Month: February 2018

Statue of Arjuna

The Golden Arrow: how to live a more or less fulfilling life

The Golden Arrow is a heuristic tool I’ve been thinking about for a while now to help frame my understanding of what is happening in therapy at a given time. Really, it’s an app running off the gestalt cycle api; the theoretical cycle of gestalt formation and destruction chunters away in the background, and gets expressed through the Golden Arrow.

I originally intended this to be a single blog post running through each element of the arrow, but the content exploded. I figure that means the process of writing this out is helping me integrate a bunch of stuff (what David Tennant’s Doctor (the best Doctor) might term gestalt-walty stuff), so I’ll let this emerge in its own time, then thread everything together once it’s complete.

The overall idea is simple. The cycle of gestalt formation and destruction describes how a gestalt comes into and out of being by breaking the process down into seven stages. This aids therapy by providing a diagnostic tool geared towards the mechanics of how we construct our experiences. But it can sometimes become too abstract.

So for me, keeping that theory close to practice is about asking what’s happening now within the active gestalt; what is the overall kind of action to which this current situation is geared?

That’s led me to describe four modes of gestalt functioning with a natural direction of travel:

Needing > Wanting > Choosing > Doing

The arrow metaphor is by no means original, and comes from the concept of karma being explained through the metaphor of archery. A blog post for another day perhaps, but I think karma has huge potential as a solid clinical concept in therapy. I think what we essentially work with in therapy is a person’s karma (a word whose meaning is to do with certain kinds of action).

For The Golden Arrow, I’m using the metaphor to describe the way an arrow points and flies from one point to another. This is to emphasise how needing leads to wanting which leads to choosing which leads to doing. This movement from one mode to another is the natural progression of a given gestalt. Left to our own devices in a relatively simple environment, we can mostly relax control and allow our arising needs to progress into actions.

But therapy exists because we aren’t left to our own devices in a relatively simple environment. We live in complicated environments, often subject to extreme frustrations and dangers, and usually subject to some degree of external imposition that opposes our own needs of the moment.

Many, maybe most, of these needs can just be dropped. But chronically frustrated needs and significant unmet needs create the classic unfinished business of gestalt therapy. And given severe frustration, and/or the need to survive environments characterised by intolerable and contradictory psychological pressures, entire modes of being can become problematic.

It’s possible to adapt ourselves to hostile environments to such an extent that we are unable to identify our own needs; be aware of what we need but feel no desire for it; be unable to decide things for ourselves; or consistently fail to follow through on our own decisions. Or all of the above in various combinations at various different times as we try to navigate our own personal hellscape.

For the purposes of doing therapy, The Golden Arrow is an attempt to frame therapeutic dialogue. It also provides a usable model for developing a background sense of feeling more or less fulfilled (whilst acknowledging that fulfilment in life can’t be reduced to a four step exercise!). Roughly speaking, the formula is this:

If you want what you need, choose what you want, do what you choose, and need what you do, then you will live a more or less fulfilling life.

But all those elements must be there, and the foundational work is being able to connect with a mostly accurate sense of what you need. Which involves developing an ability to return to the ultimate basics of gestalt therapy: what am I aware of now?

The main advantages of focusing on these four ideas are accessibility and action-orientation.

Needing, wanting, choosing, and doing are accessible themes for conversation because they are themes people struggle with. And those struggles are scalable, meaning you can do an experiment about needing easily in the therapy room, and it will be directly applicable to major needs outside of the therapy room. As above, so below.

Action-orientation relates to the words being verbs rather than nouns, and so already being rooted in directly experienced action. It’s tempting to talk about needs as if they are neatly packaged things we can pick up and examine. But our lived experience isn’t of picking up and putting down needs, it’s of need*ing*.

With both needing and wanting, there is a visceral experience of the absence of something. With choosing there is an often tortuous process of weighing up options and being pulled in different directions before having to actively commit to something over something else. And with doing there is a dazzling array of different actions and combinations of actions that go into fulfilling our intentions. For me at least, this helps with grounding theory in both practice and every day experience.

I’ll link here to each additional part as I get further posts written.

~ ~ ~

Photo credit:Arjuna” by tbSMITH, shared under Creative Commons.

the gestalt cycle of figure formation and destruction

Rising and falling: the cycle of gestalt formation and destruction

My first encounter with what pre-gestalt Fritz Perls would have recognised as concentration therapy, came in the form of two exercises from a book called Concentration & Meditation. These were exercises designed to lead into wider Buddhist practice, but I was using them to still and focus my otherwise drastically scattered mind.

