I talk about what happened - I'd been on a trip to Arron. I'd got tickets to see the band that got me through my son's psychosis. They cancelled. I looked for my lost daughter in the streets of Glasgow. I couldn't find her.
He's asking me, 'what was it like?'
One more Portal map, one more weaving straw into gold, one more challenge that appeared to be impossible. And I got through with out breaking or crumpling or giving up!.
He says - "It's still very present isn't it"
I say - "Is it? The memories are clear - present? It is unfinished. But it's me doing the best I can do..."
He says - "So why is there a problem now"?
What? If I hadn't talked about where I'd been - I'd be talking about the endless writing assignments nightmare that is college! I'm not here to process my expedition to the North. I was only sharing my adventure. In my family the recitation of disasters was a thing, the more awful the event, the more heroic is the teller of the tale!
Regardless I stay with his 'reality'.
I say - "I would like more, the music to play and the credits to roll. For everyone to say to me 'well done'. No one says well done!"
He says - "Who would say ' well done'?
I have already said it - no one will say 'well done' - those were my words! And if I name them? I will break. My family is shattered, the people who would have said well done, are gone. So I answer with who else I would like to say it, and I say how much I deserve the well done!
He replies - "It doesn't sound quite enough"
I think it probably is!
At a certain point there is an invite to 'play philosophy' because I've referred to a 'self'. Philosophy is a game I enjoy. But I feel dejected and helpless after thinking about who wouldn't say well done! And this isn't good.
Plus I've been told that what I say I want isn't really what I want (as it doesn't 'sound enough').
And then we are talking about institutional injustice and I feel that I'm hearing him when he says that sometimes it is the therapist's job to help a client write the letter to the solicitor, to support their choice to go to the police - or not...Now we are on the same page! And then away, and back via my assignment to where he started; which is that in his opinion human development is all of what counselling is about.
So I say - in reply to his explanations about transactional analysis -"Seems so complicated - why don't you just ask the client what he wants?"
He says - "Because it wont work, they wont know - because all that will do is reveal the stuckness of the Child (ego state) 'well what I want is that but I can't do that because it will make me a bad person'"
I don't say - Oh, I'd ask them - 'I hear you say doing that will make you a bad person, but I'm wondering what it is about that thing you can't do or have, that would make your life better? - Instead I stay with his statement.
I reply - "I suppose I'd hope by asking that I'd get to the Adult "
He - "We can never get to the Adult - if the Child is standing in the way. The Child will scream and shout and stamp until the Child is satisfied. Or until the Child has understood that this isn't going to get me what I want. But we have to address the Child.
Me - "How do you address the Child"?
He - "I would...I want to talk to the Child in the person sat opposite to me. so I might ask something like 'Yeah, but if I stand up for myself I'll be a really bad person' and I would say something like 'who told you standing up for yourself was bad'? And usually, sometimes straight away, we get there. and we talk about the implacable Parent, about the emotionally punishing Parent, and you locate where that comes from. Once it is located where it comes from, the Child is recognized. Once the Child is recognized, the Child can start to be happy. 'Oh you can see me now, I can relax now' and then we can move into Adult. I mean this is why this is why development isn't a bit of counselling, this is all of it. Because it is all developmental in the end. And this is why I say time isn't linear because all that stuff a person experienced as a child is what is called in Gestalt Unfinished Business' and it keeps sticking around until it is finished. And it can never be finished until it is recognized, and recognizing it takes work, it usually takes a lot of work. Usually its a bit like, the body going through the windscreen of a car. You pick out all the big pieces of glass that's easy, and then for weeks and months and sometimes years later, little tiny pieces that you never noticed before that had worked their way into the skin. That's what it's like - is this making sense?"
My view remains unchanged; acknowledge that life is complicated, embrace the truth that we are making the best of it as we go along. We are all attempting to navigate the inevitable crashing rocks and stormy seas of life. Follow the energy, and trust in love.
But really, learn to swim!
And perhaps that sounds harsh?
But the parents in my head are all me...my memories, my lack of understanding.
But if I had the actual recordings... this is the only way a person can assess the past.
And so I find myself marooned - to stay with the plane crash metaphor. I've just watched Society of the Snow . And as in the film, as in the awful reality of those real events, action must be taken. There will be no rescue otherwise, no getting out. So what action do I want to happen? In counselling, and between counsellors, what counts as resolution is usually an apology of about a thousand words. Those words need to convey to the injured other, a real understanding of the harm done, and a heartfelt regret. And how I manage to convey to Kit that this demonstration of awareness is appropriate and needed. How to do this? I don't know. Yet. Do I make a formal complaint? The first option is to get in contact with the therapist and explain that there is a problem, and ask for some kind of resolution to be worked out. If that isn't forthcoming, if the therapist doesn't acknowledge that there has been and still is a problem, then a complaint is justified. A therapist who h...
OK, this is hard - I need to dig deep. The pain of it is almost beyond my endurance, and yet at the same time I am above, observing, watching and recording. The pain is like wearing a dress made of nettles. And so I turn towards it, embrace it and connect. Holding out my hand I ask into the empty air, 'what is your name? ' In the roiling blackness of the void I hear the words 'I am your intoxication'. Gently I ask the pain, what do you need? My hand touches something cold and rough, like shark's skin. And below me deep under an ocean of tears and a crimson gush of my heart's-blood, the words 'love and soul ' boil, radiant and poisonous as a nuclear flash. The sun turns blue, a 'vision' of Cherenkov light, 'the blue sun' I'd seen in my semi-psychotic state when I had left the therapy room for the last time. "love and soul..." Returning from inside to out, directing my vision to the keyboard, to the soft white light of th...
Yesterday I sat in the shadow of the Tor. I had come here to complete the June visit - I connected my mp3 player to the sound bar and played a song by a young man whose death had led me here. I thought of standing up, before letting the sounds ripple out to the four corners, to tell the whole story to everyone - and actually, in retrospect, perhaps that would have been the right thing to do. But, I didn't. I just played it. It was time to let his ghost, go... As the music rang out I remembered sitting in the chamber of the coroner's court as the inquest was heard - and making my commitment to train as a therapeutic counsellor. To become the sort of therapist he might have chosen to talk to. My question then was how do I prevent this death happening to others...or rather, how do I become the kind of counsellor who might be able to change someone's mind enough to alter their direction. At the inquest we heard that everyone had tried, everyone had done ...
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