Dyadic play therapy is a form of play therapy that allows parents who have themselves suffered trauma, the opportunity to address their own symptoms and attend to the strained attachment with their child. But very often, the parents are resistant to this form of treatment. “For adult survivors of childhood trauma, psychotherapy can be both necessary and highly threatening,” said Mirisse F. Foroughe and Robert T. Muller of York University. The researchers authored a paper that explains the obstacles and benefits to dyadic play therapy. “The conditions and processes of dyadic play therapy may be experienced as threatening to parents by triggering early memories of intra-familial trauma while challenging avoidant defenses. Yet these very processes may be helpful in facilitating therapeutic change.”
Parents with traumatic childhoods may see the tools used by their children in play therapy, such as toys and artwork, as triggers for their own pain and may experience overwhelming and frightening memories and emotions. “Dyadic play therapy, with its focus on parent-child attachment, tends to activate the attachment system, making the process of therapy especially challenging for those who are much more comfortable closing themselves off from painful relational experiences.” The authors advise clinicians to realize this and take the necessary steps to be prepared for varying reactions from parents.
Several components of play therapy can prevent progress for parents. “In contrast to individual psychotherapy, the dyadic condition also inherently places the parent in a position of vulnerability, in part because they are ‘under the spotlight’ as a parent but also because, with the child present, the parent cannot dismiss attachment-related issues as readily.” However, they added that the benefits of this type of therapy can be enormous, for both the child and the parent. They said, “The pattern of interactions between parent and child often brings the parent’s own trauma history to light, and, with the acceptance and support of the therapist through this process, the parent can then become an agent of change in the parent-child relationship.”
Reference:
Foroughe, M. F., & Muller, R. T. (2011, March 28). Dismissing (Avoidant) Attachment and Trauma in Dyadic Parent-Child Psychotherapy. Psychological Trauma: Theory, Research, Practice, and Policy. Advance online publication. doi: 10.1037/a0023061
As marathon runners pass mile after mile, many reach a point where they suddenly feel that they cannot go on. They may feel an unimaginable weight come over their body, a depletion of mental and emotional resources so complete that they can’t imagine taking another stride. They have “hit the wall.”
A similar phenomenon can occur in therapy. You may enter therapy with the commitment and determination of a runner who has just begun to train for a marathon. Then, just as suddenly and inexplicably as a runner hits the wall, you may, at some point, feel unable to move forward in therapy. You may feel like you have painstakingly explored each and every issue that brought you into therapy, but that your life has yet to change and you are no better equipped to make decisions or take actions than when you entered therapy. You have “hit the wall” in your therapy work.
It is important to acknowledge that things likely have changed for you—the changes just might not be dramatic or easily noticeable. Say, for example, you entered therapy because you feel a great deal of loneliness and have trouble maintaining relationships. After a few months in therapy, your loneliness has likely decreased somewhat, simply as the result of having a solid and stable relationship with your therapist: a relationship that you are maintaining.
So while you still may not have an intimate partner to go home to on a daily basis, you may feel a bit less lonely and might have developed some new relationship-building skills. This kind of progress may seem quite small and insignificant, but it represents the necessary foundation for achieving the ultimate goal of developing healthy, fulfilling and lasting relationships. The question then becomes: how can you break through this wall and continue making progress towards your goals?
First, talk to your therapist about your frustration with therapy. You won’t be the first person who has expressed frustration with the process and you won’t be the last. A good therapist is not going to take this personally or be offended; they will view it as a natural part of the therapy process. This conversation creates an opportunity for you and your therapist to explore the smaller changes that have occurred and put them into the context of the bigger picture. This may be enough, in and of itself, to get you moving again and break through the wall. If it is not, your therapist may be able to suggest some different interventions that can be effective in moving therapy forward.
One such intervention might be bibliotherapy. Your therapist could suggest a book that might be useful to you, then, in subsequent sessions, explore your thoughts and feelings about the book. At first glance this may seem a bit like a really expensive book club, however, the book your therapist recommends will be a book that deals with the primary issues that brought you into therapy. The conversations in your sessions will be very focused on how your thoughts and feelings about book relate to your own issues. Therapy can, at times, be quite painful, and you can grow weary of constantly talking about yourself. Bibliotherapy affords you the luxury of being able to talk about yourself through a book, and can be a strong force in breaking through the wall.
Another possible intervention is dream analysis. Whether you view dreams as being a window into the subconscious, like Freud, or simply as your brain’s way of continuing to work through your thoughts, feelings, and events of the day as you sleep, they can certainly provide grist for the mill. If you and your therapist opt to use this intervention, you will likely be asked to keep a notepad and pen at your bedside. As you awake, you will immediately begin to write down the dream that you just had. Like, bibliotherapy, you will bring this into your next session and work through it with your therapist. Exploring your dreams and discussing possible meanings may be just what is needed to break through the wall and take your therapy to the next level.
Journaling is another potential way to break the wall. Your therapist may ask you to keep a small journal with you at all times. Record any strong thoughts, feelings, or experiences throughout your day. You may also be asked to set aside some time each day to write in your journal. Like both of the previously mentioned interventions, you will bring this into therapy, explore the content of your journal, and discuss how it relates to some of the concerns that led you to therapy in the first place. It can provide new material to draw upon in order to push yourself through the wall and into a more productive place.
There are myriad other interventions that can provide the nudge you need to break through the therapy wall. Like anything else in therapy, there is no “one size fits all” approach, so don’t be shy in telling your therapist what is and is not working. Remain open to the process and give honest feedback to your therapist about the interventions being used. You will almost certainly break through the wall, continue the work of therapy, and experience the joy of living the freer and more fulfilling life you deserve.
