Tag: counseling

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Becoming a Therapist

by Christina Pettinato, MS, NCC, LPC, DCC

When I walked into my first professional counseling course, I held my head up high, pulled my shoulders back, and thought, “Yes, I belong here.”  For the first time in my mental health career I felt as if I was headed in the right direction, and I was eager to begin my journey.

My mind was prepared to soak in all the knowledge that was going to be bestowed upon me, and it was then that I realized becoming a therapist was going to be a intimidating endeavor. As the professor began his lecture, I quickly learned that I needed to conquer some inner-demons in addition to fostering a connection to the core concepts of psychotherapy and counseling.

Who me? This is about me? I didn’t think I would be the one sitting in the client’s chair.  At first, I didn’t grasp the significance or meaning behind this moment.  I thought to myself, “Where do I even begin?” No map. No compass. No clue. I’m screwed, and I hadn’t even written my first note yet! Navigating the dark crevices of my mind was going to be a lot more vexing than venturing into someone else’s. My anxiety was through the roof, and my fear was real. Could I ever truly find a sense of peace and beauty within this chaos?

What I began to learn is that life, my life, is based on the perception of my own processes – both the mental and physical perception of experience and how much it influences my daily understanding of the world around me.  Understanding how I perceive the world, which would ultimately impact my future therapeutic relationships, evolved into a consuming endeavor within my therapeutic journey and career.

Exploring my psyche and how it works only reinforces this notion of perception and how each of us can discover a unique pathway to the mind. What was interesting to me was, not only did I develop a heightened sense of awareness of self, but for others, too.  I became highly interested in perception and being-in the-world (to borrow a term from philosopher Martin Heidegger).  Everyone is uniquely human, no two realities are perceived the exactly in the same context. I began to see an uneasy marriage between that which is measurable by science (cognitive processes) and all the mystery of philosophy and art. Things began to gel, take form, make sense, and a fog was lifting.  For me, this exploration was, and still remains, the doorway to understanding another person’s perspective.

With all of my new found inspiration, I knew I needed some guidance. It wasn’t long until my seedlings of thought found purchase in existential psychotherapy.  It is an approach that emphasizes an understanding of your client’s worldview because you are not separated from it. You are human, so is the client. You are forever grounded in a common bond that cannot be quantified or measured. As the French philosopher Jean Paul Sarte said, existence precedes essence. This idea is at the root of our search for meaning. As therapists, counselors and clinicians, we cannot separate ourselves from the living world or our humanness. Understanding, compassion and connection, these are the best tools we have to offer our clients.

My journey then and now can be compared to staring at a painting. At first, I tilt my head in curiosity and uncertainty as the canvas appears unconnected, unruly and unclear. Yet, as I take my time to gaze a little deeper, it becomes easier to see the painting’s intricacies, its inner-struggle, and its beauty. The world opens and things appear as they are – flowing in richness, emotion and connectivity. Meaning is found.  Like the artwork, I began to connect the pieces of my life into theory and produced a strong approach to the helping relationship.

My journey is far from over and there is still so much for me to explore, but for those of you taking that first step, keep looking at the canvas. Don’t give up just yet.

Avanti,
Christina

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Need to be Needed

By Don Laird, MS, NCC, LPC, DCC

Who among us has not experienced the family member who “needs to be needed?” The person who for various reasons becomes the family rescuer? A “martyr,” “savior” or “saint” that will come through for others even at the expense of their own well-being? Codependency, by its very definition means that there a mutual dependent relationship, and that someone is usually a family member or a significant other. Co-dependency is a term traditionally associated with the treatment of addiction and recovery, but for our purposes let’s examine it in another light.

The question that comes to mind is why would someone want to be a full-time rescuer? What benefit is there to a person if she or he is driven to a point of being unhappy, resentful, chronically stressed, and physically or emotionally ill?

People who struggle with codependency typically grow up with an adult family member who demands perpetual emotional care. Often, this is a parent who never reached full emotional maturity. The phenomena of the helicopter parent comes to mind as this is someone who won’t allow for his or her child to experience the world as both a place of kindness and a place where you do indeed get hurt, sometimes badly. The codependent needs to be needed, and this is where things often fall apart when their way of understanding the world is threatened.

“I am because I serve.”

