Managing Post-Election Despair in Therapy: A Clinician’s Conundrum

Managing Therapist Post-Election Despair in Session

I consider myself a liberal Democrat, living in a blue pocket of a red state. As a licensed MFT (Marriage and Family Therapist), I also identify as female, white, middle class, and heterosexual. Like many Americans, I stayed up all night to watch the presidential election result come in. My grief and devastation, along with my fears and anxieties about the future, made sleep elusive. After a mere two hours, it was time to get up, resume my role as therapist, and try to figure out how to work with clients on their concerns about this. I had spent weeks working with clients on election anxiety. But this day was different: it is unusual to be experiencing something so distressing that your clients may also be simultaneously experiencing.

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Typically, I manage my self-of-the-therapist by practicing self-care and working on it outside of a clinical setting. But, on this day, I was going to have to find a way to work with clients on concerns I had barely begun to process myself. Should I even go see clients when feeling such sadness and despair? What could I possibly say to alleviate anxieties they might have about deportation, eliminating the education system, reproductive rights, etc.? How would I respond to real concerns that they could lose their healthcare or Medicare under this new administration, thereby losing access to their therapy services? How could I reframe people’s concerns, when I could not think of anything positive about the future? I had rarely felt less like going into work.

9:00 AM. Couple therapy session, mid 30s, White heterosexual couple, liberal Democrats. Both expressed their anger, frustration, and powerlessness about the results. They described their frantic research to determine if they should move their family to another country. I began the session listening, validating, and empathizing. However, our discussion soon shifted to all the ways that the election discussion between them paralleled other dynamics we have been addressing in therapy.  

How did his high anxiety and spiraling thought process relate to her role of staying strong, presenting the calm facts to the children, and managing his anxiety? What messages do they want to give to their children about their election response? What would need to happen for them to take his idea of moving internationally and make that a reality? What is their biggest fear? We ended the session with the couple pondering how they might take their powerlessness and turn it into activism by volunteering to help turn the electorate around in two years.

10:00 AM. Couple therapy session, mid 40s, heterosexual Latino couple, she identifies as Democrat, he identifies as Republican. They began the session with their intense argument about the results. She described him as smug and being a “sore winner;” he described her as bitter and naïve for thinking the outcome would be anything else. Using Gottman’s ideas of the 4 horsemen of the apocalypse, we explored how their interactions with each other reflected these problematic patterns. How did these character attributions relate to their negative affect? How did they display defensiveness, contempt, and criticism? How was their interaction about the election different than their other interactions? How could we shift this discussion on value differences to a more respectful one? How do they manage their perceived differences in values?

11:00 AM. Individual therapy session, male, White, Jewish, mid 60s, presenting problem of anxiety. He entered therapy agitated and began to pace the floor. Due to the nice weather, I suggested that maybe we do something different today and take a walk in the park. He agreed. We walked and explored his anxiety: What would happen with Israel? What if he loses his Medicare and senior benefits? How would he cope with this level of uncertainty? What if his young daughter had an unwanted pregnancy? He ended the session with his own suggestion of avoiding any more election coverage and how taking a break from social media would probably help him the most right now.   

12:00 PM. Individual therapy session, African American female, early 50s, presenting problem of grief. She focused on her anger towards voters and her fear that the results were a result of racism and sexism. She expressed concern for her transgender son and what changes might affect him. What would her deceased mother have said to help ease her fears? What other losses do these results bring up for her? What personal experiences has she had with racism and sexism that this is evoking for her?  

1:00 PM. Individual therapy session, early 20s, White man, unsure party affiliation, presenting problem of depression. This was the only session of the day where the election was not discussed, and we had a session much like previous ones. It could have occurred on any other day.

2:00 PM. Couple therapy session, early 50s, White, Jewish, Republican. They began the session talking about how happy they were about the election results and their shared optimism for what the future holds. They described how they bonded over their relief that Israel policy would likely be beneficial. Using Solution Focused Therapy, I focused on these moments of exceptions: what was different about their shared experience last night? How could we expand upon what was working between them last night? When else have they been able to connect like that?

3:00 PM. Individual session, African American female, late 20s, Independent, presenting problem of co-parenting challenges with her ex-husband. She shared how disappointed she was in the results and was struggling to make sense of them. For the first time today, a client asked me directly, “What was your response to these results? Make it make sense for me!” What do I self-disclose and how much? What could I say that is genuine, brief, and helpful to our relationship? I paused and said, “Yes, I was very disappointed also. The way that I make sense of it is that I think that most people want similar basic things: to be financially stable/not stressed about money and want the best for the people they love.

“People in this election took different paths to what and who they think will give them and their family the best outcome on these measures. It is easy to look at this and see all the ways that the path they chose might not actually do that for them. We can’t control what happens from here, so my personal challenge is to figure out how to cope with it and manage my own fears around what could happen.” She was satisfied with my response, and the session moved on.

***


4:00 PM. I am exhausted. I complete my notes and head home. Today was a difficult day, but I am proud that I was able to self-disclose appropriately, take election talk that could be viewed as “venting” and weave it into therapeutic work, and find a way to work effectively with a topic that I am still processing. I am confident that this will not be the last time I face such a challenge.   

Questions for Thought and Discussion

In what ways do you resonate with the author?

How have you addressed election/political/emotionally laden issues like politics with clients?

To what extent would you have self-disclosed as did the author? Differently or at all?  

How Do You Maintain Compassion and Respect for Your Clients?

Compassion is the basis of morality.
—Arthur Schopenhauer, The Basis of Morality  

Should you have to treat people who have assaulted or murdered others? What about working with clients who hold hateful beliefs or taboo fantasies or act in ways that directly contradict your moral standards? What if they’re blatantly sexist, racist, homophobic, or transphobic? How do you know what your role is when you feel disgusted or angry or upset by how a client lives their life?

All humans are unquestionably shaped by their values. No matter how much you try to embrace your open mind, some implicit biases are inescapable. Everyone has preconceived criteria for which behaviors feel acceptable or unacceptable.

Therapists often work with people the rest of society often belittles, misunderstands, and ostracizes. When a client sees only the bad in themselves, you reach in and find all the good. You hold a light in a place that can feel so dark.

But what if you don’t like the client? What if you not only disagree with their values but find their personality annoying or obnoxious? What if some or all of their mannerisms irritate or upset you? What if you find yourself feeling agitated during your work together?

Let’s slow down here. We invite you to spend a moment thinking about a value you hate. Hate is a heavy word; we chose it because it triggers strong emotions. For example, maybe you hate self-centeredness or people acting like they know everything. Now imagine you have been assigned to work with a client who holds or embodies these specific traits. They show no interest in changing, but they’re in a state of distress, they need help, and you have the expertise to help them.

Could you do the work? Could you genuinely support this client, find their goodness, and be on their team? In everything you do with them, could you commit to caring about their well-being?

Feelings of dislike exist on a large spectrum. Unfortunately, you may not be prepared to manage it when it happens. Negative countertransference arises when we experience conscious or unconscious negative reactions toward a client. Despite the word negative, these feelings are not good, bad, right, or wrong. But we must be mindful of how they can affect treatment. Acting out as a result of negative countertransference can include:

  • Rejecting your client
  • Offering unsolicited advice
  • Avoiding certain topics because they make you feel uncomfortable or unsafe
  • Openly disapproving of your client’s choices
  • Withdrawing from emotional connection
  • Being defensive or dismissive of your client’s feedback
  • Demonstrating inconsistent boundaries throughout treatment
  • Trying to overcompensate for your dislike by being overly agreeable or passive
  • Prematurely abandoning a client due to your own frustration or hostility

Negative countertransference sometimes happens when a client inadvertently knocks at unresolved parts of your own life. Maybe their anger reminds you of your father’s anger, and you have a contentious relationship with him. Maybe their passivity speaks to your own difficulty asserting yourself, and you resent having to be the strong communicator in the relationship. Perhaps you’re an unpaid intern and aren’t sure if you can make rent this month and your wealthy client is lamenting about their next real estate venture. Because you are a human and not a robot, it would make sense if you felt agitated by these circumstances.

There are no bad clients. But some clients may feel bad for you. In addition to unpacking personal reactions in therapy and supervision, here are some guidelines for managing your emotions and offering helpful and ethical care to your clients. We explore them in more depth in the subsequent sections.

Managing Your Emotions in Therapy

Leaning deeply into unconditional respect: Deliberately choosing to respect your clients for who they are, where they are, and what they bring to you

Deliberately searching for the good: Intentionally finding and holding on to your clients’ strengths and virtues

Embracing empathy as a nonnegotiable: Prioritizing a warm, empathic approach with your clients regardless of your similarities or differences

People are just as wonderful as sunsets if you let them be. When I look at a sunset, I don’t find myself saying, “Soften the orange a bit on the right-hand corner.” I don’t try to control a sunset. I watch with awe as it unfolds. Carl Rogers, A Way of Being 

Respecting clients means fully accepting them for who they are and where they came from. It entails honoring where they stand in their current journeys.

Respect moves into valuing autonomy. Clients have the right to live their own lives and make their own choices. You can have your opinion, but you do not live in your client’s body, reside in their home or community, or manage their relationships. Respect is the prerequisite for unconditional love. And love can be such a rich part of therapy, even if you don’t identify with loving your clients in the specific sense of that word. Respect is also a catalyst for helping you release rigid expectations about how a client should think or behave. This opens deep space for curiosity and connection.

Respecting clients does not mean condoning problematic behavior. We’re not advocating clients harming others or themselves. We absolutely want to see people make optimal choices in their lives.

However, respect means seeking to connect with the context and motive driving someone’s behavior. As a species, each person’s way of being is influenced by so many factors, including their culture, geography, upbringing, family influence, neurobiology, trauma, and genetics. It is especially important to remember this when working with clients you find challenging.

Respect can get muddled if you struggle with believing your clients owe you something. For example, therapists sometimes believe that clients owe them:

  • Complete honesty
  • A desire to do deep work
  • The belief that therapy is a worthwhile investment
  • Motivation for growth
  • Insight into their current needs or problems
  • A full understanding of therapeutic boundaries
  • A willingness to integrate feedback
  • Socially acceptable behavior
  • Measurable progress

Having some parameters for treatment is reasonable. You are hired to support your clients to achieve specific mental health treatment goals. This work should adhere to certain protocols; deviating too far from the basic structure of therapy can create problems. However, treatment in the real world does not exist in a predictable cut-and-paste formula. Clients come to therapy with unique personalities, unmet needs, and distinct behavioral patterns. Many arrive in a state of crisis when other resources have proven to be unreliable or unavailable. If they are mandated to therapy, they might resent having to meet with you altogether. In almost all cases, clients are juggling numerous stressors, and they want relief from their distress.

