Fear.
One small
word, and yet so much of the clinical practice of psychology hangs on
it.
The average
person who contemplates
psychotherapy
isn’t really thinking much about fear. Like someone who goes to a physician
with a broken arm, the initial concern will be to fix the presenting problem
so that life can get back to normal.
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In fact, if a
child falls out of a tree and breaks his arm, the treating physician will
most likely think about fixing the broken bone, not about asking questions.
“What was the child doing in the tree? Where were the parents?”
And even if questions are asked, the parents, if they have anything to hide,
will deceive the physician with a string of lies about family
harmony. |
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Now, some
practitioners of psychology—especially those under the influence of
managed
care—will do nothing but fix “broken bones.” But if you
are
willing
to get to the cause of the problem, and if your
psychologist knows his or her
job,
then it is inevitable that you will
encounter
in the psychotherapy the deep secrets and dark, ugly terrors of your psyche.
In fact, a client once said to me that the truth is not just ugly but is
“worse than humiliating.” And at this point the whole psychotherapy
is put to the test. Many clients will run from psychotherapy in fear and
terminate
prematurely. But the real challenge at this point is to explore in the
psychotherapy the very reasons for being afraid of
it.
Granted,
this can be a difficult process. Fear keeps alcoholics drinking, addicts
addicted, and the average person from even being interested in psychology.
In fearing the dark truth of the human psyche one never gets to feel the
true joy of real light. Because, after all, the light of good psychotherapy
illuminates the dark that we all fear and shows it for what it is. So there
you are, in full irony: in your fear of the dark, you end up
fearing
love itself.
Why should
this be? Well, in the early years of our lives, whether they are filled with
abuse and trauma or just ordinary childhood trials, we learn to defend ourselves
from the pain of life. There’s nothing wrong with defenses. In fact,
they often keep us alive. But if you cling to your childish defenses and
carry them on into adulthood—as most everyone does
unconsciously—you
can end up with a lifestyle that causes you more problems than it’s
worth. And the thought of changing your life is terrifying, because it’s
all you know.
So, out
of respect for your fear, rather than lecture you, I’ll just tell a
story.
A
Story
He began
the session by talking about his fear of speaking on the telephone, as if
kicking himself for being so inhibited.
“I
don’t know what I’m afraid of,” he stated.
“Well,
take a guess. What comes to mind?” I asked.
“The
unknown, I think. I’m afraid of the unknown.” It was a good answer,
as far as it went. But when I tried to engage him in exploring the idea further,
he balked. It was one of those characteristic therapeutic balks the
psychoanalysts have called
“resistance.”
“It
feels like you’re twisting my arm,” he said.
I accepted
that. “OK, so let’s talk about something else.” So he talked
about a disconcerting feeling of depression lately, a feeling of futility,
that no matter how much he came to see me it would all be for nothing and
he would never make any improvement. Then he talked about wanting to throw
and smash things. That led him to remembering how he actually did throw things
when he was taking care of his demented father in the last years before his
father died. He talked about—and by now was beginning to feel it as
well—his guilt for getting angry when his father wouldn’t cooperate
with him And then it hit him. Tears. Swearing. Shouting and pounding the
chair. His face was bright red, dripping with tears.
I didn’t
care if anyone could hear the shouting, and I knew he wasn’t dangerous.
I’ve worked in a crisis clinic, and I’ve been part of a “take
down” when a really dangerous patient had to be forcefully placed in
restraints. Take off your neck tie, put on the rubber gloves, make sure
there’s one staff member for each arm and leg. . . .
No, in my own office I do real psychotherapy. Sit calmly and ratify the
experience for him. He knew I wouldn’t twist his arm no matter what
he did. He had all honesty at his service. Besides, if the therapist gets
frightened, the client knows it, and that puts an end to everything.
Period.
