A second year student (a male) and I have some couples that we see as a team. We call this "co-therapy." Co-therapy is cool for many reasons, but can be problematic when the therapists have very different theoretical approaches. Like say one therapist is a "solution-focused" therapist, while the other is an "emotionally-focused" therapist.
Guess which one of us is which (if you are feeling unsure, remember, my co-therapist is of the male gender).
Though we have a great deal of respect for each other and each other's styles, sometimes (like a few hours ago when we stepped out in the middle of a session) we have conversations like this:
Co: "Emily, you really make people aware of their emotional vulnerabilities."
Me: "Thank you."
Co: "No, I mean, really fast, really early in the process."
Me: "Thank you so much."
Co: "Emily, this is not a compliment."
Me: "Oh, I think it is. You know, I'm sensing some anxiety from you right now, are you feeling hurt?"
Co: "No, I'm not feeling hurt, I'm feeling pissed off."
Me: "You know, anger is a secondary emotion, it is always covering up something... like hurt."
Co: "Shut up."
Me: "Just let it all out, don't be afraid."
Monday, July 19, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
the weakness
I've heard this snippit of a verse a lot lately that I had never noticed before “You desire truth in the inner parts..." (psalm 51). I've been thinking about it. And perhaps it is only part the power of the verse, and more so how it has interacted with my particular moment in life that speaks to me. I have learned this theoretical approach to counseling which (put simply) posits that we all have disparate parts of our minds, personalities if you will, and that in loving and integrating these we find health and wholeness.
So with this theory in my repertoire and this verse to spur me on I've been consciously trying to do this lately. Consciously try to see, hear, respect, and integrate all the parts of me. At first it was easy. I mean, I have some pretty fun parts. I have a dramatic part, an adventurous part, an intellectual philosopher. I have a deeply empathetic part who can take on the pain of the world. All these I embrace with open arms. “Yes please come and stay with me! Speak to me from your wisdom and I will venture forth!” I love these parts. But in this process I discover others hanging out in my inner homestead. Scared and vulnerable parts, hopeless parts, helpless, whiny, and – the most loathed – a needy part. I have a needy part who speaks to me of my inability to function on my own, my inability to overcome circumstances, and of the uncertainty of my future.
What can I do with these?? I don't want them living with me! I don't want to hear their incompetent voices crying for help. I want them out. Or, at least locked away in the basement so I don't have to listen to them. But, says my theory, therein lies the problem. The more I attempt to silence these parts, the more desperate they become. The more my inner world begins to show the tension that comes of “keeping up appearances.”
So, I've been trying to invite them back in. Trying to show them a place at the table. Trying to give them space to tell me what it is they need so badly. But still I can not contain my disgust. I am like a child whose mother forces her to invite the unpopular kid to her birthday party. It's written all over my face even as I show them to their seats, “You aren't really welcome here, I'm too good for you.” So they sit with their heads down, afraid to speak lest they be exiled again. And pity begins to grow in me. Shadows of other teachings come to my mind about God using the weak things to shame the wise.... of God loving our weakness.
Yet I am afraid. I am afraid if I embrace them that they will overwhelm and control me. But evidently, from what I know of this psychological theory, and from spiritual teachings, as long as I cannot accept the weakness in myself, as long as I despise it and only offer it a seat out of forced politeness; I also can not truly love and accept the weak ones of this world. In the measure that I disown myself, hate myself, I also hate them. I must love my brother, even as I love myself, or truly, I do not love either.
And as of this moment this is where I sit. I have called them out of the basement and made a place for them, but I cannot yet look in their eyes and call them mine... I cannot yet love my weakness, because I am afraid of who I will be if I do. If I love weakness will I be weak and incompetent? And isn't this what so many treacherous leaders have done? Didn't Hitler say, “You must get rid of the weak and the lame or we will be weak”? But Jesus said, “bring them to me.” Jesus said he wanted them in his Kingdom first. “But Jesus,” I argue “you can't mean the kind of weakness I'm talking about, you could never love my needy part, she is so ridiculous, no one could stand to be in her presence for long.”
And I want to hear him answer - yes, I long to know he says, “Oh how I love her Emily, oh how I love all of you.” But I can't yet. I can't.
So with this theory in my repertoire and this verse to spur me on I've been consciously trying to do this lately. Consciously try to see, hear, respect, and integrate all the parts of me. At first it was easy. I mean, I have some pretty fun parts. I have a dramatic part, an adventurous part, an intellectual philosopher. I have a deeply empathetic part who can take on the pain of the world. All these I embrace with open arms. “Yes please come and stay with me! Speak to me from your wisdom and I will venture forth!” I love these parts. But in this process I discover others hanging out in my inner homestead. Scared and vulnerable parts, hopeless parts, helpless, whiny, and – the most loathed – a needy part. I have a needy part who speaks to me of my inability to function on my own, my inability to overcome circumstances, and of the uncertainty of my future.
What can I do with these?? I don't want them living with me! I don't want to hear their incompetent voices crying for help. I want them out. Or, at least locked away in the basement so I don't have to listen to them. But, says my theory, therein lies the problem. The more I attempt to silence these parts, the more desperate they become. The more my inner world begins to show the tension that comes of “keeping up appearances.”
So, I've been trying to invite them back in. Trying to show them a place at the table. Trying to give them space to tell me what it is they need so badly. But still I can not contain my disgust. I am like a child whose mother forces her to invite the unpopular kid to her birthday party. It's written all over my face even as I show them to their seats, “You aren't really welcome here, I'm too good for you.” So they sit with their heads down, afraid to speak lest they be exiled again. And pity begins to grow in me. Shadows of other teachings come to my mind about God using the weak things to shame the wise.... of God loving our weakness.
Yet I am afraid. I am afraid if I embrace them that they will overwhelm and control me. But evidently, from what I know of this psychological theory, and from spiritual teachings, as long as I cannot accept the weakness in myself, as long as I despise it and only offer it a seat out of forced politeness; I also can not truly love and accept the weak ones of this world. In the measure that I disown myself, hate myself, I also hate them. I must love my brother, even as I love myself, or truly, I do not love either.
And as of this moment this is where I sit. I have called them out of the basement and made a place for them, but I cannot yet look in their eyes and call them mine... I cannot yet love my weakness, because I am afraid of who I will be if I do. If I love weakness will I be weak and incompetent? And isn't this what so many treacherous leaders have done? Didn't Hitler say, “You must get rid of the weak and the lame or we will be weak”? But Jesus said, “bring them to me.” Jesus said he wanted them in his Kingdom first. “But Jesus,” I argue “you can't mean the kind of weakness I'm talking about, you could never love my needy part, she is so ridiculous, no one could stand to be in her presence for long.”
And I want to hear him answer - yes, I long to know he says, “Oh how I love her Emily, oh how I love all of you.” But I can't yet. I can't.
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