Respect helps therapists mitigate the risk of inappropriately generalizing or stereotyping clients. For example, let’s say you conduct an intake with someone who discloses a horrible experience they had with another therapist in the past. They express their anger toward the healthcare system and tell you they have doubts that you can help them. Some therapists would flag this client for being “too difficult,” or even, “treatment resistant.”

Respect means you give the client the benefit of the doubt. You listen to what they have to say about those past experiences. You care about their pain, and you emphasize that you care about that pain because you value their wellness.

As a therapist, respect means you hold the CHAIR (consistency, hope, attunement, impact, and repair) model as much as possible. You strive to convey a positively consistent presence for your clients. You find and hold on to hope for change in every way you can. You seek to attune to their emotions and needs. You look for opportunities to impact them and help them experience their world differently. And if and when conflict occurs, you take the lead in repairing that discourse.

Respect also means truly owning what lies in your locus of control. This, too, is covered by CHAIR. Ultimately, you can control the knowledge you obtain, the therapeutic actions you take, and the presence you exude. You control the boundaries you set, how you advocate on behalf of your clients, the referrals you provide, and the way you acknowledge making a mistake. Depending on your specific workplace setting, you may also control many logistics, including your fees, documentation protocol, after-hours contact, intake paperwork, and the arrangement of furniture in your office.

In reality, however, you can do everything you’re clinically supposed to do, and you still can’t control your client’s reactions. You aren’t in charge of deciding whether you have rapport. You can’t fix whether a client’s partner loves them or whether their boss perceives them to be incompetent. You can never control what a client does or does not do within the context of therapy itself.

The good news is that the more you can respect your clients, the more meaningful this work feels. This is because when you have a foundation of respect, you can lean more deeply into the caring part of this work.

We believe it’s impossible to care too much about a client. To care is to be invested in someone’s well-being. When you care, your heart and soul come into this work. It is one of the most beautiful traits you can bring to clients. As for us, we care about our clients immensely and wholeheartedly. We also have no qualms about telling them we care. We want them to know they are worthy of being cherished because they are. Holding this privilege gives our work such vitality.

Caring is not the same as enabling, overextending, or breaking therapeutic boundaries, however. Those specific actions often come from a place of caring, but they might speak more to unchecked countertransference when therapists lose professional objectivity and presence.

Caring lends a hand to respect, allowing you to detach your compassion and tenderness from expectations. Within this state of respect, you genuinely want what feels best to your clients without defaulting to an assumption that you know what’s best for them. You can value rapport and connection without ever demanding it. Most of all, you can and should care without conditions.

From this lens of respect, therapists can trust how the process of therapy organically unfolds. The freedom lies in the flexibility. It is the balance of accepting clients for exactly who they are while holding on to the hope that change can always happen.

Therapy, from this framework, bursts with possibilities. Embracing radical curiosity sets the stage for holding unconditional positive regard for your clients.

You won’t agree with or like every client you work with, but respect means trying to understand that most everyone is doing the best they can in a given situation. People want to secure their survival. Clients seek to avoid pain, even when that means hurting themselves or others.

How You Cultivate Deep Respect for Clients

Prioritize curiosity at its utmost capacity: What past circumstances led this client to make the choices they made? How, in every moment, are they seeking to minimize pain? Which behaviors have become solutions to temporarily cope with distress? Who hurt them and created those unhealed wounds in the first place? How are they trying to do the best they can with what they have?

Check in with yourself when you think a client owes you something: Be mindful of the tendency to assume your client inherently owes you something. If you find yourself struggling with this, ask yourself, Why do I find this so important? If you’re struggling to let go of this expectation, practice saying to yourself, How can I meet this client exactly where they are? 

Focus more on what you owe your clients: You owe consistency, hope, attunement, impact, and repair. You can’t control how your clients respond to what you offer. Leaning into your locus of control may help release the demands you feel toward clients or the treatment itself.

Pay attention to your countertransference: Countertransference is not good, bad, right, or wrong. It exists and can’t be avoided. But you can be mindful of how you orient treatment when it arises. Remember that your client, even if they remind you of someone or something you dislike, is a whole person with a distinct personality. Remind yourself often of this aspect of therapy.

Commit to neutralizing your values within therapy: In your personal life, you are entitled to orient yourself in ways that honor your values. But your job as a therapist is to show up and support your clients with respect, compassion, and professionalism.

Allow yourself to care tremendously: You are allowed to care about your clients. You are allowed to have feelings of protectiveness, adoration, warmth, delight, and closeness with the people you work with. Deep care, of course, should not justify consistently breaking therapeutic boundaries.

Have a plan if you simply cannot set your negative reactions aside: Sometimes this happens. You may not be able to work with certain clients because their content is too triggering to you. This does not make you a bad therapist. However, it’s in your client’s best ethical interests to refer them to a provider who can competently treat them. If this isn’t possible, focus on getting quality supervision, consultation, and/or personal therapy to address your issues.

Deliberately Searching for the Good in Clients

As therapists, we are called to search for the good, even when the good feels buried or insignificant compared with other traits we see in our clients.

It is also imperative to remember that no value is unanimous. As the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche said in his book Beyond Good and Evil, “There is no such thing as moral phenomena, but only a moral interpretation of phenomena.” Humans have decided on some parameters of good and evil, but a choice that feels boundlessly immoral to one person may be entirely warranted to someone else.

If you assume a stance of moral superiority, you risk operating from a “me-versus-you” mindset. This mindset can create competition, and competition erodes the fabric of the relationship you’re trying to build. If you aren’t on the same team, you unknowingly risk becoming opponents. You may feel irritated, offended, and riled by your client. Your client may feel judged, condescended to, or unsupported. You both are apt to move into defense stances—and this defensiveness may prevent the crucial scaffolding of emotional intimacy from developing.

Your work as a therapist means signing up to care about people who think and act differently than you do. Biases are inevitable, but you must be able to examine inward and dismantle feelings of superiority. You are not a savior. You are not the all-knowing expert. You have simply been invited into a sliver of your client’s life. You owe it to them to witness their pain and understand the gravity of their life story.

Searching for the good means assuming a stance of giving clients the benefit of the doubt. This becomes especially important when working with clients who feel challenging. When you can pause and drop into a client’s pain, when you can land into the rawest feelings and deepest wounds, you soften. There are many ways for therapists to soften, but it happens when the therapist can truly land and sit with someone else’s emotions, no matter how big, heavy, or confusing they are.

Softening is the catalyst for opening. Opening emotion, opening trust, and opening connection. Everyone needs a soft place to land, and you have the opportunity to create this place for your clients. Not all will take you up on it. But many will.

Your expertise isn’t what makes therapy meaningful. Your courage to move beyond societal constraints and listen to another person is part of your impact. It’s a deliberate choice. But in our judgmental world, you are privileged to make this choice every session.

It is tempting to find out what is wrong with your clients. The reward of this work comes from uncovering what is wholly good.

Embracing Empathy as a Nonnegotiable

Empathy refers to the capacity for relating and sharing feelings with another person. It means being able to sense what someone might be experiencing and hold space for that experience. When someone feels empathic, they feel warm, and people tend to be drawn to the energy of warm people.

What person comes to mind when you think of the word warmth? It may or may not be a therapist, but it’s certainly someone who feels highly approachable and friendly.

Those who exude warmth demonstrate how much they care about people, and this care is felt through their words and actions. They tend to be optimistic without being overly positive. They remember details and they understand pain. They know how to hold emotions without overreacting or underreacting. You want to be around them because they feel safe, and that safety feels good.

Some people mistake empathic therapists for naive therapists. This, however, is rarely the case. Truly holding empathy without constraints means understanding and making space for all the mistrust, skepticism, and shame that people who walk into therapy carry.

Instead of condemning or withdrawing from those barriers, empathic therapists simply make space without any pressure or judgment. They respect the client’s defenses for their necessary function. Empathy is patient, and empathy doesn’t have an agenda.

We encourage therapists to self-assess their empathy by ranking themselves on a scale from 1 to 5 for each of the statements listed below:

1 = almost never

2 = rarely

3 = sometimes

4 = often

5 = almost always

1. I seek to understand a client’s pain deeply.
2. I consider the context of why someone might think or act in a certain way.
3. I can imagine what life feels like in my client’s shoes.
4. I am told I am a great listener.
5. I am told I am warm or kind.
6. I consider myself to be exceptionally compassionate.
7.When I think about my most difficult clients, I would rank myself as having an extraordinary amount of empathy for them.
8. I do not expect people to change on my behalf.
9. I am patient with relapses, regressions, and setbacks.
10. I believe I can genuinely sit with another person’s emotions well.

You want to strive for a score of 40 or more. If it’s lower than that, consider deliberately practicing more empathy in your work or asking for help if you are struggling with a particularly challenging client. Like any muscle, our capacity for empathy needs to be worked out regularly to build strength. But the stronger it is, the more you will connect with your clients and respect them for exactly who they are.

Guidelines for Softening and Finding the Good

Imagine your client’s younger self: Your client’s present self is a product of millions of interactions and experiences. The “challenging” clients are often the ones who have experienced extreme hardship earlier in their lives. When you can drop into noticing their younger state, you will likely find it easier to hold empathy. For instance, instead of solely seeing a client as an angry, self-righteous man, you can also see the part of him who is a fearful and helpless little boy.

Look past diagnoses and symptoms: Diagnoses are theories that summarize a given set of presenting behaviors. Even if you accept a diagnosis, everything is subject to scrutiny and change as humanity evolves. It is imperative to push past limiting thoughts such as believing that someone with panic disorder or someone with schizophrenia automatically behaves a certain way. Diagnosing can be a helpful starting point, a tool, but it is never an end point. It does not paint the full picture of who someone is, what they struggle with, and what they need to move forward.

Practice more mindfulness: Slow down in session. Be more deliberate with how you listen and understand your client. If it’s helpful, consider entering a potentially challenging session with the intention, I will look for what’s wonderful in this person. When this notion is your compass, you seek to find strength and goodness.

Remember, everyone is trying to survive: This stance can’t be emphasized enough. Recognizing this truth is not the same as condoning any specific behavior. Rather, it offers an understanding of why people develop certain patterns, no matter how destructive.

Prioritize empathy: Although empathy is often taught as a preliminary skill in graduate school, it’s not a pervasive trait among all therapists. If you struggle with experiencing or manifesting empathy, focus on what might be in the way and, over time, prioritize implementing more empathy in your work.

