Trigger warning for suicide
For those of you that have seen the film Good Will Hunting, you may remember the scene where Robin Williams tells Matt Damon over and over, “it’s not your fault.” The scene culminates in a meaningful embrace and what can only be considered as a therapeutic breakthrough. In graduate school, my professor showed us this scene to demonstrate a point about empathy and understanding in the therapeutic relationship. And while most therapy doesn’t really work like that, this scene remains one of the most poignant scenes that I have seen in regards to the portrayal of therapy.
I’ve watched this scene several times since the tragic suicide of Robin Williams. And it sums up everything I want to say and get through to not only my clients, but everyone suffering from suicidal ideation, depressive symptoms, mental illness, and those who have ever felt a sense of hopelessness and despair.
It’s not your fault.
I had planned to do a “one-year reflection” type of post this week, but an unexpected circumstance has been making it difficult to reflect back on the past year. That post will be slightly delayed.
It was a Thursday morning like any other. Swipe in, head to my office, check emails, grab charts for the day. As I grab the pile of green folders, the support staff coordinator says hi and shares some unsettling news.
“Hey, do you remember so-and-so? She died.”
“If you were to wake up tomorrow and your life was exactly how you wanted it to be, what would be different?”
If you’ve ever been in a graduate counseling program or have been involved in therapy, you’ve probably asked or been asked the “miracle” question. This question, often used to spark discussion about what’s needed to facilitate productive changes, is often met with one of three answers:
- The specific, well-thought answer where the client knows exactly what needs to change and is making strides as to how to change it (thank you for making my job easier)
- “I don’t know…everything”
- “I’d be happy”
Trigger warning for violence, sexual abuse, emotionally-charged language and suicidality.
In graduate school, the first thing that was drilled over and over into our heads was to take one’s cultural experience into account. We were taught to recognize our own privileges and understand that others from different backgrounds will not have the same views as we may. We learned that one’s cultural experience largely shapes that person’s identity, experiences, and way they see the world. We were made to address several unpleasant stereotypes that had been engrained into our thinking, as well as acknowledge how these stereotypes could impact the clients we work with. The term microaggression became rooted into our daily vocabulary. We were taught to accept everyone for who they were and put our own stuff aside when working with them.
Trigger warning for violence and abuse. This first post will focus primarily on the “mental illness” portion, while the next will focus on the #yesallwomen portion.
Disclaimer: This post will be posted a day after it was finished. Some say it might take away from the point of the post, but this is what happens when you don’t quite finish it the morning of the 15th and go straight from work to Passover Seder and don’t get home until it’s past your bedtime.
April 15th, 2014. Just a day like any other. Quite unremarkable, really. It’s raining, but warm rain. Standard for a spring day in Philadelphia.
A date is just a day on the calendar until something happens.
April 15th, 2014. Tax day in the United States. The day before my father’s birthday (and he still doesn’t look a day over 35). And it also happens to be the second night of Passover. Tonight, I will go to my childhood home and feast with 20 different family members and friends. Despite my age, I’ll be seated at the kid’s table. We’ll drink wine, eat cardboard known as matzo, break into a spontaneous rendition of “Let My People Go,” and argue over which child is the wise one, wicked one, simple one, and one who doesn’t know enough to ask a question. And at some point throughout the night, we’ll ask, mah nishtanah, ha-laylah ha-zeh, mi-kol ha-leylot?
What has changed, this night, from all the other nights?
The other day, after talking about some heavy topics, I had a client deflect and tell me that he was very excited for the New Year. As this particular client was not ready to talk about some of these topics at the time, I went with his deflection and asked what made him excited about the start of 2014. “New Years resolutions! I’m gonna quit smoking and stop cursing!” The next day, I had a client ask me about my own New Years resolutions, and told me that he was going to quit smoking and start exercising more. Continue reading
Some of you may remember that a while back, when I was first interviewing for (and soon after landed) my first “real” job, I had a stage system in which denial was the first stage of attempting to find employment after graduation. I don’t have a theory for how it works once you land that job (once the stages have all been successfully resolved, I’ll keep you informed), but what I do know is that there’s a serious case of denial going on, and it might be with every new person who has entered a demanding, somewhat thankless field that thinks they can handle the pressure.
Ah, Sundays. Often times, we get just a little sad when Sunday rolls around. After all, they’re often not as exciting as it’s big brother Saturday and there’s always that incessant reminder that the dreaded Monday is right around the corner. But really, what’s so wrong with Sundays? They’re still a day of the weekend, you still have off from work (most you, anyway), and there are things about them that can be really great. Yes, Saturday offers tough competition, but if you put your mind to it, anybody has the ability to make Sundays significantly better than expected. Here are my top 10 reasons why Sundays are awesome, and maybe even the best day of the week. And for those of you that aren’t into these things, well, think of your own! I’m sure you can make Sundays amazing.
“How are you?” This is the text message I get from my mother last Saturday.
Now, most people probably wouldn’t think this is weird. But my mom’s not much of a small-talk conversation texter, and she hates talking on the phone just as much as I do (and I wonder where I got it from). Uh oh, is something wrong? I debate ignoring the text and waiting to talk to her in-person during the week (after all, if it was urgent, she would call, right? There’s the rationalization defense mechanism for ya), but I was too curious to know the meaning behind those three words on my phone.
“Thanks for that detailed update on your recent major life changes!”