A person I’ve been close to for many years is going through the dying process. It has been slow and painful; at times evoking one of the most beautiful and poignant musical pieces I’ve ever encountered. It is “Agnus Dei” by Samuel Barber, a choral version of his beloved and well-known “Adagio for Strings.” The text is from the Latin mass and includes the phrase, “Have mercy on us.”
Now, mercifully, there is an end in sight for my loved one, but for those she leaves behind, the grief is palpable—at times dull and weighty, at others raw and biting, and frequently overwhelming.
Those who have gone or are going through the grieving process know how often all of our psychic resources are consumed with just getting through another day. It can feel like there is no room for creativity—only emptiness. But grieving presents an opportunity for both creativity and renewal; just as we have been changed by the relationship with our loved one, we will also be changed by the process of navigating through grief.
The weight of grief often feels like being imprisoned. One might wonder whether the pain will ever cease, and sometimes the restoration to function fully and enjoy life can seem far away. I imagine that it’s much like the feeling of a condemned prisoner.
I am reminded of the struggle of Viktor Frankl, an Austrian psychiatrist who founded the discipline of logotherapy (a therapy based on existentialism—not the nihilist variety of much existentialist literature, but one founded in hope and understanding of the power of the individual to find meaning in suffering).
[fat_widget_grief_right]Frankl was imprisoned in four German concentration camps during World War II. He was initially accorded an elevated status because he was a doctor, but eventually he was consigned to the life of an ordinary inmate, not knowing what the outcome of each day would bring. Frankl refused to accept that he might not survive the camps. Realizing the power of thought and creative visualization, he resolved to envision a positive outcome to his ordeal. It was out of this experience that logotherapy was born.
Later, Frankl wrote a small, but powerful, book, titled Man’s Search for Meaning, in which he outlined his struggle and how—through the power of visualization—he triumphed over despair. Part one is devoted to sharing his personal story with the reader, and the second part discusses the essential questions that form the basis of logotherapy: “What is the meaning of this experience for me?” and “How can I have hope for the future?”
Frankl believed that the process of finding answers to these questions would provide a foundation for coping with adversity and a path toward living a more full and fruitful life. This allows for a person to be changed by the experience of their journey. A person can reinvent an understanding of both the journey’s significance and of personal capacity and strength.
Herein lies the connection between grief and creativity. Working through the meaning of the loss creates not only a new self-concept, but also a new worldview.
I often utilize logotherapy in my sessions with people who are dealing with painful issues related to death and dying, grief and loss, adjustment to illness and disability, and caregiver stress. Utilizing the core questions involved in the re-creation of one’s understanding of suffering and the meaning of life has often been equally helpful to those who believe in an afterlife or a higher purpose and those whose envision our mortal life as finite with no overarching meaning. Although I believe this work is difficult to do without the help of a trained professional, merely asking the questions—such as “What does this mean to me?”, “How am I changed by this experience?”, and “How can I go on?”—sets the framework for conceptualizing a beginning, middle, and ultimate ending to the grief process.
If you are finding it difficult to cope with your own losses, perhaps seeking help from an experienced grief counselor who will be present for you, listen, ask the right questions, and guide you through the grief process would be useful. By all means, reach out to others in your support system. Remember that humans have great capacity for resilience, and the process of developing, recognizing, utilizing, and celebrating that resilience is a highly creative one.
It’s OK to be fully present with our sense of loss, but we should try not to lose sight of the promise of change or the expectation of renewal. You can see your way through this loss, and you may be re-created in a way that is most unexpected.
Reference:
- Frankl, V. (2006). Man’s search for meaning. Boston: Beacon Press.
I have a confession to make: I do not believe you can feel happy 24/7, any more than you can feel anything every minute for your entire life. We are designed to feel a broad spectrum of emotions because, so far, they have kept us safe and helped perpetuate the human race.
We all know how something that feels bad can actually redound to your highest good in the future. But, being the hedonists I think we are designed to be, we naturally avoid pain and seek pleasure. What if sitting with discomfort helped us make peace with it—increased our frustration tolerance and our ability to accept life as it is?
As Albert Ellis used to say, it is a choice between short-term hedonism and long-term hedonism. If we forego the pleasure of the moment, we can reap greater benefits in the future. In today’s society, delaying gratification is not popular; however, when we learn to sit with what we don’t like, we can actually build emotional muscle and handle the next challenge with greater ease.
When we feel anxious, for example, our first inclination is often for relief, which usually consists of avoidance. We can distract ourselves with TV, video games, pornography, food, alcohol, drugs (including prescription psychotropics), gambling, and other things that may create new problems; or, we can do the last thing we instinctively gravitate toward: sit with the feeling. Yes, just allow it. Breathe into it. Can you feel the discomfort physically? If so, notice its characteristics. Is your breathing shallow? Is your back tense? Do you feel a headache coming on? Is your jaw clenched? Are your shoulders hunched up? Is your abdomen tight? Breathe into whatever you notice.
[fat_widget_right]Give yourself permission to feel your feelings. With practice, it may help you accept yourself and your reality. By resting in awareness, you stop fighting what is true for you now and open to the possibility that it is all OK. You can handle what you do not like.
Many intelligent and insightful souls—such as the Buddha, Ram Dass, and Eckhart Tolle—have encouraged us to be here now. That means being with whatever comes up. Your job is not to like everything, but to be aware and open. Luckily, this becomes easier when you remind yourself that everything passes—the pleasant and the unpleasant.
It is crucial to understand that the goal here is not to figure out why you are feeling what you are feeling, but to stay with the discomfort. You may even want to cultivate some curiosity about what you are feeling.