Julie Bindeman on Reproductive Mental Health Care, Dobbs, and Beyond

Lawrence Rubin: Hi, Julie. Thanks so much for joining me today. You describe yourself as a reproductive psychologist whose specialty centers around reproductive challenges related to fertility, pregnancy, and abortion. Did I get that right, and can you elaborate a bit on what this professional identity means?
Julie Bindeman: Reproductive Psychology is not the kind of specialty you’ll find in graduate school departments. In fact, I’m working with some colleagues to look at what is the curriculum around reproductive health in graduate programs these days. Thus far, it’s not as encouraging as I would hope it would be.
The reproductive time period actually can be anywhere from the time somebody begins to menstruate or begins the ability to produce sperm, all the way to—for men and cisgender men—more so end of life, and for cisgender women into the early 40s-ish (from perimenopause through menopause). So, it’s several decades of a person’s life.
For so many of those decades, cisgender women in particular, spend time trying to avoid pregnancy. It becomes very interesting when everything that we’ve been taught about preventing pregnancy gets turned on its head when we want to become pregnant. We have a lot of conversation in our schools about sex ed, but we don’t have any about fertility and what that means and what that looks like.
So it’s the whole gamut between the attempts at getting pregnant, even deciding, “Do I want to have a family,” and considering that; “Do I want to have a family now with this person, do we feel like we’re compatible;” all the way to, “We’re struggling to get pregnant and we need to seek out a reproductive endocrinologist for infertility,” which is a very specialized doctor.
So, I think, because there’s a specialty in the medical world, and because psychology is a little bit slower to catch up, historically speaking, the idea of a moniker of a reproductive psychologist provides some clarity about what I do, which is different than other psychologists, but also is a very particular niche that involves a lot of study.   
LR: This reminds me of a cartoon I once saw of two girls sitting on a park bench, reflecting on their lives ahead. One of them says, “Well, I think after my second divorce, I will…” It makes me think, Julie, that although the reproductive age physically starts around puberty, people’s ideas of reproduction and parenting and maybe even fertility—probably begin before they were born. Perhaps, a reproductive legacy.
JB: There’s a concept called the “reproductive narrative.” It encapsulates the idea that we all start having a reproductive story early in life, and that story changes, and it’s just as valid of a story if someone is not interested in parenting as it is if someone is very interested in parenting. And when we meet potential partners, we have to see how our reproductive stories mesh, and sometimes they mesh really well, and sometimes there needs to be some negotiation.

Reproductive Mental Healthcare in the Era of Dobbs

LR: If part of the reproductive narrative entails a chapter on the act of becoming pregnant either willingly or unwillingly, then I would think that part of that narrative, from the perspective of a reproductive psychologist, would include discussions around abortion.
JB: Here, let me assist you with it. One of the big concerns for some clients who come to me about deciding whether they should get pregnant or not, is, “Is it safe for me to carry a pregnancy in the state in which I live, and if it’s not, do we need to move?” They explore concerns like, “Do we need to move just for our pregnancy?” In certain states, people are really putting their lives on the line just to have a family.
LR: I’m not going to hide the fact that part of my intent for this interview was my interest, as I hope it will be the interest of many of our readers, in how the Dobbs ruling has impacted mental health clinicians working in the area of reproductive health. In that context, and first, how has Dobbs impacted Julie, the person of the therapist? We’ll get to Julie the therapist later.
JB: I wasn’t surprised. When the leak came in terms of what the ruling was going to be, there was already so much talk about. People were saying, “this can’t be it,” and “they’ll never do that,” and “we’re talking about established precedent for 50 years.” Unfortunately, I was sitting there saying, no, this is it, this is what the intention is. It’s only going to get worse from here.
I remember even having a conversation with my dad, who said, “No, that’s just like hysterical thinking.” Looking back to when the Dobbs decision was finally released, I wish I could say I was surprised. I was not! I had been seeing this coming since Trump was elected, quite honestly. That was the reason that I marched the day after the inauguration. I could see it coming. It was very clear to me that they were going to use whatever mechanisms of power that were available to restrict reproductive rights. So that was one part.
As a mom of someone who was born a cisgender female, I was and am also worried because my child has their whole life in front of them, and you know, I’m not sure if they’ll have a family or not. They might. They might not. That’s yet to be seen. So, I’m concerned for what their choices might look like and what is available.
I have two kids that were born cisgender male, and I worry about them and their potential partners. I knew this was going to impact IVF too. So, when the ruling in Alabama came down, people were like, “Oh my God,” and I was like, “Yeah, no, of course it’s going to IVF next, because the logical conclusion is personhood and personhood being conferred to an embryo.   
LR: The second part of my original question is, “How has Dobbs impacted the way that you are in the room with clients who are thinking about it or going through the abortion process, and what advice springs from that for other clinicians doing it or thinking of doing it?
JB: I happen to live in a state (Maryland) that is very protective of reproductive rights and, in fact, has a shield law. I submitted a letter to the committee that was reviewing it when it was a bill to say that in addition to physicians, let’s protect mental health professionals, because I think that’s an important inclusion that we have, in terms of what we might know.
When I think about worst-case scenarios, I think about people connecting the idea of personhood or person status to a fetus, and then connecting it to laws that already exist. So, if you don’t realize you’re pregnant and you have some wine, is that now endangering the welfare of a child or child abuse? Or if you have an abortion, is that considered child abuse, feticide? I think they will go after women. Even though right now they’re going after physicians, I think they will go after women eventually. It just makes logical sense to me. So that’s sort of my catastrophizing, but again, I don’t think it’s that far off.
As a therapist, I think there have been several weeks of my career that have been indelibly difficult, and nothing I learned in graduate school has been helpful. I was a grad student during September 11th in Washington, DC. That was tough because how do you process an experience with someone when you’re living it too?   
And I would say that for my clientele, the next time I had that experience was the 2016 election. I had clients, who, like me, were grieving, because we saw what the implications could look like.
And then I would say that the third time it happened in my career was the Dobbs decision. I had people calling who were panicked about it. “Are my embryos safe?” was a question I got asked a lot by clients, and I would be like, yeah, for now they are—you know, again, depending upon where you live.
Many of my clients were feeling helpless and angry, and of course, I shared that sense of anger and righteous indignation. I think it’s really challenging to be a clinician when you’re experiencing in real-time exactly what your clients are experiencing too, when you don’t necessarily have the perspective that often we are able to bring to our clients, when we’re not living what they’re living. When we do live what our clients are living, it’s so hard to have that sense of perspective, because our fear centers get activated, or at least mine does.
For clinicians who are either practicing or considering practicing in this domain, it’s important to know your state laws and how they apply to you. If you’re a clinician in Texas, for example, where they have that SB8—which is the bounty hunter laws that it’s so lovingly referred to as—clinicians are in danger under what that law is, and it is a civil penalty. So, anyone can rat you out for any reason, especially if they’re motivated by money. It’s a $10,000 fine. That’s not nothing! Most of us might not have that lying around to pay. So that becomes a very real risk.   
There are other states that are starting to look at that. There are other states that are looking at assisting minors in having abortion care. So as clinicians, I think for the time being, HIPAA protects us, but it’s really important that we are careful about what we say in our notes because notes can be subpoenaed. And so, if I’m talking to a client about an abortion they are planning or an abortion they had, I’m not going to come out and write, “… spoke about abortion.”
I might say something like, “spoke about family planning” and have it be really vague. I think those of us that are practicing in PSYPACT states also need to be aware of what are the other laws in the states where our clients might be sitting in that we don’t necessarily know because they’re not necessarily connected to the statutes that relate to psychology.   
LR: Would you say there is a dividing line/light switch moment between the way you walked into the room pre- and now post-Dobbs? On the morning after, pun fully intended, did you walk in more nervous, more fearful, and aware of having to be far more conservative or careful with your words?
JB: As a clinician who is very up to date on the laws of my state, which I know most others may not be, I’ve been an advocate for many years. I’ve helped to lobby to get some of those laws passed. And so, I wasn’t concerned, because I knew my state legislature—and in a lot of ways, I know many of them personally—that they were going to protect reproductive rights, and that is what they have done the last couple of years too. So, they did not disappoint.
Our state has done some really great things. As I said, they passed a shield law, they’ve expanded who can perform abortions. So instead of it having to be only a physician, it’s been expanded to physician assistants, nurse practitioners, and midwives, which is awesome. More care, we like it! Our Governor has gotten our own sort of storage of mifepristone and misoprostol— ‘mife’ and ‘miso,’ as it is.
So, I didn’t feel that light switch. One of my best friends who lives in Texas did feel that light switch. She had also been living under SB8 two years prior, so she was not surprised. She had had some time too, to be like, okay, now we’re really going to do this because we don’t have the Supreme Court protections. What’s happening in Texas is legal versus legally dubious.   
LR: It sounds like one doesn’t even have to identify as a reproductive psychologist or work in concert with physicians to experience these issues, because anyone who practices couples therapy or family therapy might find themselves thrown into this reproductive ring. As such, it’s just smart to know your state laws, to connect with advocacy resources, and to be very, very careful of what you’re saying and how you say it. And based on your writing, you don’t bring up abortion explicitly but talk in hypotheticals.
JB: One of the things I do as a reproductive psychologist is to conduct third-party evaluations for prospective gestational carriers. And as part of that conversation, we talk about abortion and because they are not pregnant, there’s no concern. I can talk about abortion till I’m blue in the face. They are not pregnant. Everything is a hypothetical.
But I may talk hypothetically, if they live in Texas and there is a problem with the pregnancy. I may say something like, “You are now eight weeks pregnant. You cannot get care in Texas. Let’s talk about where you can go to get care? You know that your doctor is not going to be able to save your life should your life be on the line unless it’s really dire and, you would have to ask yourself if this is something I want to risk?” It’s about looking at each client’s risk profile, which has changed since Dobbs.   

