After yesterday’s food for thought, today a client told me that coming to see me was like picking at a scab. All that happens is that the wound is briefly reopened, looked at, and then nothing changes and it just scabs over until the next session where we do it all over again.
I gently remind them that they came in the first place because how they were dealing with the issues in their life wasn’t working.
‘Oh yes, I agree. But this isn’t working either.’
Hmm.
As before, lots to think about there and reflect upon.
Is it because now isn’t the right time for them? Is it because feeling resistant to therapy can be part of the journey? Is it because change is hard, and we tend to follow the path we’re familiar with?
Or is it because I’m not challenging this client enough? Am I doing too much reflecting and empathising, when what’s needed is more of a tough love type of approach?
Or - as ever- quite probably a bit of both.
Sunday 10 November 2019
Monday 14 October 2019
Client feedback
Today I had a final session with a client that I’ve been seeing for a few months.
Me: So is there anything useful from our time together that you could use going forward? Any strategies, or things you found helpful?
Client: Not really, no.
😐
Working with teenagers is just so rewarding, they told me.
Now, I can put this response down to coming back after a break of a few weeks, or to the client finding it difficult to articulate the benefits of therapy (he did come regularly every week, so I like to think he must have been getting something out of it). But. Self-reflection is an important and essential part of this work and I need to think about what this feedback means for me. What could I have done better? What can I learn from this?
I also finished with another, adult client today.
‘These sessions have been massively helpful, I just can’t thank you enough... I don’t know what I would have done without them,’ the client enthused.
Their praise made me feel a bit uncomfortable and to want to downplay my part in it. ‘Oh, the hard work was yours, I’m just a guide’ I said.
Why do we find it so hard to accept compliments? Yes, absolutely the emotional hard work was the client’s, but my part is far from insignificant. A lot of the time my colleagues and I feel like we’re fighting to gain respect and to get people to understand that what we do is more than just tea and sympathy, and then I’m playing into this by minimising my own skills and experience.
Imposter syndrome? British reserve?
Lots to reflect upon from both clients today, anyway.
Me: So is there anything useful from our time together that you could use going forward? Any strategies, or things you found helpful?
Client: Not really, no.
😐
Working with teenagers is just so rewarding, they told me.
Now, I can put this response down to coming back after a break of a few weeks, or to the client finding it difficult to articulate the benefits of therapy (he did come regularly every week, so I like to think he must have been getting something out of it). But. Self-reflection is an important and essential part of this work and I need to think about what this feedback means for me. What could I have done better? What can I learn from this?
I also finished with another, adult client today.
‘These sessions have been massively helpful, I just can’t thank you enough... I don’t know what I would have done without them,’ the client enthused.
Their praise made me feel a bit uncomfortable and to want to downplay my part in it. ‘Oh, the hard work was yours, I’m just a guide’ I said.
Why do we find it so hard to accept compliments? Yes, absolutely the emotional hard work was the client’s, but my part is far from insignificant. A lot of the time my colleagues and I feel like we’re fighting to gain respect and to get people to understand that what we do is more than just tea and sympathy, and then I’m playing into this by minimising my own skills and experience.
Imposter syndrome? British reserve?
Lots to reflect upon from both clients today, anyway.
Friday 22 February 2019
I’m sitting here in a very quiet house, listening to the fridge hum and occasionally gurgle, and I’m thinking about the future.
It’s very quiet because all three children aren’t here right now. Two are camping and one is at a friend’s and the best word to describe it all is weird.
Having child-free time isn’t actually that unusual, but what is is when it goes on beyond 3.15 (or more realistically, 3.12 which is when I leave the house to pick them up. Yes, I live really quite close to school). Six hours is on the one hand a lot of time to have child-free, but if say you meet friends for a 10k run at 10 am, struggle around the route chosen by your friend which may or may not include having to barefoot it across a ford IN DECEMBER, have lunch, come home, shower, and nap (because running 10k is bloody exhausting) then that’s the day gone, basically. So often I find myself wanting more time (don’t we all).
Today I’ve got more time than I had things planned for. Sounds bliss, doesn’t it? But now I’m thinking I should have planned things more, taken more advantage. And I’m really missing the nonsensical laughter at things that are well, nonsense. Or being able to make them laugh by pulling a funny face or just dancing badly (I’m still hoping that I might become famous and make Strictly one day. Shut up, it could happen).