One of these exercises is the simple yet surprisingly trippy process of focusing on a simple object, and ignoring any other sensations, thoughts, objects etc. It was wild, but irrelevant to this post.

The other exercise is (eventually) beautiful in a hard to express way. It involved observing the rising and falling nature of experience and, by extension, reality itself. I was in the 3rd year of my undergraduate degree, sharing a house in a suburb near campus. Consequently, whilst there was a moderately busy road nearby, during the day there was regular but not incessant traffic passing by my bedroom window, which overlooked the road.

So the way I trained myself in observing the rising and falling nature of experience was to sit by my window and listen out for cars. If I construct a memory of it now, then I remember it going something like:

I am sitting and listening. I am hearing all sorts of sounds: now a bird singing, now someone yelling in the distance, now the traffic on the busy road further away. Now I am hearing the sound of a car starting to move towards me. I am focusing on this sound, and hearing it get louder and closer. I can also see the car now, and hear the whooshing noise it makes as it passes by me. I see it moving away from me, and hear the sound of it moving further away. I notice how it sounds different moving away than it did as it approached. I listen to the sound of the car fading away until I can no longer hear it.

That’s an idealised version that happened every now and again when the day was quiet and traffic at its least busy. More often than not, at some point, the sound of the car would be interrupted by another car. Maybe several cars would come past in quick succession, and my focus would change to the sound of the cars as a group, instead of just the one.

But the rising and falling of the sound stayed the same: the sound of cars got louder, then quieter. The sound of traffic began to remind me of the sound of sitting next to the Thames back in my hometown, listening to the waves crash when the tide was in, over and over.

Even now, this exercise brings me a level of peace and contentment that I can’t adequately describe. I gain, momentarily, a perspective on reality in which the inevitable rising and falling of all things implies an impermanence that speaks of freedom from suffering. It’s like the universe itself has popped into a social media exchange to declare, “and this too shall pass lol”.

All of which provides the basic experiential material for explaining the cycle of gestalt formation and destruction, which essentially attempts to map out the rising and falling of experience in a therapeutically useful way.

An overview of the gestalt cycle

The cycle of gestalt formation and destruction is generally broken down into seven stages: sensation; awareness; mobilisation; action; final contact; satisfaction; withdrawal.

Zinker gives a pretty good walk through of the cycle from sensation to satisfaction. I’ve used square brackets to annotate his description with stages of the cycle:

“The power of this description is that it gave greater depth and understanding to figure/ground formation. The figure would surface during sensation, [sensation] where the individual experiences something happening that disturbs the steady state. If the sensation holds sufficient attention of the individual, awareness [awareness] of a need would sharpen. Awareness begins to develop through a mixture of feelings, thoughts, perceptions that seek to interpret the sensation. Energy mobilizes [mobilisation] in response to this awareness of a specific need that is seeking satisfaction. The energy is released [action] and Contact is made with that which will satisfy the need [final contact]. During contact, whatever is other than the self is digested by destructuring to find what is new or different and assimilating (or integrating) it. When what is new or different has been satisfactorily destructured and assimilated, change occurs within the organism (individual) [satisfaction]. Once the original need has been satisfied, the individual returns to a steady state by withdrawing from the experience and closing the cycle [withdrawal]. When the cycle has been completed, the individual would return to sensation and wait for a new figure to emerge from the fertile ground of the individual.” (Zinker, 1977, 90-91; quote lovingly snaffled from Cleveland Consulting Group)

When I talk about “a gestalt”, I am talking about a clear figure/ground composition, an experience in which a clear focus for attention stands out from a background of other elements of experience. What’s interesting about the rising and falling exercise with passing cars is that when the figure of interest is the passing of a car, the whole experience holds up a mirror to the inherently rising and falling nature of the gestalt cycle itself.

Each of these stages is more appropriately thought of as a descriptive element of a good enough gestalt, ie the more or less smooth arrangement of experience into a figure of interest, clearly differentiated from a broader experiential background, that enables meaningful action in pursuit of the dominant need of the moment.