Abortion Counseling as Mental Health Care

LR: But, outside of these specific evaluations, you also do what you might call generic psychotherapy, where the issues may, but most likely will not come up. We are traditionally taught not to bring up religion or politics unless the client does, so is it the same when it comes to reproductive health and abortion if a client doesn’t broach the subject?
JB: Of course I bring it up. I bring it up because everyone thinks that once you get pregnant, it ends with a baby, and that’s just not the case. Not that I’m trying to freak my clients out that are newly pregnant and excited and whatnot, but we talk about, “Hey, have you had a conversation with your partner, should this pregnancy go in a way that you don’t expect? What might that look like? And, you know, it’s a hypothetical because it’s a very rare occurrence. And, I’d rather you have this conversation before it happens than have to have that conversation for the first time as it is happening because it’s just too much to unpack in that moment as you have to make a critical decision about the pregnancy.”
LR: You describe abortion as healthcare. Would you say that the kind of counseling that you do considers abortion as mental health care?
JB: Absolutely. I come at this from the side of the law of my state, which is specific in saying that mental health is a reason for someone to obtain abortion care past 24 weeks. I also come to it from a religious perspective, which may sound kind of odd, but in the religion that I grew up in and that I practice, which is Judaism, one of the tenets is that you save the existing person at all costs. My religion doesn’t see a developing fetus as an existing person. It sees it as a potential person. So, unless that fetus is basically sticking out of someone’s vagina—sorry to be so graphic—and has taken a breath, it is not a person.
LR: I just want to draw reader’s attention to a chapter in your new book that has a comprehensive table called, “Religious Points of View about Abortion.”
JB: When people think about this, and they’re like, “oh, but I don’t see people who are having babies because I work in geriatrics, or I work in pediatrics. This isn’t important to me. I don’t need to know this stuff.” And to that, I say, “actually you do, because how are you talking to your parents of the kids you work with about, what was the reproductive story that that child was born into? Were there losses before that child was born? After that child was born? Was it a long journey? Was it an uncomplicated journey? Was it fraught, and you weren’t sure this baby would ever get there? This is in addition to, was the baby in the NICU or anything like that, that you’re going to want to know about your patient.”
I also think it’s important because if we’re seeing young kids, their parents are often trying to expand the family, and sometimes it doesn’t work as easily as the first time. And so, how do you support a young child who knows there’s something happening with their parents but doesn’t know what it is and doesn’t have that understanding of what infertility might be or pregnancy losses might be? How do you help the parents talk to their child about it? How do you help, as a therapist, talk to the child about it, give them a place to have their own thoughts and expressions?   
For those that work with an older population, and I’ve had older clients who have been still traumatized by the Dobbs decision, because of the abortion they had in the 70s, either pre-Roe or post-Roe. Or even talking about how this is going to impact so many people and having that empathy for it. And that sadness of what I thought I knew, what I thought I could trust, that 50 years of precedent went down the drain.
So, it’s come out in lots of different age groups, and I think it’s really important. I’ve had male clients talk about it too, their concern about abortion and it not being an option—and not in that kind of cavalier, like, I don’t want to deal with that kind of way, which I think we often ascribe to men when we’re talking about abortion. That doesn’t seem to be the case, but somebody I care about might be very impacted by this.   
LR: What are some of the myths around abortion that clinicians—whether reproductive clinicians or not—need to consider when abortion enters the clinical frame?
JB: So let me first dispel a couple of myths that have existed about abortion. Abortion does not cause future infertility. Although I can’t tell you how many of my clients who had abortions when they were younger, and then as they wanted and were ready to have a family, struggled with infertility, how they made that causal. But I’m like, nope, there is nothing causal to that.
Abortions don’t cause cancer, so that’s really important to know. Also, there is no such thing as post-abortive syndrome. That is not a thing. I appreciate the American Psychological Association for a deep dive that they did in 2008. And one of their conclusions was, nope, there is no need to add something to the DSM about post-abortive syndrome. It is not a thing.
What I think is important for clinicians to think about is what research tells us, which is that most people with access to abortion feel relief. Now, there are some circumstances like terminating for medical reasons—I’m not lumping that into that. That’s a very different, specialized circumstance. But the majority of people who are seeking out mostly first-trimester abortions experience relief—95% of them!
In that 5% who might not, they might experience regret. And where this gets confabulated is the idea that regret becomes mental illness versus regret is a feeling just like lots of other feeling experiences a human can have. And it is a feeling that will come and go. And so, we don’t need to pathologize regret!   

A Reproductive Psychologist’s Personal Journey

LR: For those among our readers who have read some of your other work, can you give us—and I don’t mean to diminish it in any way—a little bit of the experience you had as Julie, the mom, along your own challenging reproductive journey?
JB: When people ask me how I found this work, I tell them I came to it honestly. My early grad school experiences centered on teens and kids. That’s what I was really interested in, and so I worked at a high school, where one of my seniors was pregnant. The way the school managed it was incredible. They threw her a baby shower, and when the baby was born, different people watched the baby so she could still go to class so she could graduate on time. What an incredible community to circle around her and help her. It was amazing.
As I continued, I worked at another school that was Catholic, and one of my seniors got pregnant. That was a very different experience. It was interesting in that conversation where we had to sit with the mom and tell her what was going on, and the mom was like, okay, cool, we’ll get an abortion. And the kid was like, nope, I don’t want that.
At the time, I didn’t make much of those experiences. I later had my own kid. When he was about 18 months old, my husband and I reflected on how great he was and decided we needed another one because the world needs another one just like him—since all children, of course, are carbon copies of one another, right?!
We did not have an issue conceiving the second time, although I had in my mind it would be a little harder because I anticipated it would take six months. In retrospect, I guess I was ambivalent, thinking I would have more time than one month. I wasn’t quite ready to have another kid, but there it was.
That pregnancy was over just as soon as it started, when at eight weeks, the ultrasound showed that I had had a miscarriage. It’s called a “missed miscarriage” because it was shown on ultrasound and I had no knowledge of it. I had a D&C. Interestingly, I had begun specializing in postpartum health after my son was born, so after the miscarriage, I wanted to learn the difficulties of the postpartum experience.
We don’t talk about postpartum and how hard it is. We really don’t talk about pregnancy losses which seem to be shrouded in secrecy. So, it wasn’t until my own miscarriage that I realized how insensitive I had been when my friends had had miscarriages. I didn’t know what to say, and so I went to the platitudes, that I think most people go to because we want to be helpful. Rarely are platitudes helpful!
My doctor was optimistic and encouraged us to try again, which we did. I became pregnant very quickly, and while everything seemed to be progressing in those early weeks, I was bleeding. Our anatomy scan at 20-weeks suggested that we have a second opinion. We were referred to a maternal fetal medicine specialist (MFM), where we learned that our baby had hydrocephalus, and ventriculomegaly, in which the brain ventricles were measuring much larger than they should have.
We were told that the best-case scenario was that our baby could live into his 40s with the developmental quality of life of a 2-month-old. That was not a best-case scenario for me! That was not the life I would want to bring into this world, and it was not what I would want to do to my son, not what I wanted to do to my marriage.
We called our clergy and talked about options, one of which was labor and delivery, and the other was that we could drive to New Jersey for a surgical abortion. I was confused because I knew abortion was legal in my state, so why did we have to go somewhere else for surgery? I later pieced together that six months before, a physician named George Tiller, who had performed an abortion in Kansas, was shot to death. His death created so much of a chilling effect that the doctors in my area stopped performing abortions. I ended up having to labor and deliver a little boy who died. It was awful, and both very different, and compounded by my miscarriage. We were later told that this was a lightning-strikes-once situation, a one in a million, and that we should try again when we were ready.
It took me about four months before my cycle came back and my story gets redundant in this way. We tried for one month and got pregnant. I was very nervous during that pregnancy, which we learned was with a girl. I was getting scanned all the time and found out at 18 weeks that the also had ventriculomegaly, hydrocephalus, and partial agenesis of the corpus callosum. Because I was 18 weeks, I was able to access a surgical abortion with one of the kindest doctors to whom I was, and am, very grateful.
We tried again quickly because I didn’t know if I would have the courage to keep trying. And we got pregnant immediately, and this was a pregnancy where I didn’t feel any symptoms, and I was disconnected from it.
At 18 weeks, the MRI showed that we were having a girl and that she was healthy. I was excited and terrified. I asked them to show us the pictures of the last baby we lost and the baby I was carrying, and the differences were so clear. The brain of the baby I was carrying had all sorts of contrasting grays and whites, compared to the blackness in the image of the baby we had lost, which represented fluid. It was a beautiful picture. I went through the rest of that pregnancy fairly terrified, and I think my MFM probably had some vicarious trauma because she had been with me from the beginning.
We went back for my checkup at 36 weeks, and she asked me, “how do you feel about having a baby this week?” I had four more weeks so I said, “I’m good.” She half-joked, “it wasn’t really a question. You’re going to have a baby this week. When would you like to have your baby?” She just didn’t want anything to happen to this child. So, my daughter was born weighing 5 lbs. even. She was fierce. We had a “normal” stay in the hospital, and then they let us go.
When she was about 14 months old, I said to my husband, “hey, so, you know we always talked about three.” He looked at me like, “are you effing crazy?” I said something like, “I must be, but I really want to try for three. If it works, great. If it doesn’t, that’s fine.” And, again, we got pregnant the first time we tried. When we got an MRI at 18 weeks—and this pregnancy just felt so different to me because I was in a place where whatever happened, happened— and my husband was really excited because it meant we could get a minivan. I remember saying something like, “I will not get a minivan unless we have the number of children we might need for a minivan.” He was like, “okay!”Our son was born healthy, and now I have an 11, 13, and an almost 17-year-old. We are very, very done.

LR: I certainly appreciate the depth of your sharing, Julie. when you first started talking about it, I thought, “She’s probably told this many, many times, and it’s going to be very matter of fact.” But you told the story as if it was so fresh, and it just suggests to me that this part of your narrative will always be alive for you, as it problably is an will be for others who have had challenging reproductive journeys.
JB: Can I read you something as you say this?
LR: Sure.
JB: In the acknowledgement section in my book, I write about my story and actually dedicate the book, to the two babies we lost. “…I am grateful for these two babies I said goodbye to before I could say hello to, as they awoke me to the passion for reproductive mental health, and, primarily, the intersection of abortion and mental health.”

Ethics, Competency, and Advocacy in Reproductive Mental Healthcare

LR: This begs the question, “Are there limits to self-disclosure in reproductive psychology, reproductive psychotherapy?”
JB: It’s a really interesting question that I look at from two different vantage points. So, one vantage point is if you’re a therapist with just sort of a normal population, whomever that normal population might be, and you become pregnant, the pregnancy itself is a disclosure, isn’t it? Like there’s a point in pregnancy where you just can’t hide it, and so it’s a disclosure, and I think it’s useful for patients to know so that they can plan, and they’re not surprised.
And then, you know, there can be a lot that might come out in the transference around maternity and nurturance, and things like that. So, I think it can actually lend itself to a lot of really useful therapeutic material. I think if you’re working with the population that I’m working with, I didn’t have a choice but to disclose because I wanted to give my clients an opportunity to change therapists if they needed to. I wanted to acknowledge, “Hey, seeing me pregnant could be really triggering, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to stay with me. Because I get it, and it can be really, really hard.”
It also came out in other ways, like with a client for whom it took months to disclose that, as a child, she had experienced terrible sexual trauma committed by a relative. She was with me through my losses, and she was with me through the birth of my daughter. After my daughter was born, she was able to say she felt like her “badness” and “evilness” contributed to my losses. She felt responsible for them.

LR: That’s very sad.

JB: Yeah! We did some good work around that. Without the disclosure, that work couldn’t have happened. I didn’t show up at my office Friday afternoon after that first ultrasound. So, you know, I had to have someone tell my clients something. And again, lots of interesting things came out from it.

LR: a lot of my resources is through an organization called the American Society for Reproductive Medicine, and within it, a professional group called the Mental Health Professional GroupDo the APA, ACA, and NASW have resources for clinicians who are finding themselves in this therapeutic arena, or who are considering or looking for guidance through live contact?

JB: Not so much within the larger professional bodies. Perhaps NASW. I couldn’t tell you specifically. Where I get a lot of my resources is through an organization called the American Society for Reproductive Medicine, and within it, a professional group called the Mental Health Professional Group. Thats where a lot of the research and work is being done. APA has had more since the Dobbs decision. Sorry to be pitching my book, that wasn’t my intent, but the reason I decided to edit this book was because there wasn’t anything for the mental health professional that had a client that was now experiencing or considering abortion.