Granted, mindfulness practice is counter-intuitive, but when you are fully in the moment, you can relax into what is. Resisting your feelings often increases them and their power. No harm will come to you if you embrace your feelings, though it may be uncomfortable. In time, you may notice a feeling or sensation and, rather than avoid it, you can label and accept it. Another great benefit of this practice is that by gently and lovingly accepting where you are, you may become more compassionate with yourself and others.
Impermanence is the name of the game. Nothing lasts—good or bad. You may not care to remind yourself of that in the middle of an ice cream sundae (though it might make you more appreciative and increase your enjoyment), but it is helpful to remember when times are tough.
Once you allow yourself to be with what is true for you now, remember this quote from Haruki Murakami: “Pain is inevitable. Suffering is optional.” By resisting the urge to rate your feelings—or yourself as bad for having them—you will begin to know the peace that comes from acceptance, and your discomfort will not morph into suffering.
Here is an exercise to help you on your path to emotional freedom:
- Consciously stop yourself a few times a day to do an internal check.
- What am I feeling now?
- Can I allow this feeling, whether physical, emotional or spiritual, without trying to repress it or distract myself from it?
- Stay with whatever comes up, especially if you don’t like it.
- Try to label what you are experiencing. For example: tightness in the throat, muscle spasms in the low back, tension in the jaw, etc.
- Name your emotions as if you were simply observing them—anxiety, sadness, anger, resentment, grief, etc.
- Breathe into any area of discomfort, and keep drawing your breath there until you feel it relax.
You can immerse yourself in Buddhist thought by reading books by Pema Chodron, and listening to podcasts on iTunes, such as: “A Quiet Mind,” “The I.D. Project,” or interviews on Sounds True.
Reference:
- Murakami, H., & Gabriel, P. (2008). What I talk about when I talk about running: A memoir. New York, NY: Alfred A. Knopf.
If hope is the thing with feathers, as Emily Dickenson said, then trust floats on gossamer wings.
Most people lose that child-like trust with the end of a first love, but not all. I have known a handful of souls who maintained it until death, or appeared to, but it’s certainly not the norm. Life intrudes on the fantasy that someone will be an all-loving, supportive parent. Paradoxically, if you had toxic parents, it’s even harder to relinquish this desire as yearning for a kinder, gentler life becomes a mission to get what you missed as a child.
Whether trust is broken by an affair, an addiction, or the gradual departure of someone’s heartfelt interest, it requires a radical shift in your world view. Emotionally adjusting to that cognitive terra incognita takes time and energy, but is worth it as it builds maturity and a commitment to being responsible for yourself.
At the end of the day, if you truly trusted someone and found out he or she was unworthy of that level of faith, you may swing to the opposite side of the pendulum and feel wary of everyone. That’s OK. It’s temporary. When you have been badly burned it’s natural to fear fire. Eventually, you will allow people into your heart again. You may never trust anyone else 100%. That’s fine, because the real task is learning to trust yourself. Before we explore ways to build self trust, let’s look at what trust entails.
Trust may mean your parent, child, mate, friend, business partner will:
- Take care of you when you’re sick or old.
- Tell you the truth.
- Treat you kindly.
- Be faithful.
- Keep your secrets.
- Honestly, and with compassion, share most of their thoughts, feelings, and personal information.
- Listen to your thoughts, opinions, and concerns.
- Have your best interests at heart.
Everyone has their own notion of what trust feels like. On some level, trust is having faith in someone else’s ability to truly know and support you. This may mean nurturing, protecting, listening, contributing financially, knowing what you are thinking without you having to say it, anticipating your desires, etc. As you can see, it’s a tall order. The most realistic approach is to hope someone who loves you will do their best, most of the time, to act for your highest good. It doesn’t hurt to remember that everyone is after their own happiness, and they will usually put that before yours. So, if the relationship is reciprocal and they feel they are getting most of what they want, they will make a bigger effort to please you. If not, they will have less incentive.
There are two important things to remember about trust:
1. Your decision to trust someone is a gift to you, not to them. You do it for peace of mind.
2. If they betray you, it is a reflection of who they are, and says nothing about you.
If you have been betrayed and your trust was breached, it may be a good idea to use the above concepts as mantras until they become automatic. When something bad happens, it is all too easy to let feelings of insecurity, vulnerability, and grief distort your perception. Thinking more clearly will change your feelings from anger, despair, worthlessness, hopelessness, depression, and anxiety to acceptance, optimism, sadness, and concern, all of which will help you adjust to a new reality.
Trusting yourself is much harder than handing yourself over to someone else. After all, you came into the world as a helpless infant who needed adult care and attention, so on some very deep level, it’s tempting to want to feel fully nurtured by someone. Since everyone has some abandonment issues, this desire is heightened by the fear that those we love the most will eventually leave. The good news is until you drop the body, as they say in India, you can always count on yourself. It may take a lot of practice to prove to yourself you are truly capable of healthy self-care, but you are. Keep at it and the emotional rewards will accrue, until, one day, you will automatically guide yourself towards self-loving thoughts and behaviors.
How can you build inner security and self-trust?
- Patiently accept your own pace as you move forward in your journey.
- Take responsibility for yourself emotionally, financially, physically, socially, intellectually, vocationally, and spiritually.
Practice supportive self-talk by saying loving things to yourself. Even if you are lucky enough to have friends, family, or a therapist who repeatedly tells you calming, helpful things, there is something deeply soothing about being able to hear those words in your head, and comfort yourself with them anytime—knowing you really mean them. Either way, the more you hear them, the more quickly they will become second nature, eventually eclipsing the cacophony of internal self-downing you may have been immersed in for as long as you can remember.
Everything, no matter how awful it might feel in the moment, is for your highest good and personal evolution. When you are struggling, miserable, grief-stricken, and saturated with anxiety, it seems almost impossible to remember this deep truth. Even if you don’t believe it, just keep repeating it. Eventually, you will see the way life constantly shifts and changes. It’s just like a seesaw, only now, you know you are the fulcrum.
