I believe that a therapist needs to be willing to do their own work when necessary and it was with this in mind that I recently decided to find myself a therapist. Over the past few months I have been dealing with clients as well as family and friends who have been deeply impacted by this unprecedented situation and decided that I too needed to take some time to look at how this period of time has challenged me personally. 

As a therapist myself, it was an interesting reminder how much courage it takes to reach out to a total stranger as psychotherapy is an intensely private matter. It doesn’t work for everyone; one has to be in the right place in one’s mind and be in a position to give the process due time and care. The personal style of therapists is often as important as their techniques and theories. I remember in my training, self disclosure was discouraged because it supposedly negated a potential source of information. But therapists self disclose the moment a client meets them whether on screen or in the flesh. The way the therapist speaks, dresses, whether they wear make up, the room they sit in, the absence or not of a wedding ring, these things all play a part in the choosing of your therapist. Finding the right therapist is like finding a needle in a haystack. Each of us is different and looking for that special soul that will allow us to heal, and grow can, at times, feel disappointing. We know when we find the person right for us.

On meeting my therapist for the first time, well into the session, he disclosed something of himself that was, a deciding moment for me. In his disclosure he reminded me that there is no essential difference between therapists and clients. We know when someone sees us and that feeling of coming home. The courage he showed by being authentic and dropping his mask stirred something deep within, beyond any well honed protective layers, which was a feeling of relief. I knew in that instance that I had found the Sherpa I wanted to guide me back to myself. This was the one with whom I was willing to explore throwing off my customary and self betraying masks and let all my feelings take their natural shape. 

I can’t remember any incidents when I have consciously or intentionally lied to a client as, for me, it corrupts the entire therapeutic process, which is devoted to uncovering the truth no matter what. Suddenly as a client myself, there emerged a difference. We all do it, we tell half truths, bend reality to suit our purposes, lie outright, withhold the truth, manipulate, want to be seen and at the same do everything we can to hide. Reminded of a quote by Andre Malraux, ‘man is not what he thinks he is, he is what he hides’, I wonder what it will take for me to allow all that is hidden to emerge.

Many years ago I remember coming cross the Satir Model of change designed by Virginia Satir (1916-1988), a technique used as a transformational tool to explore the self. The metaphor of an iceberg to represent human experiencing; the small tip represents visible behaviours, which is often what we focus on as we move through life. As I start the next stage of my therapeutic journey, I am starting to acknowledge the price of not taking the time to look beneath that piece floating above the water. In so many ways it looks effortless, but that so often leaves me feeling unseen and invisible.

Just as an iceberg only shows an eighth of itself above the water so do most of us present to the world the behaviours that we feel will be acceptable, make us loveable and as a result offer some sense of belonging. Under the water are often our coping strategies, feelings, feelings about feelings, perceptions, expectations, yearnings and self. By being willing to go beneath the surface and be as honest a client as I am a therapist I sit with the consequences of that honesty and see, from a client perspective, just how rare, and precious the intimacy that is starting to be kindled can be. In addition and perhaps more importantly with a deep relief, I am beginning to reconnect with that place that Virginia Satir often spoke about; “deep inside yourself where you keep the treasure that is called by your name.” I am excited at the thought that my clients may find the same when working with me.

There are things that happened, or didn’t, in childhood that seriously impacted the way some of us think about ourselves and the way we have lived our lives. We often, unconsciously, live out the core beliefs, we have come to know so well, based on our childhood experiences. For most of us, there are defining moments such as becoming a parent, the loss of a parent and therapy that make us stop and recognise that we are adults with some capacity to shape our own lives and the responsibility to do so, rather than blaming our parents and childhood for our life choices. While many people find that this is one of the hardest tasks to accomplish, some are lucky enough to discover that it is freeing in ways that they hadn’t imagined.

For many, our lives may not have been of our choosing as children and it is helpful to have your feelings and perceptions validated as a step towards healing from a difficult childhood. Learning how to shift from self blame to rightful anger at our parents can be a useful second step, but that is not the end of the process. A life changing experience for me was an exercise which challenged me to arrive at a fuller understanding of my parents and their histories that, in turn, allowed me to have a more tolerant and compassionate view of my upbringing. This didn’t detract from my feelings of hurt and betrayal or condone anything that happened, but what it did was to remind me that in the world of family, traumas often beget traumas. By looking at what is left when we work through the feelings we carry around about our childhoods we can make changes that will change our lives with ourselves and others for the better. 

I remember reading this poem (the word father can be replaced with mother) and stopping to consider the final question; 

How do we forgive our fathers? Do we forgive our fathers for leaving us often? Or forever, when we were little?

Maybe for scaring us with unexpected rage, or making us nervous because there never seemed any rage there at all?