You can’t refer someone out when we’re talking about days or weeks to decide to have an abortion. You have that ethical obligation not to abandon our clients, and we have an ethical obligation to not practice outside of our competency. And so, this book is to fill that gap in between competency and not abandoning clients.

LR: Could you recommend a couple of potential paths for advocacy for clinicians who want to get into it and make a difference that way?

JB: I think it depends on how much you want to do. There are lots of advocacy opportunities such as volunteering for a state delegate campaign in your district and talking directly to them, I found that useful and interesting. Or, talking about it at a City Council meeting where you can go on the record. You can talk about healthcare in that kind of way. These are sort of smaller things that people can do.

There’s organizations like the National Abortion Foundation. They not only have abortion funds through them, but also provide a warm line to people. I don’t think it’s a hotline. They train people so that they can help talk to people that are struggling. So that’s a great organization.

There are lots of local abortion funds. That’s a great way to get involved again, you know, depending upon how involved you want to be. So, for a birthday fundraiser one year, I’m going to pick out an abortion fund. This is where I want my contributions to go, like, contribute to this in my honor.

I have lobbied at the state level, even not in my state. I’m happy to talk to anybody. And my husband had the opportunity to go to the City Council meeting, which is where our delegates were going to talk about what happened in session. He said, “I was going to share our story, but do you want to do it? I can give the time to you.” And I said, “Oh honey, they have heard it from me. They need to hear it from you.” I was really, really proud of him.

LR: It sounds like part of what got you through your pregnancies was you and your husband moving together as a unit. I probably should have asked this question earlier on, but “Have you had the experience of working with any women or families who have been denied abortion?” I know this was addressed in the “Turnaway Study” and is very state-specific.

JB: In my state, that is not an issue for people because it’s so protected here. That being said, I’m part of PsyPact, and was working with someone in a restricted state who had gotten a poor prenatal diagnosis and who was trying to decide what to do. Part of our worked centered around getting more information. A lot of her wait-and-see was about getting further along to get more information about the pregnancy. And every piece of information she got was like adding crap to the pile. There was never good news that she was given. It was just bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

They got to the point where they felt, “our baby is not going to survive, and this is awful, and I think we’re both ready to terminate the pregnancy.” But she lived in a state where accessing that kind of healthcare was really challenging. She had resources, she was smart, and she had people that she could connect to that could help her connect to other people.

So, initially, her abortion was denied by the hospital. They’re like, nope, we’re not going to do it. And then it was denied by insurance, they’re like, nope, we’re not going to cover it. And the hospital is like, well, if your insurance says we can’t do it, we can’t do it. So, it was sort of this merry-go-round.

She was finally able to get connected to the vice president of her insurance company and shared with him what she had gone through, and what was happening, and what she needed in terms of healthcare. He pulled the strings he needed to pull so that she could have an abortion. But otherwise, she would have had to travel.

And we do see that a lot. We’re seeing more and more people that have to carry to term because they don’t have the luxury of traveling. And while abortion funds are great, they can’t fund the entire expense of traveling and procedures, particularly later in pregnancy.

LR: On that note, I want to alert readers to the importance of the Guttmacher Map, which lists the levels of abortion restrictions by state. Julie, are there any questions I should have asked, or that you would have liked me to have asked?

JB: I don’t know if it’s a question per se, but just something to leave people with. My abortions defined what I do and defined how I work and gave me purpose in terms of the scope of practice. However, they don’t define who I am. They are just a part of who I am, but they are not the defining measure.

And I think when some people experience trauma related to their abortion or traumatic abortions, it doesn’t mean that all abortions were traumatic, are traumatic. But when people experience that kind of trauma, it’s so easy to have it define them, that they become defined by their trauma. We see them all the time in our patients, regardless of what kind of trauma it was. Or they’re trying to run from it so much that they—so they’re not defined by it. Through a lot of work that I’ve done, I feel like it’s a part of me. It’s one aspect of me. It is not the whole description of me, but there was a time where it was—like it was all I was doing.

LR: This ties into your earlier mention of the reproductive narrative and how we are born into reproductive narratives that sometimes define the entirety of our reproductive journey. I’m reminded of clients who bring with them the legacies and trauma of their ancestors, such as slavery, the holocaust, and other atrocities.

JB: Well, if you’re thinking about Norma, who was the original plaintiff in Roe versus Wade, she was the third generation of people who had unintended pregnancies but had no recourse, and she wanted a recourse. What ended up happening in that pregnancy—she had already had two other babies who had gone into foster care and then eventually were adopted—and so this third one, she adopted out because the courts were (are) are really slow.

There is a fantastic book called The Family Roe. The way it is written, and how it weaves it all, is just incredible. I think you asked earlier, too, about what resources are available for clinicians. There is an email that you can subscribe to. It’s a Substack you can subscribe to, and the journalist’s name is Jessica Valenti, and her Substack is called Abortion Every Day. She is really keeping tabs on what is happening on a granular state level, not just federal, but she’s been keeping tabs about like, what is the status of getting abortion on the ballot in different states, and what are the shenanigans that some representatives are trying to do to prevent it.

LR: Clearly, we’ve only scratched the surface, so I’ll simply end by saying thank you so much, Julie.

JB: Thank you, Larry.

©2024, Psychotherapy.net

Honesty, Not Empathy, is the Greatest Gift a Clinician Can Offer

Despite spending years in my own therapy, attending graduate school, receiving excellent supervision, and working as a therapist for the past couple of years, I am still in the process of discovering what exactly people find so healing about therapy. Is it the experience of empathy and unconditional positive regard? Perhaps it’s the space to express repressed thoughts and emotions? Then again, some people say it’s the reparative attachment relationship. Others feel that it’s the wisdom and insight of the therapist that’s paramount.

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In my previous post, I shared my belief that clients heal most when they can express themselves fully without fear of judgment and retaliation. So, when a friend expressed that her most pivotal moment in therapy occurred when her therapist expressed helplessness and despair, I was intrigued. Didn’t she want her therapist to be strong and confident? How could my friend feel safe to be herself if her therapist was so reactive? To me, this sounded like an unethical experience of countertransference. I needed to understand more.

Countertransference or Therapeutic Transparency

Ella (not her real name) had been questioning her therapist’s care and commitment relentlessly. Despite many conversations and ongoing reassurance, Ella continued to doubt that her therapist had her best interest in mind. While she repeatedly challenged and tested her therapist, they would continue to show up unconditionally without judgment.

Her therapist helped Ella to check the facts, reflected on the possibility of transference, and continued to offer a reparative attachment relationship. Ella knew that her emotions were irrational. She would lash out and her therapist would not retaliate. What more proof did she need that her therapist was not going anywhere?

About a year and a half into their course of therapy, Ella’s therapist informed her that she would be taking two weeks off for a vacation. Ella expressed fear and worry and accused her therapist of abandoning her. Her therapist listened to her nondefensively, validated her experience, and helped her cope forward.

Ella worked through object constancy and knew intellectually that her intense emotions were a reenactment from her childhood. While her therapist was away, she used every strategy from self-compassion and acceptance skills to reframing her thoughts. She engaged in distress tolerance skills and tried to keep herself busy. She reminded herself repeatedly that a temporary break does not mean the relationship is over. But her emotions got the better of her and she texted her therapist with a suicide threat. Luckily, despite being on vacation, her therapist noticed the text. She contacted Ella’s emergency contact who was thankfully able to deescalate the situation.

Upon her therapist’s return, Ella and her therapist met for a session. As soon as Ella walked into the room, her therapist burst into sobs. Through her tears, she shared that she was overwhelmed and unsure if she could help Ella, who was expecting therapy to save her from herself. Although she had wished to help Ella, the burden was too much for the therapist to bear.   

After hearing this story, I was perplexed. How could Ella have found this experience to be so therapeutic? I thought the therapist had been way too honest about her feelings. She sounded judgmental, hurtful, and perhaps even a bit self-centered. What right did she have to hijack the session with her own fears? I would’ve been devastated if my therapist were to react this way.

Ella, however, was relieved. She had experienced the tears as a piercing jolt of reality that cut straight through her debilitating insecurities. She had been unable to synthesize her rational thoughts with her internal emotional experience. While she “knew” rationally that her therapist cared about her wellbeing, she had never been able to “feel” it. She could not get herself out of the insidious loop of doubting and testing. She had been heading towards a self-fulfilling prophecy and the reaction of her therapist stopped her in her tracks.  

After this incident, Ella’s behavior shifted dramatically. She and her therapist had a meaningful repair and they continued to work together for another couple of years. She shares that although she continued to struggle with doubts, both in and out of therapy, she learned to accept her intense emotions while also choosing more effective ways to navigate them.

***

I’ve learned a lot from Ella’s story. Sometimes the most powerful tool that we have as therapists is simply our own feelings. We can be the first person to be brave and honest enough to reflect on their impact. Others may have responded with anger and accusations towards them but that’s not the same as honesty. That’s defensive and retaliatory. I’m suggesting that sometimes, what a client needs is a chance to see themselves in a mirror. And when we are certain that we have built enough safety in our relationship with them, I think being vulnerable and honest enough to share our feelings may be the biggest gift we can give them.

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

Do you agree or disagree with the notion that honesty is more important in therapy than empathy?

What are your limits of expressing your feelings with a client?

How did you address a challenging situation in therapy around expressing your feelings?  

The Healing Power of Therapeutic Presence

I was driving to my therapist’s office and listening to an audiobook when I started to cry. I wasn’t even sure why I was crying. Once in my twenties, I went several years without shedding a tear, but now, in middle age, two years since becoming a therapist, one year since starting psychoanalysis, I was doing this weekly.

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“What were you listening to?” Laura asked once I sat down in her office.

“It’s actually a children’s book. It’s this scene where nobody believes this girl, and she feels all alone. But then her brother,”—and now I felt the tears again welling up—“her brother tells her that he believes her. And she’s not alone anymore. It’s not even a sad scene,” I sniffled. “I don’t know why it gets to me.”

The Power of a Therapist’s Self Awareness

Earlier that week, I had been in my own office, sitting across from my own client. Rachel, a 10-year-old girl, who had started meeting with me to process her father’s alcoholism. She had been vivacious and funny during our first several sessions, causing me to wonder whether she even needed therapy. I kept listening, asking about her father’s drinking but not pushing too hard for her to talk. And then the previous day, seemingly out of the blue, she started recounting some painful memories of her father, one in which he called her mother some horrible names and blamed her for ruining his life.

Rachel had always had a manufactured exterior, a smile usually on her face, but as she shared these memories, I could see tears filling her big blue eyes. “When he blamed your mom for ruining his life,” I said, “I wonder if you thought he was maybe talking about you.” She slowly nodded and then bit her lower lip as though hoping this would stanch her tears.