Withdrawal – Imagine you’ve just woken up from a deep sleep, opened your eyes, and are in a state of calm that feels empty but in a good way. Or imagine you’ve just finished a big task, sat down, and are just taking a minute before doing anything else. That’s more or less the withdrawal stage, characterised by not just a lack of any clear figure, but a lack of potential figures, and little to no sense of emerging feelings or background sensations.

Sensation – In my rising and falling example, “I am sitting and listening. I am hearing all sorts of sounds: now a bird singing, now someone yelling in the distance, now the traffic on the busy road further away”, is an example of the sensation stage. There are various proto-figures bumping up against my awareness, but I don’t invest much energy in them. Nothing “disturbs the steady state” as Zinker puts it. Maybe fuzzy thoughts, memories, or images pass briefly through my mind without sticking or commanding much attention.

Awareness – It helps to think of awareness as a light. In the sensation stage, there is a very soft, low level light, tricksy like moonlight. In the awareness stage, something has captured enough interest to begin developing into a fully fledged figure. That low level light intensifies into something more like sunlight, centred on the developing figure of interest. This is where the overall gestalt starts to dramatically re-arrange, as the figure of interest primes consciousness by pulling relevant associations into the background.

Mobilisation – A pithy gestalt saying I like is “awareness supports response-ability”. As a figure of interest develops in awareness, we mobilise ourselves in preparation to respond to the active situation. If I am aware of a glass of water, am I mobilising to drink it or pour it on a stray ember or clean my paintbrush in it? The context of the active situation influences how I mobilise, which is why in gestalt meaning is formulated as a figure considered against its ground. It isn’t the figure of interest alone that mobilises me, it is the relationship between the emerging figure of interest and its immediate context.

Action – “The energy is released”, as Zinker puts it. Action in the context of the gestalt cycle refers to whatever moment of release you have mobilised towards. It’s easy to identify the action stage of, say, swatting a fly. But looking at my example of listening to passing cars, it’s less immediately obvious, and this leads to possible objections of gestalt being overly action-oriented. In my rising and falling exercises, the key action is the passing of the car: “I can also see the car now, and hear the whooshing noise it makes as it passes by me”.

One of the things that quickly became apparent to me in observing the rising and falling of experience, was the occurrence of a peak moment. In listening to cars passing, mobilisation is covered well by the anticipation of the whooshing of the car as it passes. The action is *hearing*, which requires the action of putting energy into focusing concentration into that sense at the expense of others. It may not come with obvious bodily movements, but it remains a movement of the self, and an action of the contact boundary.

Final contact – “Contact is made with that which will satisfy the need”. Final contact can be hard to describe because it is heavily experiential and without much obvious objective manifestation. Try remembering a time you had a really insistent itch, one that needed a good few seconds of scratching. Maybe you were scratching around the area for a bit before really hitting the satisfying bit that makes you go “ahhhhhh, that’s the spot”. That, “ahhhhhhh”, is the moment of final contact; it’s the combination of the release of mobilised energy in the action stage with the experiential target of that action. It’s when you finish writing and checking an email and finally click send (ahhhhhh), or drink some water to quench your thirst (ahhhhh). It’s also the point where you get smacked in the face after bracing for impact (paf!), or when you open that bill you’ve been dreading and finally have a concrete number of £££s you can’t afford (oooof). Final contact is the gestalt’s flavour; it is fully experiencing the taste of the food of experience before you swallow it.

Satisfaction – The after glow of final contact is satisfaction. If a really good itch scratch has a final contact of “ahhhhhh”, then satisfaction is the pleasing sense of “mmmmm” afterwards, when you can still enjoy the absence of the itch. Satisfaction carries a positive value judgement, usually referring to a good thing, so it can be harder to apply it to getting smacked in the face or opening a horrific bill. But even here, there is a “sinking in” feeling that follows final contact (though with unpleasant experiences, we’re least likely to want to spend time in satisfaction, and are more prone to skipping straight into withdrawal or jumping into some kind of action to avoid those feelings). The satisfaction stage of a smack in the face is the relief of the act of violence having passed. The satisfaction stage of finding out what the damage is for a hefty bill could be a kind of resigned “well at least now I know”. If I was to rename the satisfaction stage with a more neutral word, I’d use resolution or completion, possibly even demobilisation. It is simply the feeling of the aftermath of something having happened as it falls away.

