.

With our Chinese distributor, they're used to presenting videos in more of a weekly webinar format, so they've taken our videos and chopped them up into 30-minute segments that they offer once a week. They’ve wanted to add some live Q&A to some of our videos. For example, we have a popular course with my father, Irvin Yalom, “The Art of Psychotherapy,” and I've done some live Q&A even though I’m not him. I know the content well, so I’ve been able to answer some questions from the Chinese students that hopefully helps make it more understandable to them.  

How I Built This

LR: All meaningful ventures such as creating Psychotherapy.net have an origin story, so I think our readers would be interested to know yours.
VY:
I had the chance to study in-depth with James Bugental, who was a real master psychologist, psychotherapist, and teacher
After I completed my doctorate in psychology, I had the chance to study in-depth with James Bugental, who was a real master psychologist, psychotherapist, and teacher. I felt in many ways that my education or training as a psychotherapist really commenced with him. There was a group of us who learned from him in yearly five-day retreats, after which I formed a monthly consultation group with a smaller group. I call him a master because of his skill and dedication to the work and his thoughtfulness in teaching others.

As part of his work, he often demonstrated various aspects of psychotherapy, including doing demonstrations with us, either through role plays or with those of us who wished to be able to explore our own personal issues, particularly as they impacted our work as psychotherapists, which it always does, of course.

For several years, we kept saying “We needed to get this guy on tape” for the benefit of those around the world who haven’t had a chance to work with him personally. And at some point, I had the great realization that he wasn’t getting any younger. He was 80 years old, so a buddy and I recruited a couple of volunteer clients and secured the services of a videographer to record him doing two sessions with two clients.

Like many ventures, we didn’t really have a goal in mind at that early point
So, we created a videotape, VHS, which was an initial venture in crowdfunding. We actually snail mailed his mailing list of about 200 folks saying, “Would you be willing to purchase a copy of this videotape to help us in our production?” We raised a few thousand dollars, which got us maybe halfway there to the costs, chipped in some of our own money, and ended up producing a videotape.

Like many ventures, we didn’t really have a goal in mind at that early point. It was not my plan to start a business. I just wanted to make a tape and ended up going to the Evolution of Psychotherapy conference, getting a booth there selling some of these and some other videotapes. One thing led to another after that. But that’s the short version.  
LR: If I were to magically transport myself to that Evolution of Psychotherapy conference and interview that guy in the corner with the booth and the VHS tapes and asked him, “Have any idea where this thing’s going?” or “Do you have your next master in mind?” what would he have said?
VY: It was very exciting because Jeff Zeig, who runs those conferences, was kind enough to send out a letter to other speakers telling them that Victor Yalom, the son of Irvin Yalom, was going to be selling some tapes, and if others had some to contact me. I ended up getting a small collection of videotapes, including some group tapes of my father, and pricing them much lower than they were otherwise available, at the price of a textbook or a professional book. Not some of the very high-cost textbooks that we see today. 
  

There was tremendous demand and excitement, so I realized I was onto something. Now recall this was 1995, right at the birth of the internet, so if you were a professor or a therapist wanting to get or see therapy in action, it was very hard to do. There was no YouTube. There were no online courses. And the few videos that were out there were hard to track down. 
 

I realized I had found an untapped need
At that point, I realized I had found an untapped need. I’m not a trained businessperson, but I did learn a bit over the years, like when folks are pitching business ideas now, one of the things they think about is what problem are they solving? In looking back, I was solving a problem that I had experienced in graduate school. Up to that time, I had hardly ever seen a therapist do therapy, and I thought, “This is crazy.” So, I clearly felt there was something there. 

LR: So, an unintended pioneer in a market that didn’t yet exist. A venturer without capital. Aside from the technological savvy that you had to acquire along the way, were there any major obstacles in accessing the masters or getting people to sign on to this “little engine that could?”
VY:
What was more surprising was that clients were and still are willing to be on camera and reveal personal things about themselves
I think I’ve been pretty fortunate. Perhaps my enthusiasm has carried me quite a long way, and honestly, sharing the last name of my father certainly opened some doors for me. I can’t say that was a great benefit in what I was doing at the time, which was doing private practice. Certainly, name recognition is nice—and has some downsides as well—but nobody refers patients to you just because you have a famous last name. But in terms of getting legendary clinicians to return a phone call or be willing to trust themselves with me to make a recording of them, I’m sure that helped.

What was more surprising was that clients were and still are willing to be on camera and reveal personal things about themselves for the benefit of having the opportunity to get some free treatment by famous therapists, as well as contribute to the training of our field. Of course, not all clients are willing to do so, but every time we’ve wanted to produce a video, we’ve been able to find clients who are willing to bare their souls to a wider audience. I’m always grateful for that, and also feel protective of them in terms of wanting to carefully screen them to make sure that they are comfortable with the types of things that might come up and be willing to edit out material that just felt too sensitive, even if they were willing to share.  
LR: That’s an interesting perspective because in Narrative Therapy, one of the goals is to help the client assert expertise over their own life, and one aspect of that expertise is giving clients the opportunity to teach other clients through written narratives or through videotaping. 

I hadn’t thought until you just mentioned it how much value, over and above whatever benefits accrue to the audience of these videos, the clients might reap in being with a master, and how putting themselves out there might give them an opportunity to share in some way beyond the isolated room of therapy, and even truly benefit others who might be reluctant. 

VY: I feel, although I don’t know this for a fact, that some of the clients with whom we’ve worked obtain a sense of advocacy from their participation, particularly when they are part of an underrepresented population, for example, a military veteran or an African American client. We recently published a video series on counseling African American men. You know because you were a part of that. 

I strongly suspect that part of the clients’ motivation in that series was, “I can help normalize this therapy process for African American men who have certain struggles often related to racism, and I want to encourage others who may have similar struggles as me to get therapy and to train therapists in how to better work with this population.” So, I suspect there’s some sense of advocacy and caring that therapists get the best training possible to treat folks that are similar to them in whatever characteristics. 

LR: Having well over 300 video titles, how has Psychotherapy.net kept pace with the expanding demographics that psychotherapists serve?
VY: Just to be clear, yes, we do have over 350 titles now, but we have not produced all of those ourselves—maybe a third of those. The rest we’ve found by going far and wide looking for videos that were out there but, in many cases, not widely available. 

I made a conscious effort starting several years ago to produce videos with both therapists and clients of more diversity
One case always stands to mind. I made a video with Natalie Rogers, art therapist and daughter of Carl Rogers. At the end of the production, we were filming in her house, and she brought out a shoebox full of old VHS tapes and DVDs for me to look through. She entrusted me to take them home, and I reviewed them. Some were home recordings with poor video or audio quality. But I came across one excellent interview of him, professional quality, and finally tracked down that this was produced in Ireland by RTE, I believe it stands for Radio Television of Ireland. Lo and behold, they had the original master in the vault and managed to work out a deal so we could distribute it, so I recorded a new introduction with Natalie. That’s a little aside just to state that we haven’t produced all the videos we offer. 
 

But we have a legacy of titles. And I realized some time ago that we were, not surprisingly, overrepresented with master therapists. Let’s take out the term master therapists, but with White male therapists and Caucasian clients. So I made a conscious effort starting several years ago to produce videos with both therapists and clients of more diversity. So, we’ve been doing that, but I have a lot of catch-up to do. 

LR: In this era of YouTube and TikTok, the consuming public seems to crave products that pack their punch in shorter bursts. Do you see that as an obstacle to your goal at Psychotherapy.net of portraying therapists doing the real and often laborious work of therapy?
VY: It’s a balancing act, indeed. Several years ago, we did a focus group with some of our customers to try to better understand their needs, and that was certainly one of them. Therapists told us they may have a 30-minute gap in their schedule, or they may have a cancellation, and your typical videos of one or two hours in length, often showing full sessions of therapy, didn’t fit that particular need. So, we launched a collection of videos called “Mastery in Minutes” that are 30 minutes or less. They are at times new productions, at other times excerpts of our longer videos with some additional introduction or discussion. 

So, we try to meet both needs. We do try to offer shorter videos, and our longer videos are broken up into chapters. We have some very long courses that might be 6 to 10 hours, but they’re broken up into shorter chapters. 
 

One of our productions I'm most proud of, Emotionally Focused Therapy Step by Step, is the most ambitious project we’ve ever done
One of our productions I'm most proud of, Emotionally Focused Therapy Step by Step, is the most ambitious project we’ve ever done and frankly, I think that anyone has done. We filmed over 100 hours of EFT sessions with six couples and four different therapists over a year and a half, edited that down to about eight hours of sessions and a few hours of discussion and commentary. I have to give my wife, Marie-Hélène Yalom, our Senior Director of Strategy and Product Development, a lot of credit. While she’s not a therapist, she’s learned a lot about EFT and painstakingly edited this down with Rebecca Jorgensen, the main therapist featured in this project. 
 

Obviously, we don’t expect someone to sit down and watch that all at once. So it’s broken down as the title implies, step by step, into many small skill sets, and EFT, for people who know, is broken down into steps and stages. So, you can watch our longer videos in shorter chunks and skip from chapter to chapter. 

LR: It sounds like a real challenge to balance the demand to satisfy the customer but remain faithful to the practice of psychotherapy. From an insider’s perspective, I think you’ve done a nice job of that balance, but I’m a bit biased. 
VY: Yeah, it’s a tension that exists in our field and in many aspects of society, people want short-term fixes, quick fixes. People want short-term therapy. Some therapists promise that. Some approaches promise that, but whether they’re able to fulfill that promise? That’s debatable. I think at times you can convey some powerful ideas in a short amount of time. But to master them, like anything, takes—
LR: Hours….
VY: Dedication. Practice. Maybe some luck, or the right circumstances with the right clients who are ready to make some changes. Other times it’s painstaking, and you may work with a client for years and not see a lot of changes but nonetheless, they may benefit greatly from having support.
LR: How have you evolved in your approach to interviewing the masters over the last several decades?
VY:
I’m able to be myself more and reveal more of myself in all aspects of my life. I believe that shows up in doing interviews
I think it parallels my development as a human being, which is not an unusual progression in that I feel more comfortable in my skin, have more confidence that I have something to offer, and have come to accept parts of myself that I felt uncomfortable with or ashamed of not as only part of who I am, but that I like and feel proud of. So, I’m able to be myself more and reveal more of myself in all aspects of my life. I believe that shows up in doing interviews. That hopefully shows up in how I do therapy, how I relate to my friends and loved ones.

Specifically, in interviews, I feel more confidence that I know a lot about therapy. I have to be a jack of all trades to know a little bit about different techniques and approaches as I’m producing videos of various types. I don’t have the academic background like you do, and don’t keep up as much with the research, but I feel I know enough to ask questions and engage in dialogues that I hope are informative to our viewers and entertaining to watch in the sense of seeing the discussions and the therapy sessions, which are typically featured in our videos as being alive and representing the best of humanity.  
LR: One of the qualities of your interviewing style, which I assume filters into your therapeutic style as well, and perhaps into your personal style, is that you don’t seem afraid to ask hard questions. You’re clearly willing to put someone on the spot in search of the most real they will allow you to have access to.