It’s a classic. Of all the themes in the history of relational strife, the I’m Right, You’re Wrong story is by far the most common.
Like many things, we often take this argument for granted or overlook the magnitude of its influence. When couples enter into therapy together, it may be a hidden goal for each of them to convince their therapist that one of them is right and the other is wrong. They demonstrate this in many ways—either subtly or in more painfully blatant ways. By doing so, they hope to feel validated, and that feels good.
Being right gives you a rush of dopamine—the brain chemical associated with winning and victory. You may feel strong—even invincible. The problem with needing to be right is that if we hold it too tightly, it becomes a necessary component for feeling good in the relationship. Any time you are outsmarted, out-shouted, or out-whatever, you feel bad in the relationship. So if this is the game you’ve set up for yourself and for your partner, the relationship cannot logically thrive for both of you. When one is right, that partner is elevated to a higher power position and the other is knocked down a peg.
Effectively, this game creates division. We all want to be on the right side of the wall—not the wrong side. But that means your partner has to be on the wrong side. The more this dynamic is strengthened, the thicker that wall becomes, creating more division. You may feel nice and superior on your side of the wall, but you are drifting further and further from your partner. You become less connected, less caring, and may end up contributing less to the relationship.
[fat_widget_right]If you are convinced you are not the problem, and it is your partner that needs fixing, how does clinging to this belief affect the way you treat them or your attitude toward them? In therapy, I am never going to argue whether or not something is true. I am only interested in what works. What is it going to take for you to increase intimacy, compassion, and loving action in your relationship? I’m guessing that being right hasn’t worked so well in the past. Let’s try something different.
The first step will be to knock down that wall. After all, it isn’t made of bricks and mortar, but simply attitudes and beliefs that you alone are holding in place. How do you knock it down? Simply let go of it. Loosen your grip on it, and you will start to see it crumble. Let it go completely, and it will completely disappear.
One way to do this is to give your story a name or a title. The next time it comes up, say to yourself, “Here goes I’m Right, You’re Wrong again.” By doing this simple exercise, it creates a cognitive space between you and your thoughts about being right. It is the difference between being right and just being while having the thought about being right. It may not sound like a huge shift, but try it. You may find it makes a big enough difference that you are not compelled to react in ways that you might have when you were fused to your beliefs about being right.
Put down your weapons, and take off your armor. Nature has endowed us with the proclivity to feel protected and safe, so stripping your defenses may feel vulnerable and weird. This is the part where you have the uniquely human freedom to make an important choice. Many will take a quick look at the prospect of being unguarded and will clench their armor even more tightly. Being vulnerable means you might get hurt. But how do you expect to be intimate while swathed from head to toe in battle armor? Intimacy is best experienced naked—physically and emotionally. Vulnerability is an essential part of being open and deeply connected, and it’s a risk. There’s no other way, but once you make the choice to get naked—so to speak—the rest can be pretty fun.
I am half way through the year-long Level 1 of the Internal Family Systems (IFS) training. IFS is a psychotherapeutic modality used for helping people and their therapists understand and solve the problems that bring them to therapy. And IFS helps make sense of the seemingly irrational world of eating disorders. I’d had some exposure to and experience using IFS prior to enrolling in the training, but the training is giving me a broader and deeper understanding not only of IFS, but also of how we humans work. I’m finding the process exhilarating!
IFS has little to do with families in the conventional sense. It’s based on family systems theory, which is based on general systems theory. Systems theory is a way of conceptualizing and understanding how living things work via understanding the interdependence of living things, e.g., an ecosystem. Any given group of people unconsciously operates according to the rules that govern all systems. Family systems theory, the basis of my field of study and licensure, provides a means of understanding how and why people develop certain problems. The problem is regarded as a symptom of imbalance within the family system, and an attempt by the system to correct that imbalance, given the circumstances. IFS, in turn, focuses on our internal systems, which operate internally as a family operates externally and as do all larger systems.
The basic concept of IFS is that we all have many different parts of ourselves. These different parts have different perspectives and thus often have different beliefs and goals. Poet Walt Whitman was referring to this innate multiplicity when he said, “Do I contradict myself? Very well, then I contradict myself, I am large, I contain multitudes.”
How often have you found yourself saying, “Part of me knows I should do ‘X’, but another part of me wants to do ‘Y’,” or, “Intellectually, I understand ’Y,’ but emotionally, I feel ‘Z’.” This is our instinctive awareness that we don’t operate as a unified whole. Yes, we contradict ourselves, and this is normal!
There are several different models of therapy that involve working with different parts of self. IFS focuses on the naturally protective function of parts of ourselves, and what those parts are trying to protect us from. There is no such thing as a bad part. When I first learned about IFS, this idea resonated with me because many years ago, long before I knew that I would one day be a therapist, I was seeing a therapist who said, “I believe that people are self-protective, not self-destructive.” I learned from her that even when we do things that are bad for us, our original intent is to protect ourselves from emotional discomfort or pain. And when it comes to disordered eating, protecting one’s self from emotional pain becomes the number- one priority. Undereating, overeating, purging, exercising compulsively—these behaviors are intended to increase pleasant feeling states or decrease unpleasant ones. The longer one relies on these behaviors, the more complicated things become, because more parts get involved.