Love, confidence and self-esteem get knotted up with unending service. The codependent grows up starving for love and affection, someone who will “complete me” or fill the void. They feel significant not for who they are, but for what they do for others. The world is only as safe as they deem it to be and, therefore, they must protect those they love in the unhealthiest way possible by sacrificing their own sense of being. As a result, there can be little to no internal change for this person, that energy is redirected into trying to change the world around them. What psychological stability they can attain is contingent on making people dependent on them. This makes them fragile, resistant to change, and by all accounts the family martyr.

This is not to imply someone who is co-dependent lacks empathy, thoughtfulness or understanding. Those qualities can be quite genuine. The issue is ingrained in what tacit emotional agenda accompanies them.  This could oscillate between exhaustive periods of giving and sudden “I need to love me first” moments of resentment. The choice is never me and you, but an emotionally immature me or you. People cannot be related to as equals, but instead are seen as those who are in need of my service, AND they should be eternally grateful for my efforts.

Codependency involves a deeply rooted and highly persistent combination of attitudes, values, beliefs, and habits that will not be solved by a reading a self-help book or by a getting a prescription from the family doctor. Moreover, deciding to be “self-loving” won’t do anything either. “Loving me before I can love others” (as pop-psychology insists we chant as a daily mantra) suggests the same type of “self-sacrifice” that drives a co-dependent individual in a most unhealthy way – “See, I am learning to love myself so now I can serve others better.”

Relational conflicts require relational healing. Therapy is perhaps one of the few ways to create a relational world outside of the co-dependent’s universe. In most unresolved emotional conflicts past events remain shrouded in grief, regret and loss. These conflicts are often reinforced by attempts to self sooth or “cure” the feelings.

Beneath the worry and anxiety of someone with codependency sits an unconscious desire to obtain love, security and approval. Yet, for better or worse, the external world is not built to meet this internal need. Facing and allowing for loss and letting go submits an individual to a deep and valuable period of mourning. For the ill family member who could not be cured, for the child who did not get into the “right” school, for the vacation that did not go as planned, for the loss of love and support, misdirected energy is pulled out of persistent rescuing and gives it back to oneself. Though difficult and a times painful, mourning can ignite the process of healing. Creating a new role for those who were at one time in need of my “saving” allowing them to be who or what they actually are instead of trying to rescue them, also increases a sense of emotional maturity.

We should always remember that those who struggle with codependency are highly sensitive and caring individuals. Somewhere along the way the emotional speedometer jumped from 0 to 60 and it was never quite able to decrease to a healthier rate. Co-dependency is not a problem to be cured, but a life issue to be explored and discussed. If you feel you are struggling because of issues related to co-dependency contact us to schedule a confidential appointment.

In good health,
Don

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February Blues

by Don Laird, MS, NCC, LPC, DCC

February is the shortest month on our calendars. Psychologically, however, it is also the longest month. Leafless trees, barren landscapes, minimal sunlight, and frigid temperatures can wear a person down. For some, these environmental factors may produce symptoms of mild depression.

Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD, is a form of depression that impacts a person during the same season each year. If you feel depressed in the winter, but your mood and affect improve during the spring and summer months, you may have SAD.

SAD is quite common and can affect anyone, but it is more prevalent in women between the ages of 15 and 60. Anyone who lives in a climate with extended winter months where daylight is at a premium is at risk to develop symptoms associated with SAD. However, first onset symptoms are less likely to occur as you age. In other words, If you don’t experience SAD symptoms before the age of 40 you are unlikely to develop symptoms later in life. Keep in mind, SAD is a type of depression and should not be confused with mild or moderate depression.

There is no smoking gun to indicate a definitive root cause for SAD. The one apparent link that appears to be most prevalent is lack of sunlight. This may also disturb your sleep-wake cycle and circadian rhythms, and lack of sunlight may account for a drop in the brain chemical serotonin, which is linked to mood.

Some of the symptoms you may experience with SAD include a loss of interest in activities you normally find enjoyable, craving foods high in carbohydrates, such as pasta or bread, weight gain, feelings of sadness, irritability, constant worry, and drowsiness even after a full night’s sleep. Treatment may involve light therapy. Light therapy works very well for most people diagnosed with SAD, and it is easy to use. Typically,  individuals report feeling improvements to mood within two weeks of starting light therapy. Like any other treatment, you must be consistent and use the therapy on a daily basis. Otherwise, results will not be as effective.