And that, to me, suggests a certain degree of confidence, and also an unwillingness to accept what’s offered as expertise without proof of that expertise. So, that’s just sort of a side comment for those of who will venture into this interview, which will probably take more than five minutes to read. I think it’s as important to watch your style of interviewing these masters, and the way you hold them accountable for their presumed expertise, rather than just fawning over these masters.  

The Art and Artistry of Psychotherapy

LR: Most of your audience “knows” you through the interviews you’ve done with master therapists and through the cartoons you create for the site, but they likely don’t know that you also work in paint, metal, and wood. I’m wondering how this continual drive to express your creativity has manifested in your own identity and practice as a therapist?
VY: Interestingly enough, I didn’t grow up doing things I considered artistic, certainly not in the visual arts. This all started at a workshop with my mentor, James Bugental. I have a hard time sitting still and listening, so I would draw. I was drawing little stick figure cartoons, one of which eventually evolved into a cartoon. It was a stick figure of a cactus laying on a sofa saying, “Well, I didn’t come from what you would call a touchy-feely family.” 

My drawings were literally stick figures. And when I created the website, I had an idea to put a few cartoons up there, so I hired some people who knew how to draw and took these ideas and made cartoons out of them. And then at some point, an ex-girlfriend of mine said, “Well, you have a very primitive drawing style, you should draw them yourself.” So, I started drawing my own cartoons, and that led me to taking a painting class, and as you mentioned, I now do metal sculptures. But this all started maybe 20 years ago when I was about 40. So, I credit Psychotherapy.net with helping me to discover some activities that bring me a great deal of pleasure. 
 

increasingly view therapy as a creative enterprise
In terms of your question about how that may impact my therapy or show up in my therapy, I increasingly view therapy as a creative enterprise. I grew up in an academic family. My parents are writers. I’m taking another little aside here, but I always had an interest in or fascination with the business world but was very much an outsider, and back then, you know, when I graduated from college, you couldn’t start a business as you can today. If you wanted to work in the business world, you worked in a Fortune 500 company. I tried and I was fired. I failed miserably. 
 

And in the process of creating Psychotherapy.net, which was just a side hobby for many years while I was in full-time practice, I came to realize that building and growing a business is the ultimate creative enterprise. I had an idea to make a videotape, I took that idea and created something from it, and then that evolved to something else, which evolved into something else. 
 

And now here, you and I are having this interview on a technology that didn’t exist when I started this, so getting finally to your question about psychotherapy; it’s an extremely creative enterprise, just like this conversation. A client comes in and says something and you react, you have internal reactions, and then somehow words come out of your mouth and you say something, and it goes from there. 
 

You don’t know what’s going to happen with what you do with them and what’s going to happen with their life. You try to adapt what you do and what you say in a way that’s going to be helpful. Certainly, there are certain approaches that give you more structure or guidance, and those can be critiqued as overly manualized or cookie-cutter, but ultimately, in my opinion, if you’re going to do work that’s at all meaningful and helpful, you need to find a way to enter their world and to do so in a creative and imaginative way. 

LR: And that goes back to what you were saying before in terms of your own personal evolution, becoming more comfortable with who you are in your own skin, warts and all. I think therapists are most effective when they are most genuine and when they’re most vulnerable, and they invite themselves into a co-creative experience with their client. That’s evident in watching you work, at least in the interviews.

You have taken what I consider a heroic step, as you recently transitioned from the man behind the camera to the man in front of it. You did part one of an experiential teletherapeutic interview with an Italian woman. I wonder what it took for you to put the director’s hat down and step in front of the camera and, in a sense, expose yourself to your audience in a new way?  
VY: I feel very fortunate that I had a chance to study with quite talented therapists like James Bugental and, of course, learn a tremendous amount from my father, and then in the process of creating other videos work with and get to know Sue Johnson and Peter Levine and Otto Kernberg and Reid Wilson, and many others. Some I had more contact with and thus learned more from, and others less. 

I feel reasonably confident that I have some things to offer myself and some important things I’ve learned that I don’t think are widely taught
And over the years, like I think any maturing therapist, I have been able to integrate and internalize that into my own style of working to the point where I feel reasonably confident that I have some things to offer myself and some important things I’ve learned that I don’t think are widely taught. 

LR: Such as?
VY: Two things come to mind. From Bugental, some specific techniques to help clients more vibrantly explore their internal world, their subjective experience in an alive and present way versus just talking about themselves. In particular, he taught some specific techniques as well as an underlying philosophy, and numerous ways to deepen that exploration. He suggested that therapists often encounter what he referred to as resistance, which can be a confusing term. Another way of thinking of it is that we get stuck in our ways, whether you call them defense mechanisms or just modes of coping or ways of being.

As we know as therapists, it’s hard for clients to really change the way they adapt to situations even when they aren’t helpful. So, we can help clients explore themselves, but often they reach a wall or there are restrictions in their ability to explore freely, and those could be that they intellectualize, that they shut down, that they focus excessively on pleasing you and the people around them and have a hard time accessing their own experiences and needs. So, in the process of getting them to do this internal searching, as he called it, you hit these roadblocks. He taught ways to help identify and loosen up those roadblocks; that might be a way of putting it. So those are some things that he taught me that feel very vital and powerful, and I don’t think are widely known.

with the advent of online therapy, it's been much easier to make recordings of not just one session, but longer-term therapy
And my father writes a lot about working interpersonally in the here and now between client and therapist in a way that I haven’t seen discussed much in other forms of therapy. How do you use the here and now of the therapeutic relationship? How do you work with that in a way that’s beneficial to the client?

So those are a few ideas that I feel are important and I don’t see discussed or represented in most of the types of therapies that are generally taught. Now, there are exceptions to that, but I feel compelled to teach them. And I’ve been mulling over this for several years now. And finally, with the advent of online therapy, it's been much easier to make recordings of not just one session, but longer-term therapy. I’ve just completed the course of seeing a client for 18 sessions, which we recorded, and I’m at the beginning stages of producing a course that will include excerpts of these sessions, and hopefully of some other colleagues as well, to teach some of these ideas.   
LR: You’ve mentioned James Bugental numerous times as being historically and personally influential in your own life’s work. So, I want to ask you, Victor Yalom—perhaps you haven’t thought in these terms before, but do you see yourself as an influencer?
VY:
I’m proud of what we’ve created with Psychotherapy.net, and I think we’ve done something useful and I’m certainly part of that
IOver the years running Psychotherapy.net, we’d get phone calls and emails, and sometimes when I’d answer the phone, I would get comments like, “Oh, I can’t believe I’m talking to Dr. Yalom,” and I always assumed they were confusing me with my father.
LR:  would never do that. [Note: LR actually did this when first applying for the Editorship]. 
VY: And many times they were. But since you asked, I can’t resist responding from time to time to customer emails. I find it helpful to keep my finger on the pulse of what’s happening there. And occasionally I do get people who know me from the videos I’ve made. Our videos are widely used in universities in the US and around the world, so it’s fair to say that I’m proud of what we’ve created with Psychotherapy.net, and I think we’ve done something useful and I’m certainly part of that.

The Long View

LR: As someone who has had a front seat to the evolution of the field of psychotherapy over three decades, how do you think the field has changed on your watch? Or more specifically, what tensions in the field have you noticed?
VY: It’s really hard to say. I remember when I just started grad school, Nick Cummings, who started the California School of Professional Psychology, and hence the whole professional psychology school movement (we have an interview of him on our site), gave us a rousing lecture about how private practice is dead. This was in the late 80s, and that hasn’t come to pass. 

In terms of approaches, CBT and other so-called evidence-based approaches are being taught much more widely. I have concerns about that. I think that yes, we want to do therapy that’s effective, and yet we seem to have traded on the idea that evidence-based treatment somehow defies this entire other line of valid research showing that the most important elements of change are the therapeutic relationship and client factors. 
 

The research consistently shows that one approach is not better than another approach
The research consistently shows that one approach is not better than another approach. And that may be just a research limitation—there are so many complexities and variables involved. But it’s clearly easier to research treatment methods than relationship variables, and there’s more funding available to research certain types, so there may be more data showing that those approaches are effective, but that does not mean that other approaches are less effective. 
 

So I don’t know what the answer is. I’m not involved in policy making or in formal training programs. But I am concerned about the narrowness or limitations that seem to be taught in many of the clinical graduate programs that students are being trained in. 
 

There are obvious other big changes in the field, the most striking of which is the move to online therapy that accelerated with the onset of COVID. And that’s never going to go back to fully in-person, though it’ll be a hybrid model. I think in many ways, it’s a good thing. It’s going to increase accessibility. It’s going to increase availability. 
 

I continue to do a group that moved online. While I was reluctant to do so initially, it allowed people who have moved or are on vacation or in another town to continue to be in the group. So, it’s better in that way, but you do lose the vitality of the in-person group experience. 
 

We all know of these other changes, app-based therapy, chat therapy, different pricing models, etc. There are problems with many of them, the reimbursement rates for therapists are quite low. Does chat have a useful place in therapy? The good thing, I think, is that it’s loosened up this historic and restrictive idea that therapy should be once a week in the office for 50 minutes, which came out of the idea that people have to get in their cars every day and drive to the office. Well, you know, I was guilty of that as well, in having our staff work primarily in the office. Suddenly we realized, as with all our assumptions, that doesn’t need to be the case. 
 

Therapy, like most every other business, has moved online and is doing just fine. So, in terms of therapy, what’s the best way to do it? Can it be fully online? Can you, when possible, combine online with in-person sessions? Should it be every week for 50 minutes? Should it be some more fluid model? I mean, for clients in crisis, why not meet for 90 minutes or two hours, and why not be able to have email or text during the week? Then you have to come up with different pricing models for reimbursement. But surely, we’re not going to go back to once a week in the office for 50 minutes, and I think that’s a good thing. 

LR: Traditional models have to be challenged and evaluated on a regular basis, or else they just become vestigial.

As we near the end of our time together and this journey you’ve taken us on, I can’t help but to reflect on the passage of time since I was in graduate school and what I have witnessed. And maybe it’s just a function of my getting older, but are therapists getting younger? It seems that therapists are getting younger and younger each day.  
VY: It’s incredible.
LR: They’re getting master’s degrees at 22 years old and within a year, and at the cost of sounding jaded and cynical, they have business cards advertising that they specialize in working with children, adults, and the elderly.
VY: I don’t know if people even have business cards anymore.
LR: Right. We have websites. It just seems that the entire field, both therapists and clients, if not society, is so much more restless, so much more impatient, and as you said before, hungry for quick change. Everybody’s an expert. There are a thousand books out there, 18 ways to this and 17 ways to that. How will Psychotherapy.net survive that seemingly insatiable hunger for more, faster, shorter, and sexier? What will be the secret to your survival? 
VY:
as many of the masters die off or have died already, we try to find clinicians who are doing good work and try to capture that work on camera
I’m not worried about that. I think we just have to keep producing relevant, good content, and
as many of the masters die off or have died already, we try to find clinicians who are doing good work and try to capture that work on camera. That’s what differentiates us from most of the competition out there. 