But where does this pain come from? When someone with anorexia feels anxious if she eats a normal amount of food, how did she come to acquire this anxiety? She would say that she is worried that the food is turning into fat, or that she’ll never stop eating. But why would she worry about such things, so much so that she denies herself the necessary food for her well being? Undereating is a behavior of a part that wants to protect her from the anxiety, no matter the cost to her health. What this part doesn’t know is that the anxiety comes from another part, and that the part that holds the anxiety is probably a younger part, a part that has memories of and emotions from experiences of long ago. For example, this part may hold memories and pain from things like hurt and shame due to being rejected by other kids, or of fear of not being loved by a parent because the parent put so much emphasis on her getting straight A’s that she came to believe that this was what made her loveable, to experiences involving verbal, physical or sexual abuse. These parts are referred to in IFS as “exiles,” and it’s the job of protective parts to keep these younger parts, well, exiled.
This is why simply trying to change eating behaviors won’t work in the long run. As long as the internal system is arranged in such a way that some parts are keeping other parts exiled in order to protect the person from pain, any behavior changes will be superficial and temporary. Some protective parts are really good at making rules and like to be good students and will follow an eating plan and work hard in therapy, but eventually, exiled parts will get triggered and the parts that engage in eating disordered behaviors will come to the rescue.
So, how to get out of this predicament? IFS also focuses on our true, core Self, which is not a part, but rather an essence. And distilled to its simplest form, IFS says that healing comes when we connect to parts of ourselves from Self. Self is, by nature, compassionate and curious and non-judgmental. When protective parts are seen and heard by Self, they can lead us to the exiled parts. When exiled parts are seen and heard by Self, they can get unstuck from the past and healed. And a trained therapist can guide the process of connecting someone with eating problems to his or her disordered eater parts from his or her Self, engendering not just behavior change, but true healing. Ultimately, all parts will reside with one another and Self in harmony. Yes, we are multitudes!
Everything that irritates [or intrigues] us about others can lead us to a better understanding of ourselves.
-C.G. Jung
As we mature finding ways to relate to and communicate with the hidden, non-integrated personality traits that are “in the shadow” is imperative if we want to enjoy a life rich with meaning and purpose.
Trying on different “hats” and “voices” can be fun and very telling! One way to form a relationship with your shadow is to read poetry aloud and play with the words. Try moving your mouth ever so slightly and then reading the poem aloud in some usual way. Some interesting personalities may jump out to greet you! Then you and your shadow personalities can really get the playful conversation going!
There is a back story to the writing of this post–(and perhaps shadow has a hand in any edits made):
This post began as a survey of “Current Trends in Jungian Psychology”. After interviewing Anne O’ Reilly, Irish poet and sacred clown, on Creativity in Play, http://creativityinplay.com, I was led to writing further about Jung and Poetry.
Anne O’ Reilly shared a summer poem by Mary Oliver during our interview with her which I will share with you now:
The Summer Day
Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don’t know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
–Mary Oliver
from New and Selected Poems, 1992
Beacon Press,Boston,MA
In my first Jung & Poetry post I write:
Analytical psychology at its core emphasizes the process of individuation, a life-long process of transformation. Each of us is unique and called to grow in maturity through a process of psychic integration. How can we explore and expand our creativity in the process of individuating? What are some ways we can we develop our creative, playful selves?
Choose any art form and you will find your [dance] in the individuation process. Shadow is your partner as you step from the personal into places of uncertainty and magical embodiment of “what can be” when you are open to receiving into your heart.
Anne O’ Reilly spoke eloquently about how by following impulse and moving into invisible realms we can locate “a much bigger horizon of what is”.
What Is
Today I bow to letters and cards
soul friends touching me from far away,
bow to the familiar ritual
of the morning cup of tea.
Bowing to the rain is harder though
until I see droplets
on the glossy leaves
of the thirsty white camellia.
When I think of the day it arrived
the day of her burial
the bow sticks in my throat
like a swallowed sob.
My shoulders hunch
my back feels tight
and something cracks inside
when I try to bow.
My exhaustion seeps into the sheets
and I push away the bow
that accepts
this need for rest.
Like two great Sumo wrestlers
their solid bulky forms
bowing before they begin
their great display
parts of my world square up
and face each other
the one who fights
and the one who surrenders
the moments of beauty
and the abruptness of death
my struggling Yes
and my defiant No
and I wonder how
my life could ever become
one long deep bow
to what is.
-Anne F O’Reilly
On CD Breathsong May 2011
If you read last month’s blog, Creativity vs Shadow, you will remember a brief mention of Deepak and Gotham Chopra’s book, The Seven Spiritual Laws of Superheroes. In the book Chopra identified shadow as a “force of the unconscious that can be destructive, divisive and/or self-sabotaging if it remains unconscious”. Shadow is difficult to recognize because left to it’s own devices it remains unconscious. Shadow is a zapping energy that lurks in the area of emotional suffering caused to oneself or to another. The concept can be broadly applied to families, groups, religions, governments, countries, etc. if we consider them bodies of energy.
It is often easy to recognize someone else’s shadow energy because it is not unconscious to us. It is recognizable it in the behavior of someone who is ‘acting out’ or conversely, someone who appears emotionless. Pointing out someone’s shadow is often met with resistance because shadow is tenacious. It develops as a coping mechanism over time. It pulls vital energy to it to enforce its stronghold.
Shadow is often the very issue that brings someone into therapy, although they may not recognize that aspect of themselves when they begin therapy. They come to therapy because they are suffering in some way and are looking for relief. Often therapy provides relief by helping people to understand their part in their own suffering and to develop new strategies to cope with their emotions.
Art therapy is a powerful tool for helping to get in touch with shadow. Art therapy brings images out from the unconscious to the surface where they can be experienced and felt through the senses and processed verbally. Creative arts therapies can include painting, drawing, collage, movement, sound, video, performance art, writing, dreams, digital media: such as dating profiles, pornography choices, avatars, gaming environments, etc.
