Have you ever apologized to a therapist for walking in with nothing to talk about? Has a therapist ever told you this can lead to the best sessions? In this chapter of Plain Talk about Talk Therapy, we'll explore how walking in with things to say in therapy can impair your progress. Conversely, how walking in with nothing to say can lead to profound insights. If you know what to do with this state of mind. Do you know? Let's see. |

Arriving With Things to Talk AboutI once had a therapist ask me if I would be willing to do less in therapy. In effect, she was asking me to let her do more of the work. What made her ask? She never said directly. I came to realize though that she was referring to the fact that I came in every week "well prepared" for therapy. Translation. I arrived each week with an agenda. An already chosen plan for what we'd talk about. My response to her? "You're right. I don't want to waste my sessions." So what's the big deal. A lot of people do this. Is this really such a bad thing anyway? The big deal is, without realizing it, I was limiting what we spoke about to predigested life events. Stories I either already understood or felt on my way to understanding. This meant I pretty much always arrived with the session content already in progress. Before we even spoke word one. Was this such a bad thing though? Yes, in fact, it was. Why? In essence, it meant I never had to expose too much of myself. At least none of what I had yet to prepare answers for. I also got to avoid facing all of the more shameful material in me. The stuff I felt no one could help me with. Or accept about me. Along with the stuff I was yet to feel ready to see in myself. And feared I might never be ready to see. The point is, by always arriving with things to talk about, I never had to face a lot of things in myself. Of course, at the time, I did not realize this. Quite the opposite, in fact. I even remember thinking that my having things to work on made me a good client for her. Not too boring nor too difficult to work with and at the same time, willing to self examine. The thing is, by arriving with my sessions already under way, in actuality, I was being a terrible client. Well maybe not terrible. But certainly misdirected. And definitely well defended. Now the kicker. Years later, while thinking back on all the therapists I'd ever worked with, I remembered this woman. And while I recall her as being a warm, kind, and supportive woman, she was not a very dynamic therapist. Certainly nowhere near up to the task of getting a "too smart for his own good" man like me to open up. So what was I really hiding? The fact that I did not believe she could help me. What am I saying? I am saying that while being kind and supportive has it's place in therapy, a therapist also needs the courage to speak up. The courage to ask downright ballsy questions, in fact. Why? Because the best therapists face this discomfort by asking risking questions. Unfortunately, this question about my arriving at therapy "too well prepared" was about the only risky question this therapist ever asked me in my entire four years with her. My point? For four years, I treaded water. And she helped. And while I certainly gained a few insights during that four years, I also managed to avoid most of what was really troubling me. Not the least of which was my unconscious need to take care of a therapist whom I feared was not up to the task. Ergo my arriving with predigested session material; a mother bird client feeding a baby bird therapist, if you will. In other words, her question to me that day was probably the best piece of therapy she did with me. It certainly was my stuck point in therapy for that whole four years. Moreover, because she never could help me to see my way past it, inadvertently, I felt compelled to take care of her for whole four years. Why? Because I could not face the fact that my therapist, a woman whom I was really fond of, was not able to get me to do the real work. Know this happened years before I became a therapist. Not that this would have helped. You see, not once during my years of training was I ever taught to watch for this. Whatever the case, in the end, we both lost, albeit, I am still grateful to her for her kindness and non judgment. In these areas, she was an excellent therapist. Why mention all this? Because twenty plus years later, this skill; knowing when a client is trying to take care of me, has become one of my more valued skills. This and telling people I like it when they come in with nothing to talk about. Which, whenever this happens, always reminds me of how I used to come into therapy in just the opposite state; with too much to talk about. All so that I would not hurt my therapist's feelings by exposing her inabilities as a therapist. Obviously, for me to be mentioning this, I must have, at some point, healed this wound. The proof? I now love the very thing I once felt compelled to avoid; having nothing to talk about in therapy. Perhaps this is why, whenever someone comes in apologizing for having nothing to talk about, I fondly remark, I always find these sessions are the best. And they are. What makes these sessions the best? As my father used to say, "they've got potential." And they do. Especially if you know how to ask ballsy questions. As well as where to find these questions, something I call, the 12 Block Markers. The twelve categories of risk taking healing questions. What are "Block Markers?" And how do they help people heal? Let's look. The 12 Block Markers IntroducedWhat I'm about to show you is the twelve categories of risky questions with which I find peoples' wounds. Straight to the heart, definitely risky, but powerfully charged questions. Know their power lies in the fact that the person can be symptom free and they still find wounds. Now without further ado (and setting aside for another time the theory which underlies these 12 categories), here they are. My twelve core strategies for locating wounds. [ 1] Vivid Recall of a Painful Event Let's start with the obvious; what is a Block Marker? A Block Marker is a sort of mental pointer to a time during which you were once startled into blankness by a painful event. After which you have a sort of psychological "hole" in your ability to picture, something which results in a feeling quite similar to how knowing a pothole is in a road impairs your ability to drive. Literally, we all have