Most of the online training seems to be done primarily by talking heads, lectures, webinars, and it just seems crazy to me that this is the way training has traditionally been done in our field, reading books, talking about therapy. In every other field, and I’ve said this over and over and over again, whether you’re a plumber, a dancer, a lawyer, or an architect, you learn by watching others do their work. I mean, you have to study and know the basics, but you learn by watching other masters doing their work, your bosses. 
 

You’re in court. You’re in second seat in a trial, and then your bosses are watching you do the work and giving you feedback, giving you coaching. Hopefully, constructive feedback. So, that’s kind of the essence of what we do, which is to show excerpts of therapy in action and explain why we’re doing it. Now, certainly, we’ll adapt. We’d like to do some live events, live webinars, and do these interviews. I don’t know what we’ll be doing, exactly. People talk about gamification and interactive video. I haven’t seen much of that yet, at least in our field, that’s useful. So, I’m not worried about that. 
 

I think the great thing about our field is that life experience helps
In terms of your thing about therapists getting younger, well, obviously, there’s partly a tongue-in-cheek thing going on there, because we’re getting older. I still have this little thing going back to Transactional Analysis, kind of a one-down stance where I still feel like I’m the kid in the room. I’m often surprised, I may be emailing people, I get on a Zoom call, and “Hey! You look so young.” I’m still kind of assuming that I’m going to be the youngest. 
 

But I think the great thing about our field is that life experience helps. Yes, you’re more in touch with young students, or have been as a professor for many years, but it’s a great profession for people to go into as a second career. If you start doing this when you’re 30 or 40 or 50, what a gift that you know something about life, having worked in other fields, having children, having a family, having suffered losses that invariably occur. So, you do what you can with the resources you have, and hopefully those grow over time. 

LR: Kicking and screaming in some cases. I think that’s it for me for now, Victor. Do you have any last thoughts or questions you want to ask me or reflections on how our time together went for you?
VY: It’s been a pleasure working with you over the last several years, Larry. In terms of this conversation, what I’ve tried to do is to respond in the moment to thoughts or feelings that come up as we’ve been talking.

I’ve done a number of these interviews, we’ve been on podcasts, and I just realized it’s easy to start telling the same stories over and over again. It’s an interesting phenomenon. And if you think about therapy, it’s easy for clients to do that. They tell a story about the losses they’ve had or the disappointments they’ve had, and it’s important for them to convey that to you. But as Frieda Reichmann has allegedly said, “Patients need an experience, not an explanation.”

It’s strange and honorable, and at times a captivating and rewarding profession to be able to sit with clients and enter their world
I don’t know if I’ve said anything new. Hopefully, I’ve conveyed some ideas that someone will find interesting. As I reflect on our conversation, the one thing that stands out is when you asked me about my own evolution and I talked about becoming more comfortable with myself and things that I was uncomfortable with, and I used the words “ashamed of.” That felt like one moment where I said something I don’t think I’ve said before.

I’m sure it’s true for all of us. We have things about ourselves that we don’t feel good about or feel ashamed of or feel vulnerable around. And it’s also true that those, in general, for me, are much more contained and more in the past, and I’m grateful for that.

As I say that, it makes me think about the work of a therapist and the work we do with clients to really cherish and embrace the idea that everyone has this unique world inside of them, and sometimes that world is extremely painful and chaotic. Sometimes that world is just chugging along and doing okay, and sometimes that world is expansive and exciting. It’s strange and honorable, and at times a captivating and rewarding profession to be able to sit with clients and enter their world and see what help we can be to them in navigating their life’s journey.  
LR: From my perspective, and as I prepared for this interview, I was acutely aware that our relationships these past five years have evolved. And as I became more comfortable in my space in our relationship, I’ve come to feel more confident, not just in my role as Psychotherapy.net’s Editor, but also in my own skin. I think every good relationship, whether it’s therapeutic or not, is a growth opportunity, whether it’s inside of a therapy room or not.

And I wasn’t looking for this interview to be a growth opportunity per se. I wanted to offer you something interesting; how do I ask interesting questions when you’ve been asked so many similar questions before? There was a part of me that wanted to ask interesting enough questions to interest you, to please you. I wanted, and perhaps still do want, to be interesting, relevant. Perhaps even more so after having retired from the university. I wanted to honor what you’ve done, and I wanted to also provoke you when I could without unnecessarily doing so. I wanted to create, I guess, as in therapy, a safe space where sharing could happen.

This was different from some of the other interviews that I’ve seen conducted with you. I sensed an even greater level of vulnerability, especially in that comment you made about shame, and I was very impressed with your willingness to share that. So, before we sign up as the first two members of the mutual admiration society, I’ll say goodbye and thank you again for welcoming us into your space.  
VY: Well, thank you very much, Larry. It’s been a wonderful and enriching conversation. 

Self-Esteem is Overrated. Here’s Why Self-Compassion is Better

  

For decades, hordes of psychologists and those of similar ilk and inclination, have preached the gospel of self-esteem as the agreed upon hallmark of sound good mental health. Admittedly, haven’t most of us been persuaded by the cogency and utility of this lionized concept? Its strongest advocates boast that it is the lone-star indicator of psychological and emotional health. Can you think of any other sole criterion of mental health that has the same gutsy, enveloping reach? But what exactly is self-esteem and how is it best achieved? In short, most would likely agree that’s a global assessment that yields a zero-one type metric — an either-or proposition. Simply, the esteem I have for myself is either “good” or “bad.” 
 
 

Those of our clients who are fortunate enough to have “good self-esteem" are to be admired and emulated while those who don’t have it are in need of psychological repair. Not surprisingly, low self-esteem is “transdiagnostic,” meaning its threads run throughout the fabric of many mental disorders. Still, how do we help our clients achieve it? Are there evidence-based methods for acquiring it? To me, and other critics, there is one big, seemingly obvious question ominously hovering over the traditional concept of self-esteem — shouldn’t one’s self-appraisal reflect the reality of one’s uneven and multifaceted development, which is rarely if ever, binary, and vastly more complicated and nuanced? Of equal concern; if one’s self-evaluations are too dichotomous, too rigidly black or white, cognitive inflexibility could easily upset the proverbial emotional applecart. 
 

One in 76 Trillion

Besides being problematically binary in concept and application, the conventional notion of self-esteem faces another problem in that it subsists upon a steady diet of interpersonal comparisons; in short, it “makes its living” on “I’m better (or less) than you — I’m special (or not).” One must see themself as set apart in some way, above average — where mediocrity is decried and even anathema. Imagine complimenting a friend by saying, “Good job! That was so average!” Further, all our clients can’t be above average; this is statistically illogical. However, whether they like it or not, their judgements of “better” or “worse” are entwined in the minefield of interpersonal politics and deeply embedded in everyday social commerce. Moreover, this “who is better, me or you,” juggernaut can be so thoroughly baked into their thinking that it steamrolls everything in its path. And clients are not always fully aware they’re doing it. Commonly, without a speck of thought, their esteem for themselves instinctively balloons when others praise them, and conversely, their egos deflate with the explosive speed of a pricked balloon the instant they are targeted with criticism or perceive any one to be more attractive socially, physically, professionally, financially, or otherwise.  
 

Further, self-esteem can have an insatiable appetite that feeds upon an unending influx of accolades, the conspicuous trappings of social success — e.g., prestigious professions, high-paying jobs, big homes, luxury cars, and the like. Measured in these terms, the warm glow of success is rarely permanent and must be continuously re-lit, just as a healthy economy thrives upon never-ending consumerism.  
 

Of course, this familiar business of making comparisons flourishes across an expanse of social functions and activities of every kind both formal and informal. Classic example: On the sports field, scorekeeping is a precise and indispensable numerical gauge of the competition among individuals or teams — a comparison of athleticism. Imagine gauging the degree of sportsmanship or fun with the same precision. However, consider the plausible illegitimacy of making person-to-person comparisons from another perspective, one conducted on the larger “playing field” of our everyday lives. To explain, statisticians have calculated the probability of genetically duplicating any one of us is one in 76 trillion (the exception is homozygous or identical twins). Nature has gone to great lengths to ensure each of us is genomically unique. Given our uniqueness, should person-to-person comparisons be regarded as a valid metric?  
 

Granted, many of our clients make comparisons and for a variety of reasons, but isn’t it arguably more legitimate to make a “me-to-me” rather than a “me-to-you” comparison given that each of us has a unique set of genes — not to mention, a unique history of experience and learning which are even more individualizing? By this logic, none of us occupies the same exact “playing field.” For instance, compare two distinct types of self-dialogue: “I did better this time than I did the last time — maybe I’m improving” (a me-to-me” comparison more akin to the reasoning of self-compassion). As opposed to this, “I did better than John…but will I do better next time” (a me-to-you comparison more akin to the reasoning of self-esteem). 

The Ideal Self vs. The Real Self

Carl Rogers dubbed the terms “ideal self” and “real self” to mean the person we would like to be, in contrast to the de facto person we are, respectively. In sync with Roger’s reasoning, self-esteem is tightly bridled to our aspirations. Our clients (and we, their therapists) are indeed aspiring creatures who set goals which, by contrast, differ from who they are, or what their abilities are, or what they currently possess. However, this chasm between what they would like to become or attain verses what they have attained, generates tension, and often desensitizes them to any fulfillment stemming from our past accomplishments. Or worse, it can discourage or even disable them by fomenting a crippling, demotivating discontent with themselves. And we often see the fruits of this painful labor in our clinical sessions, particularly with depressed and anxious clients. 

Maybe at their best, these same tensions create a “deficit motivation” that can energize goal-directed action. Certainly, many assume this deficit motivation or tension-filled chasm is necessary to mobilize our clients to take actions in pursuit of their goals. Again, however, the opposite often occurs, and they can become discouraged as their esteem is hinged to the achievement of the next success or accolade. But at their worst, unrealized goals, especially chronic ones, can breed a sense of failure leading to despair and self-contemptuousness. Despite all the homage we pay it, self-self-esteem has a discernable dark side: It promotes all or nothing, either or, forced choice self-evaluations, coupled with its “who’s better than who,” social comparisons and its insatiable appetite for unending social success, all of which may be self-esteem’s kryptonite. Fortunately, research on self-compassion, even amid personal failings, can spawn strong motivation that can be used in the pursuit of our goals without self-esteem’s clear pitfalls.  