I personally think the gestalt cycle focuses more on gestalt formation than gestalt destruction, so think there’s work to be done on describing how a completed gestalt breaks down. This is potentially a side-effect of the early gestalt focus on the analogy of chewing and swallowing food. It’s fairly easy to map the process of putting food in your mouth, chewing it, then swallowing it, onto the gestalt cycle as it stands. But if satisfaction is the stage that follows swallowing, and sensation leads us into our next mouthful, where is the cycle describing the food’s journey through the rest of the digestive tract?

The gestalt cycle in practice

At this point, I am required by ancient gestalt custom to mention how Kurt Lewin once said, “there’s nothing so practical as good theory”, because the gestalt cycle is ultimately a practical tool. It’s useful for understanding what is going on with someone’s process, and pointing the way towards what to do about it.

The main function of a gestalt is to organise experience in a coherent way to allow situationally appropriate action. To this end, the gestalt cycle describes more or less how a gestalt comes into and out of being.

A common occurrence in therapy is for someone to talk about a problem they have had for a while, and experience a sudden rush of emotion. One of the most common phrases I’ve heard from clients when this happens is, “saying it out loud makes it more real”. Often, this simple experience is enough to start shifting a person out of an inner conflict and into action to rectify the situation.

The reason things feel more real when they’re spoken out loud to another person is because the process of that deliberate, purposeful communication supports contact with the content of what is being said. In terms of the gestalt cycle, we’re working with “final contact” here. There is already a sense of something being problematic (sensation), which is in the clients thoughts (awareness), and which they want to talk about (mobilisation).

The act of talking about it (action) then supports final contact with the entire gestalt, hence the rush of emotion and sudden sense of it being more real. Typically, this is then followed by a sense of calm as the tensions caught up in the problem are (for now at least) released (satisfaction).

This doesn’t mean that everyone needs to talk about something before they can make it real, just that this seems to often be the case for significant personal issues.

In the therapy session itself, the gestalt cycle offers me a way of thinking about what is happening in the therapeutic encounter at a given time, especially when things feel stuck or repetitive. It also gives me a kind of road map for a “good” gestalt. This needs to be applied gently, as otherwise all I’m doing is enforcing a different kind of shouldistic regulation: you should be forming better gestalts! You haven’t done the cycle properly!

Gently applied, it’s fairly easy to avoid that danger. The stages of the cycle simply offer one way (and a good way to avoid reification of a concept is to remember it is only one possible useful concept) of describing how to create and destroy an experience; it is primarily descriptive not prescriptive.

So in-session, it is a reflective tool that sits in the background of my attention, ideally only becoming a figure of interest to me when I spontaneously connect some aspect of the cycle with what is currently happening in the therapy. I’ve found that applying the cycle analytically just disrupts the flow of the therapy and becomes confusing. The most valuable application is when I’m talking with a client, and suddenly think, “there is mobilisation here but no action”. This is an optimal time to talk about what needs to be done and support someone in planning for action. Better yet, that mobilisation can be channelled into an experiment that rehearses or otherwise prepares for appropriate action.

On the other hand, if a client makes a huge breakthrough in therapy, and then quickly starts talking about a new topic, a kind of satisfaction klaxon goes off because we’re now skipping straight from final contact in one gestalt to sensation in another. It is rarely possible (in the beginning) with these examples to make someone “do satisfaction” (nor would it be desirable if it could), but I can at least draw attention to the process of moving quickly from one experience ending to another beginning.

Incidentally, I think the use of “satisfaction” to name this stage is exemplary, as the most effective way to live a dis-satisfying life is to never bask in the glow of being at rest between two tasks. And of course, the most effective way to become overly self-satisfied is to spend too much time resting on your laurels!

What hopefully stands out from the above is that the gestalt cycle works best as a meditation on the nature of processing experience. The more I contemplate the experiential nature of each stage, and of the progression from one stage to another, and the felt sense of what it is to spend too little or too much time in each stage, the more I assimilate the overall concept. This makes it more available to me in practice spontaneously as needed.

Recursive spiral clocks.

Timing is everything. I repeat, timing is everything!

the bristol therapist facebook page digest – january 2018

Quite a while back, I got excited and over-committed myself to an in-depth process of chewing over everything I read online that would culminate in a weekly digest. The two main outcomes of that experiment were an inability to get beyond week two, and a consequent reduction in how much online content I read.

The original point was to reduce the risk of introjecting ideas and values by ensuring that what I was reading was subjected to at least some degree of critical thought. As I couldn’t keep up with what I was reading, I was forced to question the behaviour as it started to seem compulsive. The end result was of becoming more discerning about what and how much online content I read; the unforeseen and welcome side effect of a gestalt experiment.