Eventually
he calmed down. “I guess I really was angry at my brother and sister
for leaving me alone to take care of my father like that,” were the
first calm words out of his mouth. Then we talked about what happened. Yes,
the stifled anger was behind the feeling of depression and hopelessness;
essentially he had doubts several days before that he would be able to
do—and survive—what he just did: speak honestly about what he was
feeling. At the time, he thought nothing about his life could change. He
unconsciously “knew” about the anger, but he feared what would
happen if he let it out. Hence the depression. It’s really anger turned
inward, as they say.
But there
was even more. That feeling of inhibition on the telephone, the feeling that
began the session, now came full circle. The “unknown” that he
feared was nothing other than his unknown behavior if he were somehow to
become angry at the person on the other end of the line. What if he blew
up? What if…? Never having been taught to express
anger
in a peaceful, healthy manner, he feared what would happen if the cork popped
out of the bottle.
Well, now
he knows. Thankfully, because he’s dealing with all this in psychotherapy,
this is as bad as it gets. We don’t have to worry about his getting
his hands on a gun. Next time will be less dramatic and more
healthy.
He will,
though, go through a period of swearing. I know it, because I went through
it when I was recovering from my breakup with a girlfriend while working
in a residential treatment program with a random collection of incompetent
therapists. I had everything in the world to swear at. Thank God I didn’t
die in that phase of my life, for I surely merited some dark hole in hell.
I grew out of it.
And
that’s the point: to grow out of it. To change from being angry at
everything to being able to forgive and pray for
everyone. I truly feel sorry for all those persons who have their own
bitterness infecting them. I hope they will someday
grow out of that phase before it’s too late. Then, if they do, they
will understand that however much they might squirm at the idea of being
tested, they have nothing to fear. They will finally understand true
joy—and
true
love.
Hope
Before I started
studying psychology, I worked as a woodcarver and cabinetmaker. One day I
brought home a pile of dirty, moldy pieces of wood. My father looked at it
and said if it were up to him he would throw it all in the garbage. But I
patiently cleaned, sanded, filled, reglued, refinished, assembled, and polished
the pieces. In the end I had a beautiful antique oak dining table.
So let that be
a psychological lesson. No life, however dirty and broken, is beyond redemption.
Or beyond hope.
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Now, my father
was a good man and he never abused me in any way. And he never told me that
I was garbage. But imagine how it feels to be a child whose parents
are abusive, critical, neglectful, and manipulative. These parents not only
break down their child into a pile of sticks, but also, when the child stands
there covered in guilt and shame, they tell the
child, “Look at you! You’re just a piece of
garbage.” |
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And why are there
so many lives headed for the garbage dump? Fear. Fear of the hard work of
going to psychotherapy to clean themselves off. Fear of letting go of the
dirt, because it’s all they know, for, even if it’s dirt, at least
it’s comfortable.
So you choose:
a polished oak table, or a pile of broken sticks for the
garbage.
It’s your life.
Paying the
Price
Everything in
psychology has a price. If you open your mouth to speak the truth, you pay
a price. If you keep your mouth shut in fear, you pay a price. Psychology,
therefore, teaches us that we cannot “opt out” of life. Even those
who choose lifestyles counter to the prevailing culture still live a cultural
lifestyle. Even those who commit suicide do not
reject culture; they very clearly make a cultural statement about their lack
of hope and their unwillingness to face up to the truth of their
unconscious past.
So if you want
to make psychological changes in your life, you have to pay a price. No matter
what anyone has ever done to you, you—and you alone—have to take
personal responsibility for your healing. It will cost money, and time, and
suffering. But the reward of liberty from cultural
illusions is priceless.
No
advertising—no sponsor—just the simple truth . . .
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Additional
Resources
Related pages within A Guide to Psychology and
its Practice:
Anger
Confidentiality
Consumer Rights and
Office Policies
Death—and the Seduction
of Despair
Psychology: Clinical
or Counseling or ...?
Questions and Answers
about Psychotherapy
Reasons to Visit a
Psychologist
Types of
Treatment
CONTACT ME
INDEX of all subjects
on this website
SEARCH this
website
A Guide to Psychology
and its Practice
www.GuideToPsychology.com
Copyright © 1997-2008 Raymond Lloyd Richmond, Ph.D. All rights
reserved.
San Francisco, California USA
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