Therapists often try to help clients to transform their emotional suffering (shadow) into well-being (freedom) through awareness and change of behaviors that do not ultimately serve their goals. Many of the blogs here on Good Therapy.org provide examples of shadow work. For example: Darren Haber, MFT, Addictions & Compulsions Topic Expert Contributor wrote about The Abused Husband a topic that is gravely under-reported. In Haber’s scenario, the most obvious example of shadow resides with the abuser. The abuser often does not know how s/he gets caught in the cycle of abuse that often escalates and can become very dangerous. The abused person on the other hand, not only suffers the abusers wrath but s/he is not able to understand how to stop the cycle of abuse by recognizing their complicity in it. I realize that my statement may jar strong reaction. Abuse is a dynamic between people. Darren Haber’s blog also contains a subtle example of shadow in the Abused Husband scenario. It resides with the onlooker who “even pumped her fist happily as she watched the woman slapping her partner.” Shadow is present in any violent act, or superficial judgment against another. In this example the onlooker’s shadow was triggered. It is particularly difficult to unravel a dynamic of abuse when it involves people whose lives are closely bonded.
Shadow is the part of the self that most humans get glimpses of but ignore or deny in favor of a self-perception that is ‘inflated’ or in some cases ‘deflated’ by ego. Neither ego inflation nor ego deflation can be sustained without some form of destructive result. For example: Jim Hutt, Ph.D., Family Problems Topic Expert Contributor too Good Therapy.org recently wrote in his blog, Resentful Compliance vs Commitment about a relationship where one person is “resentfully compliant” by doing what their partner wants, while they are “resentful about doing it”. Resentment falls to shadow. The resentful person may say to themselves, “oh, it doesn’t matter that my partner is getting their way again, it’s no big deal”, (ego deflation) when in actuality, resentment grows into a big deal because their true feelings are denied. The result can often be passive-aggressive behavior. The other partner may think that there is nothing wrong with being persistent and that getting their way is a sign of strength (ego inflation). Oftentimes that ego inflation comes out of a profound fear and vulnerability. Most of the time, without realizing how they are complicit in the toxic environment of the relationship both parties continue to project their emotions out onto the other.
In therapy, the therapist encounters shadow in the painful experiences that their clients share. The therapist and client build a safe relationship where shadow can be explored. Shadow is very difficult work because of resistance. The outcome of examining oneself and facing what has happened in one’s life, however, gives a person freedom to create change and use the wealth of energy that was tied up in shadow.
Yesterday Ellen walked into my office looking annoyed and confused. “I don’t know what to do. Robin invited me to her wedding and I don’t want to go, but I think I should. It’s a destination wedding, a long weekend in Mexico- four days! It might be fun but I can’t afford it, and I can’t take time off from work either. But I have to go.”
“Why do you have to go?” I asked.
“Because of what happened. Her parents both died in an auto accident last year, and she will feel awful getting married without them.”
“That is tragic. Who is standing up for her?”
“Luckily, Robin has brothers and a sister, aunts, uncles and cousins- a big family, and they will all be there.”
“That’s good. Are you and Robin close friends?”
“No. But I helped her out a lot when her parents died, and I feel like I have to go. I’ve been worrying about this all week, ever since I got the invitation. I went out and charged plane tickets and bought some really nice presents right away. Maybe I can find somebody to share a hotel room so I can save some bucks. I’m really over my head financially. I just can’t afford this…..”
“You feel you have to go, even though you can’t,” I said.
“What should I do? I’m driving myself crazy.”
“Well, explain to me why you think you have to go.”
“I told you, Robin’s parents died in an accident.”
“That’s awful, but why does that mean you have to go to the wedding?”
“To make up for her parents.”
“Oh, can you?”
“Of course not. But Robin expects me to be there. What should I do?”
So there you have it. That’s the problem. Ellen wanted me to tell her what to do, but I thought it was more important for Ellen to figure this out for herself. Perhaps I’ll tell you her decision- but maybe it’s more interesting to ask you what you think about the situation she found herself in. Difficult decisions like this have to be made by the person involved, not by the therapist. There are many answers; Ellen has to find out what is the best answer for herself. What does she really want to do? Maybe we can figure it out.
We have some clues to help with our detective work:
- Ellen bought the tickets immediately, even though she couldn’t afford to.
- She bought wedding presents- more than one, right away too. And she charged everything.
- After she spent the money, she worried about going. Ellen really didn’t have the money or, equally and maybe more important, the time. She had just started a new job and had no vacation time. Her boss might not like her taking time off right away.
- She feels like she HAS TO go. She never said she WANTED TO GO. I wondered if she was feeling guilty in her relationship with Robin. Ellen told me once that she feels like she has a charmed life- a loving family, a promising relationship, and a meaningful vocation. Robin’s life, by comparison, is far from charmed. Her parents both died young, her career is not going well. She is getting married, though. And, unlike Ellen, she has no money problems- she came into a lot of money when her parents died. Clearly, she would rather have her parents and not the money, but a hefty financial back up is some compensation.
- There are lots of things we all have to do; was going to the wedding a “have to”? It conflicted with Ellen’s job obligations; she was afraid her job might be in jeopardy if she just took time off. It was not easy to get this job, and she really liked it and needed it too.
- Ellen didn’t seem very excited about Robin’s wedding. Was she envious because she wanted to get married too?
- Ellen seemed stuck between obligation and generosity. If she really wanted to go, she would deal with the problems involved and get on with it. I know Ellen; she’s that kind of person. She sounded like she felt forced.
Generosity must come from the heart. If your head is telling you that you must, and your heart is saying otherwise, take another look at the situation. Ellen’s body language was pinched up and uncomfortable- anxious looking. She needed to find a free place inside herself to listen deeply and find out what she really wanted to do.
There are many answers. What would you do? What do you think Ellen decided to do?
