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Psychotherapists use a
combination of scientifically confirmable data, philosophical observations
about human nature and very real and painstakingly acquired therapeutic
skills to understand their patients. They are not primarily interested in
changing specific behaviours and not at all interested in molding their
patients to some preconceived idea of 'normal'. Rather, practicing
psychotherapy can be likened, as the British psychoanalyst Paul Williams
put it, to restoring a painting:
Patient and therapist attempt
together to lift the grime and wear of the years without damaging the
original underneath. Where damage appears, repair is carefully undertaken
in accordance with, as far as possible, the intentions of the creator, the
self of the patient. The process is a science and an art. Such a process
is about discovering, experiencing and assimilating what is authentic and
emotionally true in the patient's self.
Sometimes people are nervous
about going to see a psychotherapist because they feel they will betray
aspects of themselves that feel deeply private. They feel that therapists,
like witch doctors perhaps, will look into their souls or make impertinent
trespassing sorties into their private thoughts or desires. And yes, it is
sometimes frightening to get to know yourself, to confront your demons.
But the relationship allows this to take place in an atmosphere of
developing trust, an atmosphere in which difficult, painful experiences
can be safely explored and understood. It is in such situations of
closeness and dependency that people have a chance to grow.
One familiar argument against
going to talk to a psychoanalyst is that it would be 'self indulgent':
'How could I spend so much time talking about myself?' But in fact it
could be argued that nothing is more self indulgent than allowing one's
uncontrollable patterns of behaviour to make life difficult for one's
family and friends. The perennially dissatisfied wife; The workaholic
husband; The boyfriend who is an incipient alcoholic; all place
intolerable burdens on people who care about them. In such circumstances,
to take responsibility for one's own life, for one's own problems, however
difficult and even painful it might be, is a grown-up, unselfish thing to
do.
Priscilla Roth.
My daughter asked me: "Why did I go into therapy?"
Ms A, therapy patient, writes:
"I explained slowly and
carefully, not wanting to scare her. I was feeling very sad and
horrible. I had had short depressions throughout my life but they never
scared me that much. I had just taken them to be part of my personality.
When I was around 22 they became longer lasting of up to 2 weeks. I was
greatly helped by a homeopath and by developing an exercise programme.
Then at 32, one year after my daughter was born, I had a frightening
depression that lasted a year and a half. I was in a thick fog of
negativity, emotional pain and self-loathing. But I knew all these
thoughts of failure and death could not be true. I moved to a new town
to start over and to get some therapy. There was a constant, unbearable
pressure in my chest and throat threatening to explode out of me with
hysterical screaming.
"In the therapy I
learned about the history of my depressions, the pattern, what triggers
them and what generally stops them. I started to develop a more
realistic view of my life and expectations of myself. I really needed to
have one person who could devote one hour to just my problems, and for
me to be allowed to moan until 1 was sick of it and ready to look at
solutions. I learned that my depression would continue to be a part of
my life but I can detect the warning signs quicker and get treatment, if
I need it, before the feelings become devastating."
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