Conspicuous vs. Inconspicuous Outcomes

Self-compassion, on the other hand, delivers all the benefits of self-esteem without its cognitive rigidity, its “either or’s” and “better than’s.” For example, self-compassion is not an either you have it, or you don’t proposition. In fact, it’s not an evaluation, or a comparison, nor is it contingent on fleeting social success. Instead, it is a deeply non-judgmental love relationship with the self for who and how I am. Further, this affirming self-approbation promotes how I am like others, not set apart from them. This sense of similarity and belonging is strongly correlated with feelings of well-being and is served with a healthy topping of deepening self and other understanding and forgiveness. Thus, self-compassion’s enrichments are not characterized by the usual metrics of success, the conspicuous outcomes we expect or hope for, but the inconspicuous ones as measured by a stable, enduring, and positive relationship with oneself.  
 

For example, consider this episode of “personal failing” couched within several subtle but far-reaching successes: As an adolescent, my son loved to play baseball. Once during a championship playoff, he struck out in the bottom of the ninth with two men on base with his team behind two to four. Had he hit a homerun or even a base hit, his team might have won a critical game with a dramatic comeback — a conspicuous outcome of success. But as is often the case, it didn’t happen, and my son was devastated. Days after the game, once his acute frustration and self-disappointment had softened, I surprised him by telling him I was proud of his unflinching determination and courage at home plate where he had made his best effort to hit the ball, despite the enormous personal and team pressures on him and that he had done this in the face of an uncertain outcome. I told him these were the inconspicuous outcomes or successes that had escaped his recognition and that of the crowd of spectators (mostly other moms and dads). I tried to explain that these qualities defined success in broader terms and were the very ones that would serve him best over time, even more than a self-exalting memory of a heroic hit. I remember thinking at the time, I hope I’ve planted a seed of self-compassion in my son’s fourteen-year-old brain that will germinate, even flourish into his adulthood 
 

A Quick Recipe for Self-Compassion

When genuinely “friending” others, aren’t we, and our clients in particular, unconditionally accepting, warm, supportive, respectful, and generous with praise, understanding and encouragement? The answer is unequivocally yes. Now, simply by reversing the flow of this patently compassionate prescription and dosing themselves with it, our clients have an excellent recipe for self-compassion. So, quiz them by asking these pertinent questions: Are you as compassionate to yourself as you are to your friends? Specifically, can you turn inward to your own internally siloed resources for self-compassion and reliably draw upon them to nurture and uplift yourself, especially during times of personal stress? Further, are you more likely to criticize than to praise and accept yourself? Similarly, are you as quick to exonerate yourself for your inevitable missteps and shortcomings as you are ready to forgive your friends? 
 

I am a true believer, a devout but amateurish practitioner/proselytizer of self-compassion in both my professional and personal life. I’ve found self-compassion to be a challenging but worthy lodestar that very gently nudges me and my clients upward to the highest quality of self-care and love. When self-compassion is most needed, it can be elusive, difficult to access or apply. Here is another personal example to further explain what I mean: I treated a severely abused adult survivor of intense and chronic early childhood trauma. Sadly, her symptoms would peak and trough unpredictably and, all too often, would overwhelm her diminished abilities to regulate her emotions. During one never-to-forget session, after making what I thought was a kind, empathic comment, the patient suddenly erupted in a firestorm of crude expletives, dropping the “F-bomb” repeatedly throughout her intense diatribe. All this full-throated venom was launched at me because I had inadvertently jabbed at a raw, and extremely sensitive psychological nerve.  
 

While under attack, the sheer volume and malicious content of her verbal salvos made them especially transmissible, and I was instantly infected with deep self-doubt about my professional abilities. For what felt like a brief eternity I agonized in recriminating self-interrogation: “Had I committed a ‘clinical crime’ of some type. Had my clinical clumsiness harmed my patient?” For a painfully embarrassing moment, I convinced myself that other clinicians never find themselves in these same indignant circumstances; they don’t make the same mistakes.  
 

Almost as quickly as it had started, my patient's fury ended with a remorseful, “I'm really sorry, I just go crazy sometimes.” With her contrite admission, my abrupt and steep dive into self-reproach was replaced with a moment of mutually felt awkwardness while we stared at each other as if to say, “So, what do we do now?” Mercifully, her sincere apology, combined with my prior efforts to learn self-compassion, sped the retrieval of my professional composure, despite the maelstrom of emotion we'd both just endured. Before the session was over, I was fully recovered and back to the business of trying to accurately empathize. Most importantly, I awoke to the fact that my first negative reactions were self-esteem based they were the regrettable by-products of comparing myself to a nonexistent, illusory ideal clinician. You know, the one who is always unerring, competent, confident, and who never reacts, or in this case, overreacts to their emotionally dysregulated patient. 
 

                                                                 *** 
 

A much-welcomed calm began to settle back over me. Practicing self-compassion had worked (I acknowledge that it came easier following her apology). I pictured myself digging out from under a needless and self-imposed misadventure of being buried alive in the debris of self-condemnation. Further, I focused on my therapeutic intentions and how they had been benevolent and forced myself to remember that all therapists make mistakes. With these efforts, empathy for myself rose, like Lazarus from the dead. But self-empathy came first, a necessary precursor followed by a revival of my empathy for my patient in that order. It's cliche but still valid to say, relationships require work, but the relationship with our self-compassion is the one needing the greatest amount of never-ending work. And when done well, it can change how we view others, even “difficult others.” In fact, we may be no more compassionate to others than we are compassionate towards ourselves. I highly recommend it. 
 

 

Final Questions for Thought 
 

How important is the concept of self-esteem in your own clinical work? 
 

How did the author’s argument “sit with you” regarding the concept of self-esteem? 
 

In what ways does the concept of self-compassion resonate with you personally? Professionally? 

Improving Your Clinical Presence with Receptivity and Gratitude

Suggested Tips for Clinicians: 

  • Practice methods for strengthening your therapeutic presence.
  • Ask yourself if you are or are not empathically attuned with each client.
  • Explore barriers to full presence and empathy with more challenging clients.

 

A capacity crowd in the large conference hall rose to its feet in applause. Daniel Siegel, renowned author, clinical professor of psychiatry at the UCLA School of Medicine and Executive Director of the Mindsight Institute, had finished his presentation. I too stood with enthusiastic appreciation, not only for this lecture, featuring the clinical significance of therapists’ mindfulness, but for all the ways his research and writing about developmentally informed parenting, neuroplasticity, and the incorporation of science into the practice of psychotherapy. All of these had influenced my thinking and work over the past ten years.   
 

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Dan had begun to move away from the podium when he seemed to catch himself and walked back to centerstage. He stood, fully facing the hall, hands clasped in front, nodded his head and bowed. For our part, the applause of several thousand therapist attendees showed no sign of relenting. Then an event unfolded I have carried with me since. 


It began with the simplest of gestures. Dan took and held Tadasana, a standing yoga pose. His feet parallel and facing forward, Dan released his fingers, opening his hands which moved to the sides of his legs, palms open, shoulders relaxed as he appeared to empty himself and stand receptive before the crowd.  
 

The audience responded with delight and gratitude at this embodied receptivity. The volume of the applause rose, and Dan, smiling gently, took a deep breath. The crowd responded again. Waves of mindful presence, enthusiasm and gratitude rolled through the large hall back and forth, until Dan took a final bow and joined the crowd he had just helped to unify.  
 

Gratitude is amplified by its reception. Reception is its own expression of gratitude. A feedback loop, formed by gratitude and receptivity, generates a mindful, compassionate field that feels very much like love.  
 

Tears rolled down my professional cheeks. I quickly brushed them away hoping the strangers around me noticed neither my intense emotion nor its expression. Unleashed by the power of that loving field, my tears flowed freely and powerfully, apparently straining for release. I felt seen, heard, and appreciated. I was included, a true part of this collegial, communal event. There was a transcendent quality in which this loving field was not so much being created but being acknowledged as existing before this moment. All of us stumbled into an awareness of a much larger and enduring field of love.   
 

I was awed by the immediacy and goodness of the human family. But it was an ecstasy undifferentiated from loss and longing. My tears expressed my grief at how seldom I had been aware of my presence in such a space. Having often felt unseen, unheard, and unappreciated, I suddenly experienced a sense of loneliness and despair of enduring connection. The pangs of longing and the shame of my dissatisfactions with self and others were ignited by my embrace of this mass symbiosis. Yet, there was also relief at the quenching of my childhood thirst for an uninhibited expression of mutual affirmation and solidarity.   
 

In the religious experiences of my young adulthood as a youth minister, a shared faith and religious ritual turned what might have been merely an experience of communal intimacy into an encounter with the metaphysical. My peers and I tasted, not merely the immediate experience, but elements of a universal interconnectedness: with one another, with the Church, and even, it seemed, with God.     


As I grew older and my religiosity subsided, the felt importance of that faith and my need to participate in a loving field never waned. If Dan Siegel had continued off stage to privately appreciate the applause, he may very well have experienced a profound sense of what his work meant to us, he may have been moved to tears and even been motivated to write another great text, but his personal experience of appreciation and inspiration would not have generated the mindful, compassionate field of love we all shared. To generate such a field, he had to turn around and move back to the edge of the stage, putting himself on display. He needed to make the mindful choice to allow his body to express his emotional state, ultimately taking a posture of reception easily understood by the community before him.  
 

As an audience member, I too had a role in creating the moment. While Dan closed his presentation, I might have remained seated, turned to a neighboring attendee and, in a relatively hushed tone, remarked upon an outstanding insight or application. My neighbor may have responded with her own insight and drawn my attention to aspects of the presented theories elucidating my thinking. This might all have had a positive impact on my practice, but none of it would have generated the field of love.   
 

 All of us that day physically manifested our emotional reaction by standing, applauding loudly, and maintaining focus on Dan. We allowed his gestures to carry meaning and translated that meaning into action with vocalizations of delight and even louder applause.  
 

After any professional conference I strive to identify the clinical application of what I have learned, knowing that for me to retain information I need to utilize it. While I came away from that conference with much information, it was this personal, emotional experience that I most wanted to incorporate into my life and work.  
 

But where would this powerful manifestation of gratitude and receptivity play out in the consultation room? Although, as a psychotherapist I am sometimes the recipient of heartfelt expressions of appreciation, I have never received a standing ovation. Nor do I often feel deserving or desirous of one! The emotional waves of gratitude between therapist and client are smaller and quieter and, as a possible result, the loving field we generate is more easily dismissed or completely overlooked.  
 

It is a process that unfolds in many sessions. It unfolds with the subtlety of a raised brow, a silence, the slightest of gestures. It is carried by a word, a smile, a tear. We know it as empathic attunement and the creation of a therapeutic space. It is enacted when a client experiences acceptance in response to long held shame. I wonder how open my stance is in receiving such gratitude. Does the client feel my reception and the gratitude I feel for their gracious expression?  
 

Recently, in a relational-process group I co-facilitate with my colleague Aisha Mabarak, a field of love made a surprising appearance. Sheila* arrived late due to complications at her job that held her past the end of her shift. She reported being exhausted and ill-prepared to share her feelings with the group. 