these blank spots in our minds. Psychologically speaking, anyway. More important, finding these holes is the single most empirical method for finding our injuries. Am I being too vague? Let me offer an example. When I was a boy, two little girls in my class were standing in front of a store on a busy highway. A tractor trailer lost its brakes and hit and killed one of them right in front of the other. No surprise that the little girl who was six at the time could not remember this happening. But because of what happened, she also had a blocked ability to picture tractor trailers. She literally could not bring one to mind ever when asked to make one up. Of course, most of us will never have an event this terrible happen to us. Even so, we all have certain things we have lost the ability to visualize. Psychological potholes in the roads in our minds so to speak. Moreover, this blocked ability to even imagine these things is the one thing all human wounds have in common. We cannot picture something about the event. Even if we know with certainty this thing happened to us. And even if we are asked to simply make this thing up. Still confused? What I'm saying is, while human beings, by nature, prefer to use logic to explore their suffering, real healing lies not in logic but rather in exploring these visual blank spots. The places wherein we can no longer picture life even when asked to make it up. Ironically, we never notice the significance of this inability let alone that it is the single most important feature in all of talk therapy. Know we'll explore this visual paradox in depth in later chapters. For now it is enough to know that these twelve categories of lost abilities to picture life exist. And that they are simply the best way to locate mental / emotional injuries. How do they work exactly? Let's take the first category. Vivid recall of a painful event. Okay. Ask yourself, can you vividly recall any painful event? I can. Immediately. I can vividly picture myself, fourteen years old, mindlessly pacing the open bays of a small town Shell gas station. It was Sunday and my father had decided to skip Mass and hide out in the gas station. I can even picture the dirty white walls with fan belts hanging from metal hooks, and the dozens of new tires stacked high on shelves. What happened next is what injured me. Bored with watching my little sister, I inched over to the half open office door to peak in. At which point, I heard my father tell the whole group of old Italian men that I would never amount to anything. At which point I froze in shame and shock and then had my mind suddenly go blank. Obviously I have amounted to something. This I know. Not only because my father, who died last year, was fond of telling me this but also because I have healed this block and can now picture past this point; my sister asked me if I was okay. Before healing this wound though, I literally had trouble picturing myself being successful at anything. And even when I was successful, I still could not picture myself in the scene. Vivid recall of a painful event. My number one way to find peoples' injuries. Exploring this scene, in fact, was my way into a very large and painful category of wounds in my life. As well as my route to healing these wounds. Now let's take another. Category number twelve. Feeling Compelled to Do Ordinary Acts. Here, my first memory is of coming home from a vacation to an already perfectly clean house, only to within minutes be screamed at by my then girlfriend for cleaning an already perfectly clean stove. Yes, she was being mean. However, she was right. I felt compelled to clean already clean things. A painful compulsion left over from my childhood. And a first class pot hole in my psychological life; I literally could not see already clean things as being clean. Shades of TV's Odd Couple and Felix Unger, eh? Imagine how hard I was to live with. Today, I no longer feel ashamed of minor clutter, nor of incomplete projects, nor of undone laundry. All once symptoms of a wound which for years compelled me to live a life in which cleaning already clean things took precedence over connecting with the people I loved. Feeling Compelled to Do Ordinary Acts. This block marker is how I found this injury in me. Vividly recalling it then enabled me to heal it, by noticing where my mind went blank. Now let's look at one more category, the sixth category; The Experience of Having No Choice. Here, the first thing that comes to mind for me is a scene from when I was in fifth grade. In this scene, a teacher is complimenting me at the expense of the other kids. After which, I felt no choice other than to hide any and all signs that I was smart, lest this make other kids mad at me. In other words, prior to my healing this wound, whenever someone said to me that something I did or said was smart, I felt no choice but to convince them they were just as smart. Even if they had no ability in this area, and even if my telling them this belittled their compliment to me to the point of hurting their feelings. Again, by using a block marker; the experience of having no choice, I was able to find this wound. And eventually heal it. Even to the point where today, I rather like being told I'm smart. No big ego, mind you. Nor the need to make someone else feel good. Just a little boy's lit up smile. The kind I might have felt back in fifth grade if I had not been wounded that day. The 12 Block Markers in DetailNow allow me to voice these twelve categories of therapist's risky starting points as sentences I might actually say in sessions. Starting with Category One: Vivid recall of a painful event. Can you vividly recall any painful event from a prior time in your life? A life event you have never forgotten? Something which may feel like it just happened to you yesterday? You'll find additional starting points in the following:
Category Two: An Inability to Picture a Common Childhood Event. Can you picture your first day of school, a birthday party, or a gift you once received? Can you remember, visually, being home sick from school, or being on a vacation, or being taken to a doctor's office? Other possible events to explore would be:
Category Three: Hating an Ordinary Life Event. Is there a food you hate eating? Any task you hate doing? Is there a phrase you hate hearing? Is there a style of clothing you hate seeing? You'll find other good starting points in the following.