And one day this house will be quiet all the time. Not for ages, of course, and I know how grown-up children have a habit of bouncing back home for intervals, but there will come a time when I won’t hear laughter, playing, fighting, crying, singing etc etc. And I’ll really miss it.
For all things a season and so on, and in the same way that a counselling relationship starts with a view to ending, parenting will always have a view to them becoming adults and not needing us in the same way. It’s just so hard to imagine right now.
It’s very quiet because all three children aren’t here right now. Two are camping and one is at a friend’s and the best word to describe it all is weird.
Having child-free time isn’t actually that unusual, but what is is when it goes on beyond 3.15 (or more realistically, 3.12 which is when I leave the house to pick them up. Yes, I live really quite close to school). Six hours is on the one hand a lot of time to have child-free, but if say you meet friends for a 10k run at 10 am, struggle around the route chosen by your friend which may or may not include having to barefoot it across a ford IN DECEMBER, have lunch, come home, shower, and nap (because running 10k is bloody exhausting) then that’s the day gone, basically. So often I find myself wanting more time (don’t we all).
Today I’ve got more time than I had things planned for. Sounds bliss, doesn’t it? But now I’m thinking I should have planned things more, taken more advantage. And I’m really missing the nonsensical laughter at things that are well, nonsense. Or being able to make them laugh by pulling a funny face or just dancing badly (I’m still hoping that I might become famous and make Strictly one day. Shut up, it could happen).
And one day this house will be quiet all the time. Not for ages, of course, and I know how grown-up children have a habit of bouncing back home for intervals, but there will come a time when I won’t hear laughter, playing, fighting, crying, singing etc etc. And I’ll really miss it.
For all things a season and so on, and in the same way that a counselling relationship starts with a view to ending, parenting will always have a view to them becoming adults and not needing us in the same way. It’s just so hard to imagine right now.
I've been thinking a lot in the last 24 hours or so about choices, or lack of.
Yesterday I spoke with someone in an abusive relationship, and we talked about power and control. She has neither (or, more correctly, she feels like she doesn't).
I am (mostly) happily married, I (mostly) love my work; all in all I'm incredibly lucky and fortunate. What struck me yesterday is that where I am most lucky/made the best choice is in my husband.
This isn't a 'I'm so clever, I would never be so stupid as to have a relationship with an abusive man' post. The woman I talked with didn't, to begin with. When I was younger I did have a relationship with someone (I hesitate to call him a man) who, although not physically abusive, tried to distance me from my family and friends, put me down, gaslighted me, lied, cheated, basically made me feel crap and like he knew best. Fairly low level stuff compared to what so many women go through, and he never hit me. We were only together for a few years, but what if we'd stayed together? What if we'd had children? Then I would be in the same position as the woman I talked to.
From a distance it all seems so simple. If he hits you, leave. If he cheats, leave.
But I'm left sitting here feeling like it wouldn't have been a stretch for that to be me. I'm also feeling helpless in my ability to make a difference to her.
Yesterday I spoke with someone in an abusive relationship, and we talked about power and control. She has neither (or, more correctly, she feels like she doesn't).
I am (mostly) happily married, I (mostly) love my work; all in all I'm incredibly lucky and fortunate. What struck me yesterday is that where I am most lucky/made the best choice is in my husband.
This isn't a 'I'm so clever, I would never be so stupid as to have a relationship with an abusive man' post. The woman I talked with didn't, to begin with. When I was younger I did have a relationship with someone (I hesitate to call him a man) who, although not physically abusive, tried to distance me from my family and friends, put me down, gaslighted me, lied, cheated, basically made me feel crap and like he knew best. Fairly low level stuff compared to what so many women go through, and he never hit me. We were only together for a few years, but what if we'd stayed together? What if we'd had children? Then I would be in the same position as the woman I talked to.
From a distance it all seems so simple. If he hits you, leave. If he cheats, leave.
But I'm left sitting here feeling like it wouldn't have been a stretch for that to be me. I'm also feeling helpless in my ability to make a difference to her.
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