Do we forgive our fathers for marrying or not marrying our mothers, or for divorcing or not divorcing our mothers?

And shall we forgive them for their excesses of warmth or coldness? Shall we forgive them for pushing or leaning, or shutting doors?

For speaking through walls, or never speaking, or never being silent?

Do we forgive our fathers in our age, or theirs?

Or in their deaths, saying it to them, or not saying it?

If we forgive our fathers what is left?

Perhaps it is as a result of age, or being a parent and now grandparent myself that I am able to more accept the concept of the ‘good enough parent’ which derived from the work of D. W. Winnicott.  Through Winnicott’s eyes, perfect parenting wasn’t merely unattainable, it wasn’t desirable. His thought was that a good enough parent still meets the needs of their children, but, and it is a big but, by the parents being less than perfect, the child learns to adapt and develop the skills needed to manage their disappointments. Of course, society has to accept that some parents are ‘not good enough’ by recognising the problem of child abuse and neglect thus setting up structures to deal with it, and where appropriate providing alternative parenting. But, for us to demand perfection of ourselves as parents and our own parents, is both unhelpful and unrealistic and undermines the efforts of the vast majority of parents who are in all practical respects ‘good enough.’ As parents we need to let go of perfectionism as it is not within the grasp of ordinary human beings.

So, if I go back to the final question in the poem above. What I believe is that by developing compassion for our parents it makes us more compassionate towards ourselves as people and parents. Getting to a forgiving place can be a long and complicated journey, the deeper the wound, the more difficult the process. But the act of forgiveness gives us permission to let go and release the pain and anger and when we get there, the forgiveness we achieve will be a forgiveness worth having. 

The world feels very strange right now, it is changing fast and we have no idea how it will play out. If we were to cast our minds back to the beginning of the year, none of us would have believed that, within a few weeks, our lives would be changed by a strand of proteins, that has ripped open the fabric of normality, causing the biggest global crisis since the Second World War. 

We are allowed out of our homes to stock up on essentials and have one form of exercise outdoors a day. Thousands of families have been thrust into home schooling. Operations have been cancelled. Bars, cafes, shops, restaurants, clubs all closed. Public gathering cancelled, jobs lost, people being furloughed and couples suddenly living in each others pockets. The unprecedented social distancing measures have changed our lives beyond recognition. Financial ruin and job insecurity weaving threads of fear and uncertainty throughout our world. The knowledge that any one of us could fall ill at any time, or could be already carrying the virus and not know, leaving only nine per cent of Britons wanting lockdown to end. 

This crisis will shape history and each of us is becoming aware of what we most treasure and what we most fear. My own life has shrunk beyond recognition. There are many things I miss and some days I feel deeply challenged on a personal level. There are days when I feel just as unsure as my clients, not only of the very real dangers of COVID-19 in the here and now, but how our lives will be in the aftermath. I face a mixture of emotions in constantly shifting measures and allow them to move through me knowing that moments of losing courage belong to a brave life. 

Only in hindsight will the contours of the new world we are entering become clear, but in the meantime we need to find ways of adapting to a new way. We are all having to shift into new routines that feel uncomfortable and out of the norm. Many of my clients talk about being forced to look at a new way of living their lives with the changes seeming small to some, but traumatic and immensely challenging to others.

It is not all doom and gloom though as, through the hole that has opened up, we glimpse possibilities of other worlds. Some people are already experiencing unexpected blessings. Our pace of life has slowed down.The skies are bluer with cleaner air.  Our daily exercise has given us an appreciation of natural surroundings previously taken for granted. Some parents are enjoying more time with their children. There are newly discovered neighbours and a sense of community, as we gather to show our deeply felt gratitude at the bravery of those working on the front line by clapping, drumming and cheering. We are starting to remember what is important and make space for all the things that we never seemed to have had the time to do. Some couples are rediscovering positive attributes in each other as they are pulling together and starting to see themselves once more as the team they so easily fell into in their early years.Virtual conversations, dinners and parties offering companionship especially to those living alone.

Elizabeth Gilbert author of Eat, Pray Love wrote something I like to hold on to when I feel levels of anxiety and loneliness start biting at my core;  “the child is taught from earliest consciousness that she has these four brothers with her in the world wherever she goes, and that they will always look after her. The brothers inhabit the four virtues a person needs in order to be safe and happy in life: intelligence, friendship, strength and poetry. The brothers can be called upon in any critical situation for rescue and assistance. When you die, your four spirit brothers collect your soul and bring you to heaven.” We are no strangers to suffering and while we are all in different and ever changing mental spaces, it is important to remember as we move through this experience that there are opportunities for us to learn and grow. My hope for all of us is that, when this is over, we realise that this darkness had purpose; That we will all prefer the world we find ourselves in to the one we left behind, but above all we remember that we were not alone.