Talk therapy or counseling has proven just as effective as medications in treating SAD. Therapy will help you explore the root causes of your feelings and assist you with managing symptoms. Stay active during the daytime, especially in the morning, by exercising at a moderate level. Walking, swimming, aerobics, deep breathing, and yoga are a great way to start. Stay hydrated, drink at least six to eight glasses of water each day. The more you do, the more energy you will gain. In addition to physical activity, appeal to your creative spirit by journaling, drawing or finding some other artistic endeavor. If you feel as though you are experiencing symptoms of SAD or depression, please consult a therapist or physician.

 

In Good Health,
Don

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BOOK REVIEW: As I Knew Him: My Dad, Rod Serling

by Don Laird

The pen of Rod Serling was on fire during television’s first and finest golden age. Serling crafted some of the most memorable and engaging live anthology dramas, while later going on to create, host and write for what is now recognized as a show that was far ahead of its time, “The Twilight Zone.” He was at the top of CBS’ Pantheon during the 1950s and early 1960s.

Curiously, The Twilight Zone may appear as nothing more than a black and white production full of aliens, shapeshifters, gremlins, time travelers, malevolent dolls, missing astronauts, and a list of memorable characters as far as the mind can imagine. After all, Mr. Serling both cautioned and tempted us with the opening lines of his now famous introduction to Season 1, “This is the dimension of imagination.” And imagine, he did. Yet, The Twilight Zone was never really about the trappings of science fiction or those overwrought narrative twists, it was about the folly of humankind, and the very nature of our existence. It was about the dreamers, the broken ones, those who wanted nothing more than to cry out against the isolation that irradiated an existential fallout in the United States following Hiroshima and Nagasaki. A cry that is sadly still echoed today. Indeed, it was Serling’s morality and his humanity that made the show so special, and why it continues to be a part of our social nomenclature in the 21st century.

Serling explored the darker side of humanity while understanding that it is in our humanness that we might find salvation. In the episode “Five Characters in Search of an Exit,” the character of the Army Major screams out, “Where are we? What are we? Who are we?” Yet, no one can answer his pleas. The characters are seemingly imprisoned in an absurd cylinder with no beginning and no end. However, as dreadful as that may sound, Serling in his traditional use of wit and irony turns the ending of this episode into a bittersweet reminder that we are all in this together.

Anne Serling’s new book “As I Knew Him: My Dad, Rod Serling,” is cut from that same cloth. A reminder that we are connected, no matter how clever we believe we are, no matter how far we ride on the wheels of technology, we are bound by the one thing we cannot escape, our call to be human. Not only is Ms. Serling’s book essential reading for fans of “The Twilight Zone,” it is a beautifully written memoir; a journey through grief by a young girl who lost her loving dad far too soon. What starts out as a tribute quickly develops into a story that is akin to therapy. Moreover, this is a book that I would and have strongly recommended to clients troubled with complicated grief and loss issues.

Ms. Serling paints for us an abstract of her father’s early years and his traumatic experiences in the Pacific theatre during the Second World War. She gently and quite lovingly reconciles the image of the man we all knew with the father she adored and who, in turn, adored her. This is a story told in snapshots. A glimpse of a man who exorcised his demons by creating memorable television while fostering a loving family life at their summer lake home in Ithaca, New York.

Not unlike the character of Martin Sloan in The Twilight Zone episode, “Walking Distance.” Ms. Serling presents us with a portrait of her father who is both successful and broken, longing for a life among the shadow of things that once were. Rod Serling’s closing narration in that episode illuminates his daughter’s prose:

“Martin Sloan, age thirty-six, vice-president in charge of media. Successful in most things but not in the one effort that all men try at some time in their lives—trying to go home again. And also like all men perhaps there’ll be an occasion, maybe a summer night sometime, when he’ll look up from what he’s doing and listen to the distant music of a calliope, and hear the voices and the laughter of the people and the places of his past. And perhaps across his mind there’ll flit a little errant wish, that a man might not have to become old, never outgrow the parks and the merry-go-rounds of his youth. And he’ll smile then too because he’ll know it is just an errant wish, some wisp of memory not too important really, some laughing ghosts that cross a man’s mind…”

As Rod once said, “Very little comment here.” These are the memories of Anne with her dad. There is a sense of sentimental nostalgia warmed by love and care, and we are given an opportunity to remember and grieve with Anne. A trip down memory lane, as it was and is now. A journey that reminds us that the “givens” of existence are never far from view.