“I’m in a fog,” Sheila said with an uncharacteristically flat tone. I responded by thanking her for making it to the session and affirming her inclination to take a restful, though present, pose. Aisha, however, had a different approach. Not wasting any time, she asked: “Sheila, why don’t you share with the group a little more about this fog you feel stuck in?”  
 

Sheila proceeded to describe, with increasing emotional range, how deadened she felt by a sense of invisibility in multiple facets of her life. Examples spilled forth of her efforts to meet the needs of others only to be met with thoughtlessness and a glaring absence of gratitude from family members, friends, colleagues, and bosses.  
 

Other group members expressed empathy and support. One member voiced these sentiments succinctly, saying that she felt Sheila’s pain and she was, at that moment, imagining how hurtful and difficult it must be to feel so unappreciated by people who care for you. In approximately fifteen minutes Sheila had gone from a depression-based brain fog to expressing her anger and upset assertively, leading to smiling and expressions of appreciation for her fellow group members.  
 

My inclination to support Sheila by giving her space was intended to express, both to her and to the group, that it was acceptable to feel your pain in session and to choose to set self-protective boundaries. This intervention may have been simply wrongheaded, or it may have, by reminding members of their autonomy, laid the foundation for co-facilitator Aisha’s fruitful follow-up. While I had responded to Sheila’s verbal communication and her depressed presentation, Aisha responded to another expressed impulse—this one non-verbal.  


Sheila expressed her impulse to participate in the group by showing up and letting us know how bad she felt. Rather than disappearing off stage, a space she was also entitled to occupy, she had moved her body to a visible place. Rather than closing herself off, she showed us how she felt, as Daniel Siegel had opened his hands and exposed his palms.  


Aisha’s response might be analogous to the convention applause. This applause was an essential welcoming saying: “Sheila, your sadness, hurt, embarrassment and anger are all welcomed here!” Group members said: “This is your group! Take the time you need. We are here for you. We see you. We hear you.”  


Hearing and feeling this welcoming presence, Sheila responded at first with tears, then with expressions of anger and ultimately with smiles and the laughter of gratitude for the group’s support. The faces of the other members lit up with warmth and solidarity.  
 

*** 


Facilitating such moments of conscious gratitude and receptivity is something I try to bring to all my sessions. Of critical importance is my understanding that my role in this regard is that of facilitator, not creator. It is a powerful, organic experience that can only be had within the context of a collaborative effort. Daniel Siegel, for all his talents and wisdom, could not create that field of love by himself. Nor could the audience of thousands of therapists, even if they were consciously working in unison to do so!  


As a therapist, my receptivity to gratitude only increases the availability to the client of a mindful, compassionate field. A field, that I argue, has the healing qualities of love.  
 

While love is not “all we need” in the consultation room, it is a quality of human experience necessary to both healing and health.  

 

*This client’s name has been changed.  

How to Overcome Self-Doubt as a Therapist

“Steve, I’ve decided to stop talking to Marc,” said Sheila, starting the session without the usual pleasantries. I could hardly contain my excitement. 
 

I had been working with Sheila for two years, attempting to help her develop a sense of self-worth. She had been in and out of multiple abusive relationships and thought very poorly of herself. This was despite having two master’s degrees, a rewarding career, and being highly attractive (all societal markers of success). 
 

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Sheila had permitted Marc to enter her life and erode what little self-confidence she had left in the wake of the abuse she had suffered prior to meeting him. She complained of his manipulation tactics and how he had recently “gotten a prostitute pregnant behind my back.” I was ecstatic that she was finally standing up for herself. 


I decided to follow up with a Rogerian type of approach. I feared that questioning might be too confrontational. Instead, I wanted Sheila to reflect on where she got her courage from to finally cut Marc off. Secretly, I wanted to be praised for being a world-class therapist. I wanted to hear that our work had paid off and that she felt stronger. So insecure and immature of me, right?! 


“Say more about that,” I gently nudged. “Well, my psychic told me not to do it,” she replied flatly. Two years of weekly 45-minute sessions invalidated by a single 15-minute psychic reading. It felt as though I had been punched in the stomach. I could feel my face getting numb. I was at a loss for words. 


“She told me that Marc is bad news and has wicked intentions for me,” Sheila continued quite proudly. While I was pleased that she was no longer tolerating oppression, I felt small and insignificant. I also thought of it as a flight into health. One discussion, and now Sheila was cured. It made me reflect on countless times that my therapeutic efforts were dismissed by a client who just so happened to be influenced by a friend, clergy member, or some insight they received on TikTok. 
 

This case caused me to reflect deeply on my role as a helper. Why did I feel the need to be the sole agent of change for Sheila? Why wasn’t I more open to all (other) avenues of support that Sheila could receive? Doesn’t it take a village? I also wondered about how often clients come to me for direct advice. Sheila was no exception. 
 

So many times, I have non-directively responded to “What do you think I should do?” with “What would you like to do?” It is not that I am afraid to answer questions from my clients. I do it often. However, I have found it to be ineffective to give clients direct answers when their presenting problems are highly nuanced—such as relationship dynamics in the case of Sheila. If the advice works, I’m heralded. If it fails, I’m demonized. I find it much more effective, as well as in their interests, to help clients come up with their own solutions. 


Within two weeks, predictably, Sheila was sending Marc a barrage of text messages and outwardly professing all his admirable qualities. There was no longer any mention of the psychic. “What good is that psychic now?” I wanted to cry out but restrained myself. Instead, I maintained a calm, nonjudgmental demeanor and allowed Sheila to tell me all about what led her to reach back out to Marc. 


By the end of that session, Sheila thanked me for “always being there for me.” That was all the validation I needed. She reminded me that while all the men in her life—including her father — were inconsistent, I was the one man who stood by her side. It wasn’t necessarily about giving or not giving her advice. Sheila is smart enough to make her own decisions and deal with the consequences. It was more about the fact that I was the one person who had been there for her. 


I had spent two years of therapeutic effort wondering when I would say something that might resonate with Sheila. However, the true work has revolved around being a consistent and supportive presence in her life. My work with Sheila is far from over, but I do feel that I am on the right track for us to make meaningful progress together. 
 

Questions for Therapeutic Thought 

  • What about the author’s experience with this client challenged you to think about your own clinical work? 
  • What types of clients trigger your own self-doubt and how do you address that discomfort? 
  • How might you have addressed this particular issue with Sheila? 

How to Focus on Emotions to Help Volatile Couples Reconnect

Suggested Tips for Practice

  • Develop flexible hypotheses for understanding family dynamics
  • Collaborate with each family member around therapeutic goals
  • Explore your countertransference around complex dynamics in family work.  
Camille and Lance had been married for about seven years when I first met them. Their daughter, Hannah, was four at the time. I typically saw Camille and Lance twice monthly for about nine months. Their central goal for therapy revolved around managing anger during conflict and responding without reacting with defensiveness, criticism, or emotional withdrawal. They each expressed that empathy, or an ability to hear, identify with, and validate each other, was lacking in their attempts to express and resolve conflict.

Conflict occurred for them in vicious, seemingly unavoidable, and endless cycles of attack and withdrawal. Neither Camille nor Lance experienced their relationship as supportive or safe, and both seemed to have little understanding of the cause of their conflicts or dynamics that kept them apart. Lance and Camille regularly experienced hurt and rejection, unable on their own to engage constructively with one another during moments or episodes of volatility. They reported a desire to grow in their marriage by experiencing togetherness, as well as understanding, in the midst of conflict. However, their pattern made it almost impossible to break or heal from these cycles, leaving each of them stuck in perpetual states of defensiveness, criticality, and ultimately the experience of rejection. Almost always, Lance and Camille seemed to be just a disagreement or wound away from their next blowout.  

Assessing the Problem

Camille often expressed her emotion through anger, criticism, or a vigilant effort to draw out an empathetic emotional response from Lance, while his go-to responses were anger, defensiveness, or withdrawal. They described a mutual experience of “hopelessness” regarding navigating and resolving conflict.

Adding to their pain was Camille’s and Lance’s disconnect from social support, as they lived a considerable distance from both of their families and had struggled to build social connections as a couple. There were also pressures related to both finances and Lance’s work schedule.

Camille, having close ties with her family, described her childhood as one in which she was nurtured and supported. Lance, who had very little contact with his own family, characterized relations with them as chaotic and he described a childhood in which he was left on his own for almost everything, including meal and school preparation and doing homework.

A Working Hypothesis

The more Camille and Lance were able to communicate vulnerably with each other about their own emotional hurt—which we distilled down as feeling “misunderstood, unsupported, and unappreciated” — the more they would experience love and mutuality (that is, feeling understood, supported, and appreciated) during conflict and in their marriage in general.

It was clear that Camille’s and Lance’s emotional experiencing during heated conflict occurred at a secondary, reactive level (anger or withdrawal) rather than out of the more vulnerable, primary dimension of their emotion (simply feeling misunderstood, unsupported, or unappreciated). How they expressed their needs for closeness or identity in their relationship determined the ensuing cycles of emotion by which closeness or identity was negotiated.

While it was likely that their current emotional styles and patterns of conflict response were rooted in past experiences, my therapeutic approach was focused primarily on the ways in which they expressed their hurt to each other in the here-and-now of their marriage, especially during conflict.

Clarifying a Goal for Therapy

The central goal of therapy for Camille and Lance was to reach a place where they could begin to experience mutuality and togetherness, as well as understanding and acceptance around their differences, especially regarding their experience of conflict management.

In reporting on goals, the couple agreed that they would “like to be able to set goals and boundaries together,” as they had prior difficulty in meeting common ground. They said of themselves, “we fight mean,” and “we can both be Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.”

To optimize chances for therapeutic success, every session and intervention would need to be grounded in the goal of facilitating more satisfying emotional experiencing between them, particularly during conflict. The work of therapy would involve increasing expressions of vulnerability in place of reactive expressions of defensiveness and criticism during conflict.

This change was to facilitate the delay of gratification in their individual desires to experience immediate validation, and in its place to nurture the development of a more meaningful and effective way of processing emotion and staying connected through hurt and nurturing intimacy.

Clinical Reasoning

An emotion-focused approach theorizes that couples experiencing difficulties in their relationship often are hiding and or repressing emotions such as fear or a need for attachment, and instead expressing emotions that may be defensive or coercive — primary” and “secondary reactive” emotions.

When these negative interactions solidify into patterns, couples often experience a loss of trust or a heightening of fear in their relationship, therefore further burying the primary emotions.

I theorized that Camille’s and Lance’s pattern of becoming angry or emotionally withdrawn during conflict was a pattern of conditioned defense, covering up primary emotions, cravings for understanding and support buried below the surface of their experiencing.

Clients with whom I have worked typically have internal resources for repair and growth in relationships. Their negative interactional patterns, which often are adaptive, coping styles can therefore be transformed into positive and healthy interactions. In these cases, couples counseling that focuses on emotions can result in transformative experiences.