I felt at that moment inadequate as her therapist. I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to tell her that everything would be okay, but I didn’t know if that was true and didn’t want to lie to her. I tried recalling some clinical vignettes I’d read in different psychotherapy textbooks, trying to remember the life-altering words that those master clinicians had spoken in similar situations. Nothing came to me.   

I realized that I was matching Rachel’s pained expression with one of my own. “It’s good that you’re talking about these things,” I finally said. “I wish that talking would make them better.” She kept looking at me. “But that’s not how it works.” I again tried to imagine what a master clinician would say. My mind again drew a blank.

I suddenly flashed to a time in my early thirties when my paternal grandmother had unexpectedly died. I immediately called my mother, and as soon as I began telling her what had happened, I started to cry. She drove over to my apartment and sat with me for several hours. I don’t remember her saying anything especially profound, but she made me feel less alone, and that was what I most needed.

Now sitting in Laura’s office, having told her about the audiobook, I started to talk about my session with Rachel and my flashback to that day with my mother. “Part of me felt I was giving Rachel what she needed, but another part kept thinking there was something I should be saying to her. I felt like such a failure.”   

I then told Laura that when I’d been listening to the audiobook, she herself had come to mind. “This probably doesn’t make sense, but as I think about it now, it’s like I suddenly realized that you’ve been here all along. It’s like I’ve in some sense, not recognized your full humanness and presence in these sessions. I’ve always respected your skills as a clinician, but I think I’ve seen you as this impersonal instrument or tool that I could use to learn how to gain personal insight.”

The tears were again coming. “But you’re not a tool. You’re a person who listens to me and cares about me. When I’m sad, you feel sad with me. When I’m happy, you’re excited for me. You’ve been here all along, and I think I’ve been afraid to truly acknowledge that.”

Laura and I talked some more, and I eventually thought back to Rachel. There would be times when the words I spoke to her would matter, when I would need to ask the right question or make the right interpretation, but I now saw that I had not failed her during that last session. I had been there with her, allowing her to share her pain and feeling her pain with her. I had given her what my mom had given me that day years earlier and what Laura was now giving me every week. I had given Rachel my full humanness and presence, and that had been what she most needed.   

Terminally Ill Pediatric Patients and the Grieving Therapist

When asked about the favorite aspect of my (dream) job, I could talk for hours. I feel passionate about working in a pediatric hospital setting with chronically ill children and their families. Each day brings new challenges. I enjoy inpatient and outpatient sessions, parent consultations, family work, collaboration, and advocating for this population any chance I get.

On the contrary, when asked about the least favorite aspect of my job, my response is far less glowing and enthusiastic. I work with children from various departments within the medical center, including oncology, cardiology, trauma, and solid organ transplant. It is inevitable that I encounter children who are terminally ill. I will never understand why children die. Experiencing the death of a child is the most painful part of my job, and it will never make sense to me although logically, I know this happens. On the other hand, I feel honored to be a small part of the most vulnerable time in a family’s life, and to walk alongside them in their journey of grief and loss. Helping a family and their child during end-of-life care is arduous work. It has been impossible for me to not be deeply impacted working in this arena.

I will never forget the first patient with whom I worked that received a terminal diagnosis. I was an intern completing my graduate work. Because I speak Spanish, I was privileged” to work with more challenging cases. I remember sobbing to my mentor at the time, not understanding how a child could die. In response, my mentor neither chastised nor criticized me. She agreed with me and mourned with me. She supported me through that experience and reminds me even to this day that we are human. That support has stuck with me as I continue to mourn the deaths of children with whom I work.

When I was first asked to write a post related to working with terminally ill children and their families, I hesitated, perhaps not wanting to open old wounds and visit the pain that comes with this kind of work. But as I’ve experienced more child deaths over the years, I wanted to share my thoughts and feelings and am humbled to share my stories.

The Dying Child

The dying child has a variety of emotional, physical, and spiritual needs. They have questions and often want information about what is happening to them. The child who is terminal often feels unsafe and understandably anxious. One word I’ve frequently heard, particularly from the parent, is “brave.” In my experience, many parents of terminally ill children find inner strength in the strength of their own children. I remember one child who was aware of her prognosis comforting her parents, reassuring them that she would be “okay.” She arose each morning and worked hard to remain connected with her parents, family, and friends. I also try to remember, even in the face of their strength, that these children are scared. As I have discussed with many families, fear and bravery can, and often do co-exist. For me, bravery is moving forward even in the face of fear.

To Tell or Not to Tell

A glaring ethical question is whether a child should be told they are terminally ill and that they will die. In my experience, many medical providers and members of the psychosocial team believe a child should be informed of the severity of the diagnosis; whereas parents often do not wish for their child to know. Many parents believe children will “give up” if they are aware of the prognosis. To the one, children often know something is very different or not right. They may be confused and desire open communication to understand what is happening within their own bodies. It is my job to provide caregivers with this information and connect them to the Child Life department if they would like guidance regarding how to tell their child. It is not my job, however, to advise them on what to do or impose my own beliefs. The decision is ultimately up to the parents.

The Dying Child’s Family

The families with whom I’ve worked represent a wide range of cultures, faiths, religions, abilities, and beliefs. It has been imperative for me to work with them through a very focused lens of acceptance and understanding of end-of-life issues so that I can be as useful as possible. When learning about a family’s culture, it has been important to know and appreciate the family’s beliefs about the afterlife as this has guided me when discussing their child. Faith can be an important coping skill and protective factor when a family receives news of a terminal diagnosis for their child. However, challenges may arise because of a family’s faith. I have met with Christian caregivers who struggle with the balance of faith and science. Many worry that preparing for end-of-life care, such as transitioning to hospice, considering a DNR, or planning the funeral indicates they are not “good Christians.” Connecting families to spiritual care has been crucial when the family’s faith is important to them.

Families are often faced with challenging decisions regarding end-of-life care. Many parents process these decisions with the child’s therapist. Some parents worry that focusing on the child’s quality of life and reducing seemingly futile treatments will be perceived as “giving up.” I have often worked with caregivers who struggle with the continuation of treatments that are painful, and sometimes even agonizing, for their child. While they want what is best for their child, the decision to extend that child’s life can be tortuous.

Complex and anticipatory grief can make the adjustment to a terminal diagnosis that much more difficult. It is challenging for caregivers to be fully present while still grieving the impending loss of their child. In addition, siblings are often overlooked as a necessity for the dying child’s care. I recall the family of a dying child with whom I facilitated sibling play therapy. My goals during sessions were to connect with each child and help them connect to each other. During those sessions, the child with the terminal illness often felt ill and lethargic. The sibling first requested that the patient play with her in many ways. However, as sessions progressed, the sibling learned to allow her sister to lead. For example, instead of two chefs working at a restaurant, the sibling was the chef who served the tired patron a meal. The ability for families and siblings to find strength to cope always amazes me.

Hope vs. Denial

It is not uncommon for me to receive proclamations from the child’s medical teams that the family is in denial about their child’s diagnosis. I will never forget sitting down with a particular mother to discuss her child and family. She said, “I know what the team thinks. They think I don’t understand what is happening. I understand. I am just choosing to have hope. Hope in a higher power. I know my child’s doctors do not have the last say. I have hope that God will heal my child.” Hope is not denial. Hope is an adaptive and positive coping skill that bolsters a child and family during outstanding hardship.

The Challenges of Working with Dying Children

I was fortunate to be surrounded by deeply empathetic people during my internship, when I first experienced the death of a child patient. Since that time, I have met many medical providers who have been able to build an emotional tolerance for this kind of work out of necessity to care for their patients. I have always been thankful for their skill at addressing the physical and medical needs of these children and their families.

As a therapist, however, my role is to attend to the emotional needs of the family — their strengths and fears along with, of course, their presenting concerns. I have learned the importance of allowing space for all feelings, including my own, when a child’s death is imminent or has occurred. I used to believe I was not able to grieve the loss of a patient. My grief meant nothing compared to the limitless grief of the family, friends, community, and bedside staff. However, I quickly and poignantly came to see the disingenuousness of this belief. I have learned that the only way I can be fully present for the child and their family is by remaining firmly anchored in my own humanity and vulnerability.

I have certainly heard words like compassion fatigue, secondary trauma, contagious emotions, and empathy trauma bandied about, and how any of these experiences can lead to burnout. One extreme challenge I’ve experienced when meeting with a terminally ill child and/or their parents has been the pressure of meeting with a healthier patient immediately afterward. I will never forget receiving news a patient with whom I had worked for years died two minutes before a session with another patient. I still question whether I was able to offer unconditionally positive regard to that second patient as I struggled under the weight of what had happened moments before. Shifting those emotional gears was a challenge.

Over this and related experiences, I have had to learn ways of grieving to avoid burnout. Showing my own humanity and vulnerability within the boundaries of safe relationships and work friendships has made me a better therapist and afforded me an outlet for my own emotions. I remember working with a chronically ill child for over a year who received a terminal diagnosis. As her illness progressed, I transitioned to working with her parents. I learned to never schedule a session with another family or patient directly following these interventions. After these emotionally dense and intense sessions, I would schedule five minutes to cry. I would shut my office door and have a few minutes to allow myself to experience these heavy feelings and an emotional release. I have learned that by allowing myself to grieve, experience, and understand my own humanity, I have become a more empathic person. This has, in turn, allowed me to continue to work with this population and alongside grieving families.

Guilt and Perspective

There are several challenges and, not surprisingly for me, blessings when working with this population. One glaring emotion I often experience is guilt. When leaving the hospital for a vacation or holiday, I must inform the families of newly admitted patients that I will be gone for a few days. Many families say, “Have fun!” or “Merry Christmas!” The typical “you too” does not suffice in this scenario. The extreme guilt I felt as a young therapist was overwhelming. Then, with two healthy pregnancies and subsequent maternity leaves, and now, with two healthy children, I am often surprised by waves of guilt. Over the years, these waves have decreased in size and duration. I know I have a role to fill to support these patients and families, which will be impossible if I continue to focus on the guilt I feel.

On the other hand, I feel deeply grateful to work with these patients and families. Their strength and steadfastness are astounding. In addition, this job fills me with immense amounts of perspective. I recall a mother saying to me, “I don’t know how you do this — choose to come to work with these sick kids every day.” I replied, “I don’t know how you do this — show up for your family every day with vulnerability, strength, and support.”? Small arguments at home or my childrens’ typical tantrums seem so manageable when compared to the hardships families I work with endure. This often leads me back to guilt. It has taken me years to focus on the perspective and honor I feel instead of allowing guilt to overcome me. I realize this helps me be a better therapist for the children and families with whom I work.