Related articles:
Part II: Should You Attend a Friend’s Wedding Even If Your Heart Says “No”?
A Picture of Lasting Love
Love Is Not Enough
You might have heard that “love is the glue” that holds us together. I’d like to make a case for mindfulness as a similar connecting agent. In thinking of the work I am passionate about offering at Counseling on Capitol Hill, I’ve discovered that the various offerings have a common theme. What is it that couples counseling, Positive Discipline parent education, individual therapy, mindfulness coaching, and Family Therapy have in common?
Each of these offerings are about relationships, with ourselves, partners, kids, spirituality, and community. All of these relationships or domains depend on capacity and resilience.
When a child breaks a treasured dish, or tracks mud onto a newly-cleaned floor, it takes resilience to remember our compassionate self. If we see the experience of what is happening as larger than our capacity to tolerate, we send ourselves into crisis mode. In fight or flight mode, we don’t have access to clear thinking, empathy, or compassion. It is a good bet that if we are not prepared to handle this common occurrence, we will say or do something that we will regret.
[fat_widget_right]
What helps us develop capacity and resilience? The practice of mindfulness—with regard to our thoughts, emotions, sensations, and more—allows us to develop these abilities. Take the basic practice of awareness and counting of the breath, where we sit and bring attention to our normal breathing (available in most introductory books and articles, and demonstrated on my website’s mindfulness page). We set a timer for five minutes. During that time we note our “out breath” and our “in breath.” As with most attempts at concentration, we soon notice distracting noises, thoughts, and smells. We become aware of what is distracting us and then return to the simple focus on breath. Although it is a simple act, it is a very powerful way to develop resilience and capacity over time.
One wonderful and commonly-reported experience is that after meditating daily for a few weeks, we discover humor around the troubling eddies of thought that our minds often get stuck in. When my mind takes me back down familiar routes of thinking during mindfulness practice, I often chuckle at myself, noticing the dogged and familiar tendency before returning to my chosen focus. Humor is a sign that the door to resilience and greater capacity has been cracked open. What once took up my whole mind and started a heated reaction of frustration is now a bit smaller and doesn’t take up all the space.
I have seen similar developments in capacity with couples when they become familiar with their old patterns of disconnection. Once that pattern is named, it is easier to recognize. Sometimes a funny name helps too: we don’t want to go down that “toilet bowl” again! Another way of talking about capacity is how we say that we gain “distance” from things. Mindfulness practice and emotionally focused couples therapy both help create a bit of distance from and awareness of troubling patterns of disconnection.
Positive Discipline parent education (PD) also calls on us to maintain the space between ourselves as adults and the children and teens who we care about. PD is based on the observation that most negative behavior is based on a child’s mistaken belief about themselves or a mistaken attempt at getting a need met. For example, a child’s persistence might become annoying when they are acting on the mistake belief, “I don’t matter unless I am the center of attention.” Again, our work of developing capacity and resilience leads us to recognize the pattern and not get pulled into reacting to it.
Mindfulness coaching, individual, and family therapy also offer us the opportunity to recognize patterns and respond to ourselves and our loved ones with greater capacity. Greater capacity—knowing that we are not defined by a particular thought, behavior, or experience—allows us to have greater compassion. We’ve come full circle, as it is clear that our increased resilience is based on seeing who we are in relationship to our experience, rather than what happens. With increase capacity and resilience, it is a short leap to the belief that we are all trying to connect with others and our desires, and that sometimes we forget that others are good people in the same game.
Though it takes practice to entertain and maintain this perspective, through it we are able to approach and find balance in all five domains of relationship: personal, partnership, parenting, community, and spirituality. Instead of having to practice and maintain five things at once like a circus performer, we can intentionally choose to be in a few of our experiences each day. No matter how many times we get pulled off center, we can always choose to pull out one of the practices that helps us reground, relax, and relate. Whether you do mindfulness practice, therapy, playtime, tai chi, dancing, yoga, walking, cooking, or more as a way to feel better and reintegrate your five domains, your loving attention to yourself is developing more resilience and capacity in yourself and in the world. Keep up the good work!
I recently stumbled across a new blog called Infinite Daze where the author poignantly writes about her daily struggles with Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS). In a recent post titled Should I Stay or Should I Go Now, she has this to say about her marriage:
“I had a revelation today. During my son’s graduation ceremony at his high school, my husband came up to me and squatted down next to my wheelchair to share a story with me. Without thinking I ran my hand over his hair and down his arm. I’m still in love with this guy. He can be very nice. He can be very sweet. I married him because of this. This is why I find his behavior so baffling. I’ve known this guy just shy of 25 years. That is a long time. The meanness, the temper tantrums, the spitefulness is all new. I’ve never seen this in him before. Living with someone for 25 years means this isn’t behavior that has been hidden away. It is brand spanking new. It is why I’ve been blindsided with it. I so didn’t see this coming. It also makes the whole idea of divorce so messy. If he was always nasty this would be a no-brainer. I would up and leave in a heartbeat. But he swings hot and cold. One day he is super nice to me; takes good care of me and even gives me hugs. The next day he is slamming doors and telling me he wants out. I am so very confused.”
Ever feel like you’re living with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde? Your partner is warm, loving and compassionate one moment and angry, silent or indifferent the next. What’s up with that? You’ve most likely rubbed your partner’s “raw spot.”
We all struggle with vulnerable feelings in love whether we want to admit it or not. It’s inevitable that we will hurt each other with careless words or selfish actions. While these occasions sting, the pain is often fleeting and we get over it quickly. But according to Dr. Sue Johnson, founder of Emotionally Focused Therapy, almost all of us have at least one hypersensitivity – a raw spot in our emotional skin– that is tender to the touch, easily rubbed, and deeply painful. When this spot gets rubbed often enough, it can bleed all over our relationship.