As a therapist, I don’t see myself as an intrusive mechanic who fixes couples. Rather, accepting and validating clients’ self-experience is a key element in my therapeutic approach. Empathic attunement with couples also involves taking care to provide appropriate validation to one person without marginalizing or invalidating the experience of their spouse. It is a balancing act.

With Camille and Lance, I attempted to provide empathy and safety, as well as to engage in our relationship in a way that was collaborative and in which roles and expectations were clearly defined. Through many challenging and white-knuckled therapeutic hours with conflicted and often disconnected couples like Camille and Lance, I have found that a clinical environment marked by empathy, safety, and occasional structured directives provides the opportunity to build corrective emotional experiences and reconnection. By working in the here-and-now with them, and by integrating their at-home experiences into our in-session work, Camille and Lance became increasingly able to reflect on both their respective inner and relationship experiences in a far more adaptive way.

Intervention and Therapy Process

The family therapist Carl Whitaker advocated a nonrational, spontaneous, and creative experiential presence with clients as a means of engaging them at the hidden symbolic dimensions of their awareness. He said that for real change to occur, insight won’t do the trick. We need to engage each other emotionally.

While encouraging the spontaneous and creative side of therapy, Whitaker also understood the importance of providing focus and structure, “the experience of our being firm,” as he called it. With Camille and Lance, I attempted to use in-session directives that would drive the client-centered and emotion-focused processes in therapy. I also labored to redirect from more-of-the-same conflict cycles to processing the experience of emotion in their relationship.

If they were tempted to explain why they were angry, I let them know that they could choose between carrying on explaining, remaining in the safe position of knowing what they already knew, or exploring how they experienced anger, taking them to what they did not yet know. This was effective with Lance and Camille in facilitating a shift between defending, criticizing, or debating facts to sharing emotional experiences by exploring their own internal processes.

The following is an overview of the therapeutic process.

Sessions 1 & 2  

My hope for these early sessions was to establish a working relationship with Camille and Lance, to open up the space for them to tell their story, to nurture understanding and relationship with them by listening empathically, and to begin to establish a therapeutic vision. At this time, I was focused on noticing and stirring curiosity about emotional experiencing in their marriage.

Camille and Lance described their reason for coming to counseling as “conflict.” They described the early family contexts that shaped them and theorized about their problems in marriage. They described their cycle of conflict as erupting when Lance experienced Camille as being “nagging, preachy, or undermining.” Camille compared Lance to her father many times, which frustrated him. She said she wished, in some ways, that he were more like her father.

Camille and Lance had, in these sessions and in sessions thereafter, described successful experiences of empathy during conflict. Early on, they communicated that when they experienced feeling heard or understood, they felt closer with each other and experienced more successful conflict. I hoped to begin to interact with and facilitate experiences of empathy between them, not merely by talking about these successful experiences of conflict but enacting them in-session.

Session 3 & 4 

My approach during these sessions was to facilitate in-session interaction with their emotions in conflict. During the third session, Camille and Lance reported having a “not-so-good last couple of weeks.” They found themselves frequently getting into heated arguments around Camille, forcing Lance to have conversations with her about subjects that he did not want to talk about.

Lance described feeling “like my whole life is ‘I’m sorry,’” because Camille always “nagged” him about the things that she thought he should be doing. Lance described the conflict as being over “small things,” while Camille argued that they were over “bigger things.”

Lance frequently felt overwhelmed when Camille approached him about multiple concerns at once. Lance said he needed “time and space to breathe and think.” Camille said she wanted to process through these issues immediately.

A large portion of the third session was spent negotiating between them a way of giving mutually satisfying time, space, and understanding while in the heat of conflict. Between sessions three and four, I had them work together on a list of “rules for fair fighting,” which was used as a way of engaging them to establish boundaries and appropriate responses for conflict, a goal that they expressed early on.

Camille and Lance came to our fourth session still emotionally charged from a fight. Both described not feeling heard. I coached them to listen actively, and they reported feeling more heard by the end of session as a result of a slower, less reactive style of communicating around feelings.

Session 5 & 6

A goal during these sessions was to provide in-session experiences of communication between Camille and Lance, exploring and interacting with their emotional processes through emotion coaching strategies. Camille and Lance talked about the patterns of their fights and how they escalated quickly and got “off subject.” I facilitated the practice of active listening in an attempt to promote understanding and slow down arguments.

Session 7 & 8 

During these sessions, we focused on the pattern of conflict between Camille and Lance.

Together we explored body language and other forms of meta-communication. Camille said, “He feels threatened by my body language, and I feel threatened by his.” Lance reported that he was frustrated and felt disconnected. He reported that when conflict is present, “I don’t want to talk about it.” During the conflict, Lance experienced “tiredness, numbness, deadness.”

During session seven, Camille and Lance reported having a conflict around finances after a trip to a wholesale store, where Camille spent a lot of money on things that Lance did not think they needed. During the session, I encouraged active listening and communication between the two of them as a way of assessing and intervening in their emotional processes during conflict.

During session eight, they described “hopelessness” as a common experience during conflict. Camille communicated that she experienced hope and safety when Lance looked at her in the eyes when she wanted to talk to him about something, rather than tuning her out. Lance communicated that he experienced hope and safety when he was given emotional and physical space to sit in the disagreement and then communicate about it again later.

They reported that they had experienced some dramatic and disappointing conflicts as well as “breakthroughs” in the past couple of weeks. During “breakthroughs,” they felt mutually understood and supported. At the end of the seventh session, Camille noted that she kept a record of Lance’s wrongs. I suggested that during the following week she keep a record of Lance’s “rights.”  

Session 9 & 10 

During these sessions, we explored how their personality differences affected their conflicts. Lance expressed difficulty in developing close friendships right now and in speaking up in groups, including with acquaintances and with coworkers. He also expressed being overwhelmed right now in his life, being busy with work, marriage, and parenting, among other things. I shared similar experiences of my own to normalize his experiences.

I noticed a lighter interaction between Camille and Lance during these sessions, which I pointed out. Even while discussing conflict, their conversation was more introspective and less frustrating. Previous conversations, especially about conflict, were less thoughtful and more reactive. I noticed a fresh team-based attitude in their in-session interactions and shared my observations. I also had a brief opportunity to observe both of them with Hannah, who had been waiting in the lobby during our session. They seemed gracious and loving with her.

Session 11  

My hope for this session was to re-join with Camille and Lance after over a month’s break from therapy. Lance reported having begun taking medication for depression and social anxiety after communicating with his family doctor about his concerns. He originally began taking one medication but switched to another shortly after he began experiencing negative side-effects.

Camille and Lance reported having an argument while Lance was feeling “numb” from his medication. During the argument, Lance had not felt attacked by Camille. Feeling unattacked, he had been able to support and validate her, which turned out to be a meaningful experience for her. He reported that it was not meaningful to him because he felt “out of it.”

I explored the differences in the quality of their interactions during that conflict that created a more successful outcome. Camille identified that Lance’s non-defensive stance disarmed her reactive emotions, and they were both able to communicate more thoughtfully and vulnerably.

We explored the difference between primary emotions, such as hurt, sadness, or feeling misunderstood and unsupported, and secondary reactive emotions, such as frustration, anger, feeling “pissed off,” or feeling emotionally numb and withdrawn. After drawing a diagram of these dimensions of emotion, I explored the effects of communicating out of each dimension during conflict.

When one of them communicated out of anger or refused to communicate out of emotional withdrawal, the other either became frustrated or emotionally withdrew as well. During this sort of interaction, they mutually felt misunderstood and unsupported.

We then explored the possibilities of communicating vulnerably and honestly out of the oftentimes buried, primary emotion of feeling hurt or sad. When one of them chose to communicate non-defensively about an experience of feeling misunderstood or unsupported, the resulting mutual experience tended to be feeling “joined together” and “heard.”

Utilizing emotion-coaching and other experiential interventions, I hoped that they would begin to experience a restructuring of their patterns of interaction and of their experience of intimacy based on new understandings and meanings.  

Session 12 

Lance and Camille had a fight immediately before this session. Lance had been feeling exhausted and overwhelmed earlier in the day. When Camille brought him coffee as a gesture of love and support, Lance told her, “That’s the last thing I need right now.” This started an escalation, in which Lance quickly distanced himself and became emotionally withdrawn.

As I attempted to coach Lance to explore his own emotional process of wanting space, he seemed to become increasingly short in his responses and visibly uncomfortable. I found myself compelled to press for responses from Lance, almost demanding cooperation.

At some point, I began to come back to reality, noticing what had been a parallel process between my own experience of interaction and Lance and Camille’s. Changing course, I began to speak with Camille in a reflective way about what Lance may have wanted to say to her.

By the end of session, Lance began to speak for himself, became more engaged in dialogue around emotion, expressed regret for his own behavior, and was verbally supportive of Camille.

Session 13  

Lance and Camille had canceled three sessions since we had met two months prior.

At the beginning of this session, I invited Lance and Camille into a dialogue concerning their commitment to counseling. This carefully initiated confrontation carried a message with it: that they, the couple, were responsible for their investment in counseling, and that I was committed to being invested with them only as long as they were themselves invested.

It was clear that they had discussed this concern among themselves and were already considering termination due to both of their work schedules. I noticed myself feeling proud of my own investment in their therapy and, in retrospect, my own sense of disappointment at their shortage of attendance distanced me from the reality of the two persons before me. And so, I did not expect the explanation Lance would give.

He began to reflect on their experience in therapy over the last year, telling stories of how they had become more capable of engaging with each other in satisfying ways despite disagreement. Having more positive experiences with each other around personal differences and beginning to develop more meaningful social relationships, Lance and Camille expressed feeling less energy towards counseling and more energy in life itself and with each other.

Lance commented, “Before we came in today, I told Camille we might be in a place where it would be better just to sit down with each other over coffee and discuss our relationship by ourselves.” Even though they continued to experience conflict—in fact, they reported having a significant fight earlier in the day—they were becoming more able to be with each other in such a way that was growth-inducing, having developed an increasing ability to self-soothe and remain nonreactively present with one another, rather than growth-inhibiting, reacting defensively to one another out of anxiety experienced in the moment.

At the end of the session, after talking about their progress and increasing sense of responsibility and capability in their marriage, they chose together to terminate counseling immediately. I celebrated with them by discussing their exciting future.  

Reflections on Case Outcome

Camille and Lance, like so many other couples with whom I’ve worked, struggle in knowing how to manage the intense reactive emotions that they feel in the midst of conflict. They became better able to increase their capacities for emotional management and self-direction. They learned that they were not necessarily determined or defined by their impulses.

As Lance and Camille allowed me to sit with them in the midst of their anxiety, anger, and pain to search for bits of hope and seeds of change, I began to see a new paradigm evolving into being in their marriage: one marked by acceptance and stability and driven by intentionality.