Countertransference

Another challenge I’ve encountered when working with this population is countertransference. Loss prompts memories of past losses, with each new one potentially amplifying the pain of those that have come before. This has been extremely challenging for me when working with dying children, especially when I think of my own children. I recall working with a family whose child was nearing the end of her life. The parents and family wanted to make new memories by visiting Disney World, Six Flags, Disney on Ice, and birthday parties. I found myself planning with the parents during parent consultations ways to motivate their child to want to attend these events.

The child wanted none of these outings, instead choosing to remain home and stay close to her parents and siblings. In looking back on that episode, embarrassingly, I wondered if the child was exhibiting depressive symptoms. I naively believed that it would be to everyone’s benefit if she did those things with her family. During a subsequent parent consultation, I suddenly realized I was pushing my own agenda. I mentioned this to parents and that this was not what their dying child wanted. In that moment, I realized the potential power and influence of countertransference when working with dying children and their families. Therapy and supervision are key in instances such as that one.

Boundaries and Self-Care

I’ve always valued the importance and recognized the challenges of maintaining boundaries when working with this population. Our mission at Children’s Health is “making life better for children,” and I genuinely strive for this every day. However, I have encountered specific ethical dilemmas necessitating clear boundary setting. These have included coming in on a weekend or evening when a child is not doing well or nearing the end of their life, wanting to buy gifts or necessities for families who are struggling, attending funerals, crying in front of families, or sharing information with others outside of work. While buying gifts and sharing information outside of work lie within strict ethical parameters, attending funerals, coming to work when not scheduled, and crying with families lie more in the ethics shadows. Attending patient funerals is a particularly challenging ethical domain. Many providers simply do not attend funerals, while just as many others do. It has been important for me to determine if harm might befall the family if I attended their child’s funeral.

Showing emotions to family members is also a sticky issue. Many therapists have been told “don’t cry in front of families!” I have openly teared up with several families.

Therapist as Advocate

Over the years, I have discovered the importance of advocacy. If the patient expresses certain wishes, such as knowing details of their medical/health status or having friends nearby, I share these with the family and medical team when appropriate and after discussing this with the child. My role as advocate has also included helping the caregivers understand their child’s desires. As with the example of the client and her family mentioned above, I helped parents see their child’s perspective and, in turn, meet her needs during the end of her life. We were able to focus on the goal of togetherness and provide her with feelings of safety and connection the way she wanted. This was a difficult shift to focus not only on what the family wants but want the child desired. Legacy building through memory making is yet another form of advocacy, which can be built into the (play) therapy.

Postscript

Working with children who are dying has been emotionally strenuous yet deeply gratifying work for me. Staying present in my feelings while being fully present for the child and family has been particularly challenging. Utilizing rituals to remember and honor a child has been a helpful tool. Our hospital hosts a memorial service each year for employees to grieve patients who have died. Others plant a seed or add a bead to a bracelet for each child who passes. I choose to keep mementos given to me by patients and consider how each child impacted my life and changed me as a clinician. Moving forward is one of the hardest challenges for me as both a clinician and person. I have learned the absolute importance of surrounding myself with others who understand my experiences working with this population.

How a Missed Therapy Session and Self-Disclosure Led to Therapeutic Gains

Placing Therapist Needs First

They have always been uneasy feelings for me, ones that I’ve experienced over the years, mostly leading up to the major holiday break. Rarely, if ever, did they arise when I was a beginning therapist. I must admit now, that after having been a clinician for more than two decades, I find myself really looking forward to time to myself and engagement with family and friends over the holiday period — more than seeing patients. I also look forward in some instances to not seeing particular patients. Let me be clear though, that these feelings or desires are in no way a reflection on how I feel generally about working therapeutically or with my patients in general.

These feelings, I should add, typically arise in anticipation of a holiday break, and very rarely during the “normal” working periods during the year. In spite of my rationalizations, I still feel a measure of shame in making this admission. However, I believe that it is better to acknowledge my feelings and have the freedom to explore them without undue censure. I believe that this minimizes the chances of acting them out, although it is hardly a guarantee. My historic silence around this issue probably reflects an internalized taboo against choosing personal time over professional time, especially when clients’ wellbeing lies in the balance. I have chosen to break this silence here in hopes that doing so will benefit colleagues who struggle in similar ways.

I’ve learned that the cost to the client for repressing these feelings is enactment, in the form of forgetting appointments, double booking patients, or last-minute cancellations. While other periods leading up to non-major holidays may also be potential triggers for me, the end of the year is a seemingly more potent stimulus for these specific types of clinical acting out.

Case Illustration

I practice out of a large shopping centre, a setting that offers a combination of a relaxed atmosphere and buzzing intensity — a truly curious blend for me. Having a cup of coffee in the morning before seeing a patient is one of my favourite activities, part of my commitment to caring for myself in a rather small way. This particular day, I was especially excited in anticipation of treating myself to a Jamaican blended dark roast latte with foam. Its exquisite taste and heady aroma came hurtling to the forefront of my consciousness well before I arrived at my local coffee shop, assaulting my senses with feelings of anticipation.

I was nearly a week away from my upcoming year-end holiday and was looking forward to the well-deserved break. I was scheduled to see my first patient at nine o’clock — I refuse to do any earlier sessions because, in essence, I am not much of a morning person. Since I seemed to have plenty of time, “seemed” being the key word, I decided to indulge myself further, choosing to take my latte as a sit down in the coffee shop instead of the usual take-away. I sat at a table and settled in, motioned to the waiter, who took my order rather cheerfully as I made a brief nod to the barista, someone who I had become fast friends with over the past few months.

I made a mental note to stop and check in with him on the way out. He knew exactly how I liked my latte, so I felt I was in good hands. As I sat alone, sipping my delicious “nectar,” my thoughts drifted to the upcoming break. Spending long days at the beach whilst being unencumbered by work sounded heavenly at this point. As I was enjoying this moment of pure self-indulgence, I couldn’t help but reflect on a vague, yet growing recent feeling of not wanting to see patients. And those feelings did not reflect on my work with any particular one. The thoughts revolved around secretly hoping that patients wouldn’t arrive for their sessions (which indeed some did not). I hated the feeling even though I experienced it only dimly at times during this period. I tried to chase it from my mind so that I could continue with my sensory immersion of the moment. But it continued to nag at me.

The Rupture

Suddenly my attention was drawn to the time. It was 9:10 and I realized that my patient had been waiting for a full ten minutes for me. Panic ensued as I tried to unlock my phone. I had a missed call at 9:05 from the patient. I had “accidently” left the phone on vibrate and therefore didn’t hear it ring or pulsate. A rare lapse for me, but a lapse no less. I hastily returned the call hoping that the patient was still in my office, only to discover that they had gone. I detected no hint of anger in her voice, but I was not convinced when she said that I could talk tomorrow about setting up another session.

I apologized, but she rapidly talked me off the phone saying she had to go. I was dismayed, a sinking feeling of guilt and shame wrapped itself around me like a cloak, which I felt everyone could see. I hurriedly raced from the coffee shop in utter shame, upwards towards my rooms. Once there, I tried with profound difficulty to wipe from my mind the feelings of shame and guilt whilst I prepared for my next patient. But Jane drifted into my mind, and it became clear that as hard as I tried, it would not be so easy to forget what had happened. Jane had been a perfect patient in many ways, almost always on time, rarely cancelling a session, and paying on time for her sessions without any reminders. In many ways, she was one of my favourite patients (yes therapists do seem to have favourites, I’m afraid!).

Jane

Jane’s history made my infraction feel all the weightier. Jane and I had worked well together, after all, she took risks in her sessions and tried to be as open as possible. The one element that struck me was her reserve around expressing any criticism of me. Jane had grown up in a household where her parents seemed to discourage any form of criticism towards them. By all accounts, there was little to criticise in terms of their behaviour, but no parent is perfect, and when Jane tried to offer them any negative feedback on behaviour which she found less than desirable, she was immediately made to feel exceptionally guilty for doing so with words such as, “Was our behaviour towards you really so deserving of so much anger?”

After leaving her parents’ home, Jane had remained in an unsatisfactory marriage out of fear of hurting her husband if she expressed dissatisfaction with his frequent, less-than-pleasant behaviour. When she did eventually muster the courage to complain, he reacted predictably; in a manner which she experienced as defensive and counter-critical. The marriage ended during our therapy, after many sessions spent examining in detail why she remained. I listened patiently and attentively, intervening in as neutral a manner as I could tolerate. I am almost certain that some of my disapproval of her staying in the marriage must have leaked out.

About a week following the “incident” of running late, I left a voice message for Jane saying again that I was sorry for the error, and wondered when she would like to come in again. I offered her a free session as I had wasted her time by not being there for her. I knew deep down that the offer of a free session was meant in part to assuage my own sense of guilt and shame over missing the session, although I hoped it might go some way in making amends for my “transgression.” Another two weeks passed without any word from Jane, and I resigned myself to never hearing from her again. To my surprise, she called up one day almost four weeks after the missed session and apologised. She had gotten my messages but had become very busy with a work project and therefore hadn’t had the time to call me. She asked if I could schedule a next session, which I promptly affirmed for the following week at her usual time.

A Therapeutic Moment of Truth

Prior to that next session with Jane, I thought deeply about how I wanted to address the issue of missing her session. While I typically follow the dictum that the patient is responsible for initiating the session, I felt that this was one of the rare instances where I would take the lead. It was an opportunity for me to understand what my error had meant to Jane, to assist her in exploring any thoughts and feelings she had towards me for having committed this error and giving her an opportunity to decide whether she would like to continue seeing me. A hint of reservation regarding this pre-planned intervention did waft through my mind just before seeing Jane, but I ignored it completed (perhaps therapeutic instinct should not be so easily dismissed by us) and decided to proceed regardless. As soon as Jane entered the room, and even before I could speak, she immediately began speaking about her difficulties.

I decided to interrupt her, thinking that the error I committed was plaguing her as it was me. In retrospect, that was just a tad narcissistic of me. I began, “I know I missed our session three weeks ago and I noticed you didn’t bring that up. I realize that you’re having challenges at work currently and that the work issue is at the forefront of your mind, but please indulge me for a moment. We can certainly return to your workplace concerns before the end of the session.” “What are your feelings towards me for missing your session?” A long silence ensued from Jane which was not her typical manner of responding to me. Something was wrong. “Jane, I am aware that you have been quiet for some time after I asked you for your feelings towards me for not arriving for your session.” Again, Jane looked away and continued in her silences. Finally, she said, “There’s no feelings, I am sure it was an honest mistake. You’re making a mountain out of a mole hill.”

Usually, I would let it go at this point, but not that day. I pressed ahead. Perhaps Jane was again refusing to complain, reprising both her marital and childhood roles. Was she passing up an opportunity to do important work? I persisted, “But Jane, I noticed that you didn’t respond to my initial communications with you and even today there appears to be something off in your manner of speaking to me. This isn’t the Jane I know.” I continued, “Please try to look inside for a moment, Jane, and tell me what’s happening between us right now.”