For those of us in chronic marriages, this hypersensitivity can emerge seemingly out of nowhere at the onset of our illness when the need for support from our partner is particularly intense, but it doesn’t come. When our need for attachment and connection is repeatedly neglected, ignored or dismissed, it results in two potential raw spots: feeling emotionally deprived or deserted/abandoned.
I know my raw spot rather well. When I hear a tone of impatience in my husband’s voice (chronic illness-related or not), I get angry and defensive. It sends me back to days when my father would dismiss me as not being important or worthy enough of his time. My father’s impatience was his way of disconnecting from the relationship. This experience made me hypersensitive – impatience signals emotional abandonment to me.
Many of us have no idea what our own raw spots are, let alone our partners’. We simply get caught up in the same old vicious cycle of petty squabbles and conflicts when in actuality they are symptoms of a raw and tender spot on our emotional skin.
So how do you identify your raw spot?
Think about a time in your marriage when you got suddenly thrown off balance, when a small response or lack of response suddenly seemed to change your sense of safety or connection with your spouse, or when you got totally caught up in reacting in a way that you knew would spiral you into your usual dysfunctional pattern of relating. Maybe you are aware of a moment when you found yourself reacting very angrily or numbing out.
Let’s unpack this incident:
- What was happening in the relationship? What was the trigger that created a sense of emotional disconnection for you? What was your general feeling in the split second before you reacted and got mad or numb? What did your spouse specifically do or say that sparked this response?
- As you think of a moment when your own raw spot is rubbed, what happens to your body? You might feel spacey, detached, hot, breathless, tight in the chest, very small, empty, shaky, tearful, cold, on fire.
- What does your brain decide about the meaning of all this? What do you say to yourself when this happens?
- What did you do then? How do you move into action?
- See if you can tie in all these elements together by filling in the blanks below:
In this incident, the trigger for my raw feeling was _________. On the surface, I probably showed _____________. But deep down, I just felt (pick one of the basic negative emotions, sadness, anger, shame, fear). What I longed for was ___________. The main message I got about our bond, about me or my love was _________________.
Here are some common scenarios:
You experience a flare-up and it’s worse than usual. You are really struggling and looking for support and empathy from your husband. He begins to suggest ways you can get your flare-up under control. You hear his suggestions as him lecturing you. In your head you say to yourself, “He’s judging me. He’s not with me in this. I have to do this all on my own. My need for support doesn’t matter. This is scary”. What happens next? You start yelling and tell him he’s a jerk and you don’t need his help anyway.
Or how about this scenario?
Your husband asks you to watch a movie with him on the couch after dinner. Your head is pounding from a migraine and you tell him you’re tired and going to bed. The next morning you ask him if a certain outfit looks good on you. He says “it’s OK but since when does my opinion really make a difference here? Wear what you want. What I want is irrelevant.” Still stuck in feelings of rejection from the previous night, his sadness over lack of connection with you force him into withdrawal and giving you the silent treatment.
In both scenarios, rage and withdrawal mask the emotions that are central in vulnerability: sadness, shame, and most of all, fear.
If you find yourself continually stuck in an unhealthy pattern of relating with your spouse, you can bet it is being sparked by attempts to deal with the pain of a sore spot, or more likely, sore spots in both of you. And unfortunately, your raw spots almost inevitably rub against your spouse’s. Rub one in your spouse, and his or her reaction often irritates one in you.
What’s the dead giveaway that tells you your raw spot or your spouse’s raw spot has been hit?
First, there is a sudden and radical shift in the emotional tone of the conversation. You and your spouse were joking just a minute ago, but now one of you is upset or angry, or, conversely, aloof and cold. You are thrown off balance. It’s as if the rules changed and no one told you.
Second, your spouse’s reaction to a perceived offense seems way out of proportion.
These signs are all about attachment needs and fears popping up. They are all about our deepest and most powerful emotions suddenly taking over. We get set to move in a particular way, toward, away from, or against our spouse. This readiness to act is wired into every emotion. Anger tells us to approach and fight. Shame tells us to withdraw and hide. Fear tells us to flee or freeze, or in real extremes to turn back and attack back. Sadness tells us to grieve and let go.
All this happens in a nanosecond.
Stopping these destructive patterns depends not only on identifying and stopping our unhealthy ways of relating but also on finding and soothing our raw spots and helping our spouse to do the same.
Here’s how you do just that:
- Stop the Game – one or both of you has to say “Can we stop this? This is the place we always go. We get trapped here and we end up totally exhausted and defeated.”
- Claim Your Own Moves – together come up with a short summary of your moves. e.g. you lose it while your spouse pretends not to be affected; you get louder and threaten; your spouse sees you as impossible and withdraws.
- Claim Your Own Feelings – talk about your own feelings rather than focusing on your spouse and blaming everything on him/her.
- Own How You Shape Your Partner’s Feelings – Recognize how your usual way of dealing with your emotions pulls your spouse off balance and turns on deeper attachment fears.
- Ask About Your Partner’s Deeper Emotions – Look at the big picture and slow down a little. Begin to be curious about your spouse’s softer, underlying emotions, rather than just listening to your own hurts and fears and assuming the worst about your spouse.
- Share Your Own Deeper, Softer Emotions – Although voicing your deepest emotions, especially fears around not being connected or attached to your spouse, may be the most difficult step for you, it is also the most rewarding. Let your spouse see what’s really at stake when you argue.
- Stand Together – Take the above steps and forge a renewed and true partnership. You now have a common ground and cause. You no longer see each other as enemies but allies. You can take control of escalating negative conversations that feed your insecurities and face those insecurities together.
Content for this article has been adapted from the book Hold Me Tight by Dr. Sue Johnson.