Over the course of therapy, as we delved deeper into the intricacies of their emotional experiencing during conflict, Camille and Lance consolidated new positions, attitudes, and cycles of attachment behavior and began experiencing conflict in a more satisfying, growth-oriented way.

Lance and Camille began to take ownership of their own emotions and reactions. As Lance began to acknowledge and understand the ways that he withdrew from Camille at the whim of momentary anxiety, he began to act despite his anxiety, remaining engaged with Camille in an honoring way. As he did, he became more confident and less volatile.

As Camille began to acknowledge and understand the ways that she pressed for resolution on issues of difference, she began to make peace with anxieties that drove her behavior in the relationship. As she did, she became more confident and less volatile.

As intentionality increased little by little over time, confidence increased. As confidence increased, security, rather than anxiety, increased. As this security increased, Lance and Camille experienced an increasingly satisfying and loving relationship.  

Questions for Thought

  • What about the case of Camille and Lance challenged you?
  • What did you think about the therapist’s approach to working with them?
  • What are your own strengths and challenges when working with volatile couples?
  • What night you have done differently than the therapist in this case?
  • Did this case make you want to learn more or less about emotion focused therapy? 

Powerful Ways to Improve Your Presence with Suicidal Clients

Suggested Tips for Clinicians:

  • Explore your own preconceptions of suicidality and how they impact your interventions
  • Meet clients where they are rather than where you think they should be
  • Manage your own fears and anxiety around client suicidality
  • Develop a strategic therapeutic plan including supportive clinical resources


***
 

In our first session together, I asked Judy if she had had any thoughts of wanting to die or of suicide. She looked at me as if she wasn’t sure what to say, and then seemed to decide to be frank. “I’ve had serious thoughts about killing myself for a long time now.”

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Revealing her thoughts of suicide was a moment of extreme vulnerability for Judy as she let me know that her pain was so deep that not existing was actually an attractive option. There is a strong stigma attached to suicide, despite greater mental health awareness in recent years, and I’m sure Judy knew that thoughts of self-harm are still considered taboo. She probably knew as well that I had the power to take away her freedom if I thought it was necessary; my consent form let her know as much.

It was a vulnerable moment for me, too. I didn’t know exactly how great Judy’s risk was for imminent self-harm, and the potential costs were high in either direction if I misjudged the situation. Underestimating the risk could contribute to her death, while overreacting could result in a rupture in our relationship or an unnecessary involuntary stay in a psychiatric ward, which is not a benign experience.

These perils and apprehensions notwithstanding, a unique opportunity opened to me when Judy told me she was suicidal. This moment invited me to meet her as a full human being in a deeply human encounter.

Meeting Clients Where They Are

When one of my clients is suicidal, I know they’re in extreme pain, whether physical or emotional. But research and my clinical experience show that pain alone doesn’t invariably lead to suicidality — it needs to be paired with hopelessness. Believing that the pain will never end, however, is strongly linked to becoming suicidal. Having strong connections to other people buffers against the risk of suicide in the face of pain and hopelessness, while feeling disconnected from others predicts more severe thoughts of suicide. When someone I’m treating is in a suicidal crisis, the best I can hope to offer them is hope and connection.

However, I’ve often struggled to give my clients what they need in these moments which are fraught with anxiety. I felt my stomach drop when Judy told me that she had been suicidal. I had lost a patient to suicide about a decade earlier, and the reassurances from everyone around me that it wasn’t my fault didn’t make it any less heartbreaking or traumatic. Since that loss, I feel an even stronger sense of responsibility to help my clients and to do everything I can to keep them safe, while at the same time balancing safety with not wanting to overreact and encourage or require that the person go to the emergency room if the risk is not that severe. The threat of legal liability also looms large if I underestimate the risk and my client ends their own life.

As a result of these competing tensions and fears, there have probably been times when I unwittingly diminished hope, short circuited therapeutic connection, and left a client alone with their deepest pain. I was taught during my master’s program to be sure to “contract for safety,” which meant having the client sign a form that said they promised not to kill themselves. Even as a new trainee I could feel in my core that something was fundamentally wrong with this approach, which seemed like the ultimate gesture of pointless self-interest. It was clear to the client, too, that the agreement was meaningless, and that it was designed to protect me and the clinic where I was working as a practicum student.

Even though safety contracts are largely a thing of the past, I still need to be careful not to give more subtle indications that my focus is on mitigating risk, perhaps not mostly out of concern for my client. Without intending to, I could send the message that I care more about the possibility that my client might end their life than about the pain and hopelessness that are making their life unbearable.

Perhaps I might signal my nonverbal disapproval when a client describes being suicidal and react more positively when they reassure me that they’ll be OK. Or I might try to nudge a client toward agreeing that they “would never act on their urges,” or show with my body language that this conversation is making me extremely uncomfortable. In one way or another, I could discourage future openness.

It's easy to understand my fear in these situations. There is a widespread assumption that if a client ends their life, the therapist must somehow be to blame. I’ve witnessed organizations where there was a presumption that the therapist must have messed up unless they could prove otherwise. This toxic mentality burdens therapists with the illusion of an absolute ability to prevent suicide, but the truth is that a client may decide to end their life even when I’ve done everything possible to prevent it. Not surprisingly, I’ve found it hard at times not to focus on risk mitigation at the expense of the therapeutic alliance and the hurting human being in front of me.

Looking Back

Months later, Judy told me that my equanimous response to her confession in that first session was the main reason she continued in therapy with me. “I was afraid you might have me locked up,” she said, “or that you’d say you couldn’t treat me.” Instead, she felt she could trust me, and that I cared about her and not just about “covering your ass,” as she put it.

But there was a moment when I was less receptive to Judy’s suicidal thinking, which I didn’t understand (or share) at the time. In one of our later sessions a couple of years after that first meeting, she said with conviction that nobody in her family would care if she killed herself. I reacted with an intensity that surprised both of us.

There was no validation of Judy’s feelings, no gentle Socratic questioning to test the evidence. Instead, I replied, “I have to tell you, that is categorically untrue.” I was nearly shaking with emotion. She looked taken aback. I continued, “I can guarantee that your family would be devastated, and the effects would ripple through multiple generations.”

Judy told me later that she was startled by the fierceness of my words and tone of voice, which I attributed to my own family history of suicide. My dad’s dad, a veteran of World War II, died from a self-inflicted gunshot wound seven years before I was born. That loss colored not just my dad’s adulthood but my parents’ relationship and our family’s emotional life. But while I don’t doubt that the echoes of my grandfather’s suicide were in the room when I snapped at Judy, there were more recent and personal forces at play.

For the past few months, I had been in a moderate major depressive episode following a prolonged illness, which included a frequent desire to die. I was plagued by recurrent thoughts that I was letting down my wife and three young kids, and that they would be better off without me. I knew rationally that the last thing my family needed was my suicide, but the thoughts came with such conviction, as if they were established fact, that they were hard to dismiss. When I responded to Judy in that session, I wasn’t speaking just to her. I was addressing my own ambivalence about staying alive.

Based on my clinical experience with Judy and other clients who have shared their suicidality with me, I offer the following self-awareness exercises to enhance your therapeutic presence when you encounter these challenging moments with your own clients.

Foster Awareness

My lived experience inevitably affects my work as a therapist. The more aware I am of my thoughts and feelings around suicide, the more constructively I can put them to use in the therapy room. Just as I might encourage my clients to develop greater self-awareness, I can practice mindfully attending to my own reactions when a client has suicidal thoughts.

Try this: Notice what’s happening in your body when a client is suicidal — are you tensing? Is your breathing restricted? Are you moving away, or adopting a self-protective posture? You can mind your emotions, too. Are you anxious? Annoyed? Sad? Fearful? Take an easy breath in and out and see what it’s like to observe those reactions with a bit of distance, rather than letting them necessarily drive your words or actions.

Question the Story

What I feel often comes from the stories my mind is telling me. By noticing my thoughts, I can recognize that the stories may not be true.

Common thoughts I’ve had in reaction to a client’s suicidality include:

  • I don’t know how to handle this
  • This is going to end badly
  • I’m going to get sued

The thoughts may come as wordless impressions rather than actual statements, such as:

  • Images of the client’s death
  • Being questioned by investigators
  • Feeling inadequate to the task

Try this: Notice when the mind is creating stories. It’s often not necessary (or practical) to do formal cognitive restructuring to change unhelpful beliefs; just noticing that we’re having thoughts that may not be true helps us to hold them more lightly, and to realize there are other ways things could turn out.

Open Continually

My automatic impulse in the face of vulnerability is to shut down: to close my heart, resist discomfort, quickly resolve ambiguity, and fall back on well-worn habits. These default reactions may be effective at managing my anxiety, but they can shut down my flexibility, creativity, and ability to connect with the person in my care.

Try this: When you sense the urge to shut down, take a slow breath in and out, feeling the points of contact between your body and your chair. Then ask yourself, “Can I open to this?” Even if part of us is resisting the experience, another part wants to stay present and to seek connection. Gently nurture that willingness.

Embrace Uncertainty

My mind doesn’t sit easily with not knowing how something I care about is going to turn out—especially when the outcome could be catastrophic. My automatic reaction is to try to resolve the uncertainty as quickly as possible, and to make sure things turn out okay. But when my client is thinking of suicide, the only thing I can know for sure is that they’re in real pain and are looking to me for help.

Try this: Rather than trying to know the unknowable, lean into not knowing what will happen. Accept that you have imperfect knowledge, and that you can decide only with the information in front of you. Make as much space as possible for the outcomes you fear—not because you’re indifferent to what happens, but because uncertainty is the reality you’re faced with.

***

Self-awareness and greater openness are the foundation for all the effective risk-management techniques I’m trained in such as asking about desire, plans, preparatory steps, access to means, and documenting what my clients tells me. I still collaborate with clients to make safety plans, which reduce suicide attempts by over 40 percent — one suicide attempt is prevented for every 16 clients who receive a safety plan — and I aim to take these lifesaving steps in the context of nurturing lifegiving connection.

***
 

Questions for Thought:

In looking back on your clinical work with suicidal clients, what might you have done differently with a few in particular?

What is it about working with suicidal clients that you find most challenging both professionally and personally?

What about this blog touched you or challenged you in a way you hadn’t anticipated?

What might you do differently next time you take on work with a suicidal client?  

Surrounded by the Village Idiots

My heart is not a home for cowards.

D. Antoinette Foy 
 

Surrounded by the Village Idiots

The day I opened my private practice as a psychologist, I sat smugly in my office, fortified with the knowledge I’d acquired, taking comfort in the rules I’d learned. I eagerly looked forward to having patients I could “cure.”

I was deluded.

Fortunately, I had no idea at the time what a messy business clinical psychology was, or I might have opted for pure research, an area where I’d have control over my subjects and variables. Instead, I had to learn how to be flexible as new information trickled in weekly. I had no idea on that first day that psychotherapy wasn’t the psychologist solving problems, but rather two people facing each other, week after week, endeavouring to reach some kind of psychological truth we could agree on.