Category Four: Under-reacting to a Loving Event. Do you go blank when someone says you look good today? Do you find yourself unable to acknowledge help? Other possible areas would be:
Category Five: Under-reacting to a Violent Event. Do you feel blank inside when someone yells at you. Do you respond to peoples' suffering with cold, hard facts? How about offering casual advice to the broken hearted? Or cliches to those who recently lost a loved one? How about being verbally abused and saying it's no big deal? Additional things to look at would be:
Category Six: Having No Choice. Ever found yourself offering this sentence as an excuse for having done something you knew you shouldn't have done? "I had no choice?" Really. You had no choice? Some other possible situations in which you might do this would be:
Category Seven: Feeling Urgency During Ordinary Life Events. Have you ever felt urges to yell at a waiter for your meal coming too slow. Especially when you were in no hurry and were not starving to death. Other possibilities are:
Category Eight: Feeling Abandoned During Ordinary Life Events. Children feel abandonment. Adults feel betrayed or annoyed. Thus, the essence of this category is feeling a young child's panic when there is no danger and nothing wrong. Other ways of saying this are:
Category Nine: Feeling Trapped During Nonviolent Life Events. Have you ever felt unable to leave a classroom to use the rest room, even to the point of worrying you'll burst open any minute? Additional ways in which this wound appears are:
Category Ten: Repeatedly Making the Same Painful Error. Ever find yourself repeatedly fighting the same fight in a romantic relationship? Day after day. Year after year. This despite promises that you'll never say or do these things again? If so, know you are not stupid. You are simply blocked. Here, other examples would be:
Category Eleven: Feeling Markedly Older or Younger During Ordinary Life Events. Here, the event could be anything, from talking in front of people to being asked to sing a song. Class reunions and family functions are a good place to find these kinds of blocks. More questions could come from asking about:
Category Twelve: Feeling Compelled to Do Ordinary Acts. Here we have the source of the dreaded Felix Unger disease. As well as a whole lot of other insidious relationship breakers. The basic list is:
This Chapter's Session NotesHave I just overwhelmed you with all this data? If so, I am sorry. Please know though that there is no need for you to memorize any of this stuff. In fact, once you've successfully used something from each category once, these categories will usually come right back to you. More so if you do not feel the need to parrot them back to anyone. How could you begin to learn these categories then? Pick one and try it out on yourself. For instance, pick category number three, ordinary things you hate. Now ask yourself, is there any ordinary thing you hate? Eating lima beans. Listening to opera. If so, spend some time visually exploring in a scene in which this thing is present. To do what? To determine how much of this thing you can and cannot bring to mind. Visually. Not logically. In other words, you are not merely looking for the missing mental details, mind you. Nor what you can remember. Rather, you are looking to discover how much of this thing you cannot picture on the screen of your mind. The pothole in your psyche, so to speak. Know this can be especially potent in times wherein you cannot picture something even when you ask yourself to simply make it up. Can't imagine a single example? Then you have a blocked mind. What's the goal here? For now, it's to create a personal library of what I call, "representative events" for each category of Block Markers. Personal examples with which to easily bring to mind these twelve categories of starting points with which to explore both your own wounds and the wounds of others. One more thing. Pay special attention to my language here. What I'm saying is, I have voiced everything in these categories in other than therapist's jargon. Why? Because talk therapy voiced in jargon is one of the worst errors a therapist can make. An outright oxymoron, in fact. After all, aren't we seeking to learn how to better connect to others? Including to our inner selves. My point is, plainly spoken words are the truly best medicine here. Plain talk about plain old hurts leads to good old plain healing. Nothing wrong here. Know it does take courage to speak about hurts straight out, without the professional distancing which jargon creates. On the other hand, anything you put between you and your healing will hurt your chances get a better life. Finally, on this note, can you imagine what it would be like if therapists' professional literature, books such as the DSM-IV R (the psychologist's Diagnostic and Statistical Manual) described human suffering in this kind of everyday language. Wow. What a concept. Understandable names for our psychological wounds. Can you imagine? I myself would love for this to happen. How about you? Until the next chapter then. I hope you are well, Steven |
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