Visit Ms. Serling’s website for more information or click here to purchase: As I Knew Him, My Dad Rod Serling.

In good health,
Don

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How does your light shine?

by Don Laird, MS, NCC, LPC, DCC

There’s a starman waiting in the sky
He’d like to come and meet us
But he thinks he’d blow our minds
There’s a starman waiting in the sky
He’s told us not to blow it
‘Cause he knows it’s all worthwhile” ~ David Bowie

Nearly three years have passed since David Bowie abandoned this mortal coil at age 69, leaving a legacy of sound and vision that will likely never be equaled. He was a shining genius whose brilliance brought the world of music its first and finest chameleon in the forms of Ziggy Stardust, the Thin White Duke, and Aladdin Sane. Bowie is missed by all those who knew him personally and all those of legions of fans (myself included) who are left to remember him through his music.

Earlier this year, HBO premiered David Bowie: The Last Five Years this month. The documentary speaks volumes about the man’s life and his acceptance of death. But this article is only in part about Bowie. There have been more than enough eulogies, musings and opinions about the importance of his work that have sprung from far better sources and writers than this humble therapist. This article is more about what happened to him and what will happen to all of us. Bowie’s death, like that Prince’s just a few months later, presented us with a strange, but much needed phenomena. Suddenly the world of social media and pop culture was confronted with this question, “If David Bowie can die so will I, and if that’s the case, what does this all mean?”

As a professor who teaches existential psychotherapy and a therapist who holds all forms of art in the highest possible regard, I too find this question creeping into my thoughts in the wee hours of the night. Then I often find myself doing the numbers game, “Geez, he was only 69? That’s only 17 years older than I am now.”

As psychotherapist Irvin Yalom said, “Self-awareness is a supreme gift, a treasure as precious as life. This is what makes us human.”  Yet, there is a price to pay Charon long before we reach the river Styx. We are forever vulnerable to the wound of our own mortality. Our very existence is based on and forever shadowed by the knowledge that we will grow, blossom, diminish and then die.

Now there’s something to put on your next Christmas card.

Beware the fields of psychology and psychiatry if you are looking for any answers to the way you feel about meaning, death or despair. It is far better to steer your ship toward the open and didactic seas of philosophy, Fellow Travelers. Unless you wish to set course for a diagnostic code to explain away creativity, life and mortality, maybe even reduce your existence to a statistical inference? Yes, I often find myself biting the hand that feeds me, mostly because it serves a menu of junk science and reductionism that is one size fits all. Who sucked the air out of life? Maybe the human sciences didn’t, but we sure keep that vacuum going.

Could it be that we are but a brilliant light between two distinct points in time? We have a birth date and an expiration date yet to be determined.  Tombstones remind us of the quantity of one’s life. For Bowie, it was 1947-2016. However, that doesn’t say much about the quality. I suspect we should look more closely at the dash (-) in the above dates to fill in the blanks about one’s existence.  Some live well, others not so much, but we all die. It’s the time spent here (before we go to wherever your special place is beyond this world) that counts. Sure it may sound clichéd and trite, but you can’t escape the fact that you too will (depending on your age as you read this) expire within the next 50 – 20 years.

What are you prepared to do between now and then?

Acknowledging our mortality forces us to accept the loan of life, to paraphrase psychoanalyst Otto Rank (he’s dead too). The more we avoid the acceptance of death by shielding it with our specialness, the more we reject life. We begin to cower in the shadows, embracing the safer places to hide, as we whistle in the dark to the tune of death is something that happens, but not to me.

Yet, if we took a moment to look at our lives through a creative lens rather than a quantitative one, what would we see? For one, fear of death would hardly control our day-to-day decisions as much as we loosely admit it does now. What other questions might we want to ask? Perhaps, who wants to be the wealthiest person the cemetery? Can we begin to have an adult conversation about death in our culture before it’s too late? If death is how our story is going to end then what are we doing with the middle section of this book? Am I writing these chapters on my terms, with respect and responsibility to myself and others? What do I value on my life’s journey and how will I let my light shine?

So, just maybe, if David Bowie’s life and death meant anything it’s this: Ziggy Stardust was an extraterrestrial/existential rock star who came to earth, rocked out and tried to save the world through his music.

What will you do today?

In good health,
Don