No one brought this home to me more than Laura Wilkes, my first patient. She was referred to me through a general practitioner, who in his recorded message said, “She’ll fill you in on the details.” I don’t know who was more frightened, Laura or I. I was newly transformed from a student in jeans and a T-shirt to a professional, decked out in a silk blouse and a designer suit with linebacker shoulder pads, de rigueur in the early eighties. I sat behind my huge mahogany desk looking like a cross between Anna Freud and Joan Crawford. Luckily, I had prematurely white hair in my twenties, which added some much-needed gravitas to my demeanour.

Laura was barely five feet high, with an hourglass figure, huge almond eyes, and such full lips that had it been thirty years later, I would have suspected Botox injections. She had masses of shoulder length blond highlighted hair, and her porcelain skin contrasted sharply with her dark eyes. Perfect makeup, with bright red lipstick, set off her features. She was chic in spike heels, a tailored silk blouse, and a black pencil skirt.

She said she was twenty-six, single, and working in a large securities firm. She’d started out as a secretary but had been promoted to the human resources department.

When I asked how I could help her, Laura sat for a long time looking out the window. I waited for her to tell me the problem. I continued to wait in what’s called a therapeutic silence—an uncomfortable quiet that’s supposed to elicit truth from the patient. Finally, she said, “I have herpes.”

I asked, “Herpes zoster or herpes simplex?”

“The kind you get if you’re totally filthy.”

“Sexually transmitted,” I translated.

When I asked whether her sexual partner knew he had herpes, Laura replied that Ed, her boyfriend of two years, had said he didn’t. However, she’d found a pill vial in his cabinet that she recognized as the same medication she’d been prescribed. When I questioned her about this, she acted as though it was normal and that there wasn’t much she could do about it. She said, “That’s Ed. I’ve already ripped a strip off him. What more can I do?”

That blasé reaction suggested that Laura was used to selfish and duplicitous behaviour. She’d been referred to me, she said, because the strongest medication wasn’t limiting the constant outbreaks and her doctor thought she needed psychiatric help. But Laura was clear about having no desire to be in therapy. She just wanted to get over the herpes.

I explained that in some people stress is a major trigger for attacks of the latent virus. She said, “I know what the word stress means, but I don’t know exactly how it feels. I don’t think I have it. I just keep on keeping on, surrounded by the village idiots.” Not much had bothered her in her life, Laura told me, although she did acknowledge that the herpes had shaken her like nothing else.

First, I tried to reassure her by letting her know that one in six people aged fourteen to forty-nine has herpes. Her response was “So what? We’re all in the same filthy swamp.” Switching tacks, I told her I understood why she was upset. A man who purported to love her had betrayed her. Plus, she was in pain—in fact, she could barely sit. The worst part was the shame; forever after she’d have to tell anyone she ever slept with that she had herpes or was a carrier.

Laura agreed, but the worst aspect for her was that although she’d done everything possible to rise above her family circumstances, she was now wallowing in filth, just as they always had. “It’s like quicksand,” she said. “No matter how hard I try to crawl out of the ooze and slime, I keep getting sucked back in. I know; I’ve almost died trying.”

When I asked her to tell me about her family, she said she wasn’t going to go into “all that bilge.” Laura explained that she was a practical person and wanted to decrease her stress, whatever that was, so that she could get the painful herpes under control. She’d planned to attend this one session, where I’d either give her a pill or “cure” her of “stress.” I broke the news to her that stress, or anxiety, was occasionally easy to relieve but could sometimes be intransigent. I explained that we’d need to have a number of appointments so that she could learn what stress is and how she experienced it, uncover its source, and then find ways to alleviate it. It was possible, I told her, that so much of her immune system was fighting stress that there was nothing left to fight the herpes virus.

“I can’t believe I have to do this. I feel like I came to have a tooth pulled and by mistake my whole brain came with it.” Laura looked disgusted, but she finally capitulated. “Okay, just book me for one more appointment.”

It’s difficult to treat a patient who isn’t psychologically oriented. Laura just wanted her herpes cured and, in her mind, therapy was a means to that end. Nor did she want to give a family history, since she had no idea how it would be relevant.

There were two things I hadn’t anticipated on my first day of therapy. First, how could this woman not know what stress is? Second, I’d read hundreds of case studies, watched lots of therapy tapes, attended dozens of grand rounds, and in none of them did the patient refuse to give a family history. Even when I worked the night shift in psychiatric hospitals—where they warehoused the lost psychological souls in backwards—I’d never heard anyone object. Even if they said, as one did, that she was from Nazareth and her parents were Mary and Joseph, they gave a history. Now my very first patient had refused! I realized that I’d have to proceed in Laura’s weird way, and at her own pace, or she’d be gone. I remember writing on my clipboard, my first task is to engage Laura.

***

From Good Morning, Monster: A Therapist Shares Five Heroic Stories of Recovery by Catherine Gildiner. Copyright © 2020 by the author and reprinted by permission of St. Martin’s Publishing Group.  

How to Improve Your Therapy with Playfulness

Let me tell you the relief I felt when it clicked for me that acting like a therapist with patients was not the way to go — that actually being a real person would be far more therapeutic. The idea of needing to look, sound, and even dress a particular way was the perfect storm for imposter syndrome. And I was constantly fearful that I would be found out in the act. It was clearly unsustainable. I watched my peers gain confidence in their own therapeutic work and realized that it was not just increasingly necessary, but quite possible to find my own style, and have it be unique.

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But being freed of that anxiety naturally brought with it a whole new feeling of uncertainty. While helping my patients find their own sense of self, I had to find my own. And quickly! Coming from an immigrant South Asian background, I grew up with the message that praise follows being able to figure out unsaid expectations and meeting them, prioritizing the collective rather than myself. I became far too skilled at fitting into a mold. I hadn’t stopped to think about who I was or how I wanted to relate to others and myself. I really didn’t have to until I was sitting across from my patients, one on one, and they looked to me to discover their own sense of self. Working with my patients and being more mindful in my personal relationships has been so instrumental in figuring out the parts of me that could also exist. A big part of this is my playfulness.

Ask anyone who knew me before my 20s, and they wouldn’t exactly describe me as funny or playful. I had been highly judgmental of these parts of myself in efforts to tone them down. But in challenging these judgments, I finally found an affinity for sarcasm, cleverness, and wit. I enjoyed gently teasing others in a way that helped them to feel seen as well as better about themselves, not worse. This side of me has been tremendously helpful in my work to the point of becoming a crucial clinical intervention and the hallmark of what it means to work with me. For starters, playfulness as an approach to hot topics has been a way for me to move past sticky spots with the intention of revisiting them with more seriousness at a later juncture. It has also allowed me to foster a sense of trust so that my patients have been willing to take on deeper and more painful topics. Doing so has also allowed them to prepare for addressing difficult emotions and pacing those experiences. Playfulness through metaphor, chuckling, and coyness have opened doors to more, rather than less therapeutic progress. And this has been especially so when patients have been resistant or apprehensive, opening them to the guidance I have been able to provide.

Playfulness and humor are parts of real and healthy relationships, especially those I form with people naturally. Relating to my patients as authentically and therapeutically possible means having to let this come through in some way. I’m very aware that I have an affinity for puns and cheesy humor. I get excited by thought exercises and how metaphors can be extended to perfectly capture added experiences. I don’t shy away from these parts of me; I own them. I want my patients to experience me as comfortable in my own skin so they can laugh at me and with me at first, and then at and with themselves. This is especially helpful with patients on my caseload who are struggling with depression. These patients usually harbor intense judgment and criticism toward themselves. Demonstrating an alternative way to approach the self can be reparative.

Authentic relationships also have a playfulness to them that can function as a reprieve. People generally present to treatment to feel better, to be able to experience feelings opposing chronic distress. Relationships, much like individual people, have range, with seriousness on one end and humor on the other. A therapeutic space must have range, too. The therapeutic space is not simply a reflection of what a patient’s inner experience currently is, but what it could be and hopes to become as well.

In deciding between a tone of playfulness rather than seriousness as an intervention, I often take the lead from my patient. Some patients bring entirely new material altogether, seemingly unrelated to what we’ve been working on, signaling some heightened discomfort and a need for a break. Others directly ask for a lighter session, subtly warning me that they can’t handle more that day. Some patients may need to be pushed, but some simply need to be held. My instinct is to highlight the growth in expressing their needs and implementing boundaries, especially with me. I joke that we could talk about shoes if it would be more therapeutic. I’ve had a few patients actually take me up on it.

I have found that this range in the therapeutic space may even help with patients’ attendance to session and that the playfulness I encourage contributes to a relatively low attrition rate. While at the start, I’m the one to introduce levity into the session, as patients tend to increasingly benefit and join in the playfulness, they begin to initiate this on their own, and the space already begins to feel lighter. That lightness can then be internalized over time when patients are ready.

The intervention is successful when we start playing together. The goal of any treatment includes using the therapeutic work between sessions, a result of being able to internalize the therapeutic relationship. When patients begin to refer to earlier sessions, observations I’ve made with them, or metaphors we’ve developed together, I know something is working. They may pay more attention to my reactions or anticipate what I might ask and answer the question before I pose it. Patients may even introduce their own language or metaphor, presenting with excitement to share with me, knowing I will very obviously appreciate it.

My work with Vaani is a nice example of how effective playfulness can be in breaking through self-imposed barriers to progress. Vaani presented to treatment feeling completely defeated and at odds with herself. She struggled to make sense of her opposing emotions, citing mood swings and difficulty showing her needs and, thus, feeling unsupported by others. Vaani tried to distance herself from her thoughts and feelings by criticizing herself, leading instead to an extremely negative self-view.

At the start of treatment, Vaani looked to me for direction and approval, some sign that she was doing therapy right. I sensed her discomfort with focusing inward and could feel her need to have the spotlight on me. In addition to my usual emphasis on affect, language, and thought patterns, I started to respond with inquisitive and teasing facial expressions when Vaani escaped into not knowing. I would lightheartedly suggest, “That’s such a Vaani thing to say,” and she would laugh along and try again. She started to anticipate moments I would challenge her further, eventually anticipating these stuck points and refusing to take any more comfort in her resistance. She seemed to find some relief in finding metaphors and analogies; in fact, she typically lit up when she could express herself more effectively than ever. Through our work together, Vaani has come to express a feeling of wholeness, a result of being able to approach the judged parts of herself with curiosity, compassion, and humor, rather than shame. Our relationship remains playful as she continues to reflect inward from a place of safety and security.

***

We all want to play. I did for so long but didn’t know I did or didn’t know how, in part due to my cultural upbringing. In realizing this, and the powerful reflection that came with it, I was able to find an authenticity that felt right. I wouldn’t be the same without it, and neither would my work. I thoroughly enjoy working with people who might benefit from this or a similar discovery to feel better, gain perspective, and move toward healing.