Jane hesitated momentarily but then as if in a fit of fury, the likes of which I had never seen from her before, she spat out, “You could have at least simply apologized to me face to face instead of trying to analyse my feelings!” I was shocked, Jane had never spoken to me so directly and with such anger. I took a second or two for me to gather myself as she pierced me with her gaze. I retorted, “Jane, you’re absolutely right. I haven’t offered much of an apology to you in the flesh. Thank you for me telling me that now. Indeed, my focus on your feelings must have come across as self-serving. I can see that now. I am deeply sorry for having missed our session and I do regret my error; please can you say more about it?”

To my amazement, Jane immediately settled down, looked me straight in the eye and said, “I thought you missed our session because you forgot about me, perhaps I wasn’t as important to you as I thought I was.” I knew that this had something to do with Jane’s early history, after all, she had little experience of being taken seriously if she complained. But I choose instead to focus on the here-and-now between us.

I was not about to waste this golden opportunity to self-disclose, repair the rupture, and help Jane, all at the same time. I replied, “Jane you’re misreading the situation. The fact that I missed our session has nothing to do with you, in fact, it has something to do with me.” I paused and noticed that Jane was now concentrating intently on my words. I continued, “In fact, it had everything to do with me. I missed the session because I was caught up in my own imagination and enjoying some personal time just prior to our session, which caused me to lose track of the time. You see, I was distracted with rather pleasurable thoughts of my upcoming holiday break, and this was the reason for me losing track of the time. In fact, I always look forward to our sessions, however at that point in the year I am susceptible to thinking about my break.”

I anticipated a wave of criticism from Jane, clearly a moment of countertransference, but the opposite occurred. For the first time in our work together, Jane shared her feelings of not being good enough and her feelings of competitiveness with my other patients. In truth, I had no real way of knowing exactly how my self-disclosure would impact Jane, but if I expect honesty and self-revelation from my patients, then I too must take a calculated risk in sessions as much as I expect them too.

***

I’ve learned that self-disclosure does not always facilitate the therapeutic process. It remains a high-risk/high-gain intervention. I may have succeeded in this instance, as I banked on my clinical judgement that my disclosure would be more effective than merely exploring her fantasies about whether she was important to me or not. My disclosure provided concrete evidence to Jane that she was indeed likeable, and while we did work on her need for approval in future sessions, this disclosure on my part led to her feeling more confident in asserting herself both inside and outside sessions and in taking such incidents less personally.

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

What are your thoughts and feelings about the therapist’s experience following the missed session?

How do you balance the demands of clinical practice and your personal life?

How might you have conducted that follow-up session with Jane?

How do you know when you’ve reached your limit on seeing patients and how do you address that clinically and personally?

Politics on the Couch

I practice in the Boston area, the bluest part of a very blue state, Massachusetts. In the wake of recent world events — Trump’s election, mass shootings, and limitations on access to abortions — most of my patients have until now assumed, not wrongly, that we are aligned politically. For the few whose politics differ from the majority here, they have come to trust that I am open-minded enough to hear their positions without compromising our relationship.  

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It is a long-standing cliché that therapists answer a question with a question. Typically, if patients ask me direct questions, such as whether they should take a new job or get divorced, it is easy for me to parry the question back to them. But some patients’ tolerance for this practice has waned as they want me to make explicit my position on the war. To them, a position of neutrality or silence feels unsafe and, for some, even immoral. As the war has continued, patients’ positions have shifted somewhat but the intensity of their feelings has not lessened.

Existential and moral questions have always had a place in therapy as people struggle to reconcile concerns about the meaning of life. But in the last decade, patients frame wanting to share their feelings with me in the context of feeling safe. Therapy sessions were meant to be “safe spaces” long before that term became part of the vernacular. Promises of privacy, confidentiality, and acceptance are the backbone of establishing a therapeutic alliance and, with rare exceptions, are guaranteed. But, for some of my patients this war shook their sense of what it means to feel safe in some fundamental ways and that has translated into wanting me to agree with them.

Inviting Politics into the Therapy Space

Days after the attack on Israel by Hamas, a patient started his session by saying, “I need to talk about the war, but I feel so afraid of being wrong, I just keep my mouth shut.” He went on to discuss how limited his understanding of the Middle East was and the pressure he felt to take a side. He knew his silence was not read as neutral and that his friend group wanted to know where he stood. 

He also questioned whether my silence was actually neutral, and worried that I too would think less of him for not already having a position. “What do you think?” he asked. “I want to hear how you are talking to your friends.” He hoped I would share my position to model for him what a cogent answer might sound like. Rather than satisfying his request, I chose to discuss strategies for having effective difficult conversations and support his right not to know how he felt at this moment in time. It was a meaningful interchange if not wholly satisfying for him.

Another patient vented her fury about her friends whose beliefs on this topic did not align with her own. She saw the potential for this issue to rupture relationships which had stood the test of time through many other challenges. Now she wanted my help, but she expressed grave concern that I would be unable to understand her position since I am not Jewish.

Despite our long history, I wondered if our relationship would survive this difference. Even though I appreciated the amount of distress she was living with, it pained me to think that given the current state of affairs, the fact that we have different backgrounds could limit her trust in me. We are both choosing our words carefully and I check in with some frequency to see how she is feeling about our relationship.

I have a number of patients who are college faculty members or students, and the heated debates on campus came roaring into my practice. Questions about the positions leaders were taking on their campuses and the implications for future career choices were on the minds of these patients and those who are parents of college-aged students.

Patients with younger children raised questions about how much to discuss the war with their children and how to keep their children safe from hate speech and potential violence. There was a general sense of people feeling unmoored and frightened. Taking time to understand the personal connections to this world event became a dominant theme over the course of many sessions.

Most of my patients do not belong to a religious community. I am by no means an expert on Middle East affairs, nor is that my role. For those who feel devastated or set adrift by current events, they look to me for answers and reassurance that I cannot give. Furthermore, in this day of AI and polarized news feeds, people do not know where to turn for information they can trust. At the same time, they want something more than equivocal answers from their therapist.

A weekly therapy hour cannot solve the problems of the world, but good therapy can promote mental health. The goal of therapy is not to shut the world out, but to help people manage feeling overwhelmed by the world. As the challenges of the world continue to come into the therapy hour, I strive to maintain the therapeutic connection. I might not always pass the litmus test, but I am hopeful that my efforts to encourage patients to empower themselves, improve their skills at having difficult conversations, and increase the number of places where they feel safe to share nuanced feelings will mitigate some of the damage done by this war.  

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? 

Whose Exposure Is It, Anyway?

My guess is that most therapists, even if neither trained in or actively practicing CBT, are familiar with the technique of Exposure with Response Prevention (ERP). Simply put, it is one in which the client, typically struggling with OCD, is systematically exposed to thoughts, objects, images, or situations that fuel their anxiety, which in turn triggers their obsessions and compulsions. As they are guided through the exposure scenarios, which can be imaginal, “real,” or more recently through the use of VR technology, they are provided with alternative skills for coping with and reducing the triggering anxiety. Over time, the anxiety diminishes, as do the obsessions and compulsions.

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I had been working for a relatively short time with my newest clinical supervisee, S, who shared a heartrending account of a childhood scarred by parental instability and early sexualization, profound feelings of vulnerability and insecurity, and his subsequent trajectory beginning in adolescence along a painful path of sexual compulsion and risk-taking behavior, including high-risk sexual hookups with strangers.

This was quite distressing to hear, considering that he was working in a treatment facility with highly disturbed clients, half of whom were referred for “mental health” issues and the other half for substance use disorders. Triggers abounded for this emerging clinician, who thankfully and much to his credit was simultaneously receiving counseling, attending Sex Addiction Anonymous (SAA), and supervision with me.

And then came C, an attractive, thirty-something, HIV-positive client with an early family history not very different from S’s, and who like him was a self-described “sex addict,” was involved in a BDSM relationship with someone considerably older, who worked in a sex shop much like the ones S historically frequented, and who also sought sexual hookups with strangers like he had (up until only recently).

While my primary obligation was to my supervisee, I was also technically accountable to his client. And in light of the similarity of their early adversities and subsequent behavior, I was compelled to carefully monitor what I considered to be the inevitable emergence of countertransference.

As a clinician, clinical educator, and supervisor, I am familiar with the many manifestations of countertransference, especially among freshly-minted therapists and those who may not yet have met, let alone confronted, their own demons. And I know that although clinicians sometimes benefit psychologically from their work with clients, there is a powerful edict in our field that says, “thou shall not use your clients for self-healing.” But it happens, and sometimes, as they say, the universe sends us the clients we need, although it remains important that the clinician not use or exploit the therapeutic relationship for their own psychological gain.

At the outset of his work with C, and much to his credit, S immediately recognized similarities between his and his client’s story and problematic behaviors. He knew that a minefield lay ahead, saying to me, “My mind was racing 100 miles per hour when he told me about his life.” C was the kind of person—young, attractive, needy—that he might have hooked up with on the outside, although he very quickly recognized that crossing this particular boundary would be career suicide and would leave everyone devastated in its wake. While he wasn’t concerned that he might cross that particular line, S was deeply concerned that his client would trigger him to act out in his own life, so had to be vigilant for feelings and thoughts that heightened his own anxiety and which were historically triggers for his compulsive use of pornography and search for hookups. I was very relieved that he had broached this difficult topic with his own therapist, was sharing it with me in supervision, and had been attending a local SAA meeting.

Along this path of inquiry, I have conceptualized S’s treatment of C as his own, rather than his client’s exposure with response prevention (ERP). In this case, the ERP is not being used directly, or even consciously, in the service of the client’s sexual obsessions and compulsions as it might otherwise be, but instead as S’s own means of monitoring the triggers that the therapeutic work has evoked, and thus as a way to mitigate the impact of those triggers within himself so he is able to control his own sexual obsessions and compulsions. While I initially thought it might be more effective to keep this insight to myself, I decided that sharing it with S might aid the supervision, and in turn positively impact his therapeutic work with C.

And so, I inquired and learned that in addition to his own therapeutic and supervisory work, S was doing some powerful internal work when in the room with C. Like himself, C had survived, albeit scathed, from a traumatic earlier life and had stopped growing in early adolescence. It helped S to conceptualize him as a vulnerable teenager who needed a deeply supportive and empathetic clinician who could relate, although not project. Only in this way could he simultaneously help C to develop more mature, effective, and developmentally appropriate intrapsychic and behavioral coping skills for addressing his own intra and interpersonal challenges. My supervisee and his client, both wounded and fragile in their own right, are growing together.

***

As of this writing, I have yet to speak with S’s therapist and may or may not, but I am very appreciative to know that together they are discussing, among his other issues, countertransference matters and how they are factoring into his therapy with C. I felt and still do that it is my role to carefully explore the countertransference for the purpose of helping S recognize not only the triggers in the therapeutic work, but to become as aware as possible of the ways they impact not only that work but his own personal life.