I still like the core idea though, so am resurrecting it in amended form for this therapy blog. I’ll aim to make it monthly rather than weekly, and focus on the articles I share through my facebook page. This also opens more possibility for dialogue, as I’m open to being sent links to interesting articles in a broadly therapy/psychology/being-human kind of vibe.

January was a quiet month for me on the facebook page, so I can overview everything here instead of choosing a top few articles. I imagine that in months where I post more, I’ll likely stick to a top five to stop this spiralling out of control.

I’m also going to err on the side of sloppy as this is meant to be about initial responses and chewing things over, so feel free to have at me in the comments.

~ ~ ~

If It’s Important, Learn It Repeatedly.

This blog post is a reflection on Cal Newport’s book Deep Work, which seems to be all about practices for focusing on in-depth pieces of work and not getting distracted. (I’ll let you know if I ever manage to read it!)

Reflecting on the inspiration he felt whilst reading the book, and how even by the end of the book that feeling was disippating, Ben says:

“The window to act on a timely idea is very small. The heat of inspiration only lasts a few days, or even hours, and if it runs out before you’ve formed and implemented a plan, you’re essentially back at the status quo.”

This resonates greatly for me in my work as a therapist (and reflecting on my own time in therapy as a client). The problem with breakthrough moments in therapy, the insights and the ah-ha of realisation, is that these moments by themselves aren’t usually enough to shift actual behaviour.

As therapists, we kind of rely on a naive assumption that, following such a breakthrough experience in the therapy session, the client will then automatically go out and change things in their everyday lives. But even a brief reflection on my own process reveals that I’m more likely to lose the “heat of inspiration” than turn it into tangible action.

This is in part why gestalt therapists assimilated the behavioural therapy practice of setting homework tasks to be carried out between sessions. This practice also lives on in modern day Cognitive Behavioural Therapy.

Then again, what we alos find in therapy is that the insights that are most important and driven by organismic need tend to recur. So at least part of the point of being in therapy long-term is to allow the repetition of gaining the same insight several times to take place in order to reinforce the necessary changes.

So when Ben talks about re-reading books:

“If you’ve ever read a book a second time, you may have noticed that it’s an entirely different experience from the first time. It doesn’t feel redundant or repetitive. Instead, it feels like gaps are being filled in. Different details strike you as important. The points you do remember now have the benefit of context, and much of it seems entirely new.”

He’s also summarising why the same insights need to be discovered and talked over in therapy. The analagy is with chewing food. Most mouthfuls of food need to be chewed several times before they are ready for swallowing. The same is true of insights in therapy; talking them over, then rediscovering them later and talking them over again allows us to assimilate the lessons and the changes more effectively.

TL;DR: “If it’s worth learning, it’s worth learning repeatedly.”

~ ~ ~

Antidepressants: Please, PLEASE, do not just abandon your meds!

This article is part of a continuing backlash against erstwhile journalist Johann Hari’s new book, Lost Connections: Uncovering the real causes of depression – and the unexpected solutions.

In short, Johann’s book seems to rely heavily on a simplistic medication = bad formulation that gives the impression people should abandon anti-depressants in pursuit of real “cures” for depression. This particularly article is a simple plea that people wanting to come off any kind of medication for depression, anxiety etc don’t just stop their meds, and at least go talk to their GP about it.

As for the wider issues with Johann’s book, well I’ve not read it so can’t comment directly on the text. However, one of the reasons I haven’t read it, and am wary of reading it, is that the very title contains two huge red flags. One is “real causes of depression”, and the other is “solutions”. The very idea that depression can be reduced to something that has identifiable causes and solutions is facile, and flies in the face of what most people discover about depression for themselves, both in and out of therapy.

I don’t mean that reasons for being depressed can’t be found, or that ways out of being depressed can’t be found. Just that, for the most part, you can’t say to someone, “your depression is caused by x, and if you do y, you will be cured”. Depression isn’t a disease to be cured.

Johann also doesn’t seem to be aware that there is a decades long tradition in psychotherapy of challenging the reductive idea of depression as a problem of brain chemistry. And performs a classic throwing out of the baby with the bathwater by seeming to conclude that medication can simply be jettisoned. Many people need to work on their depression through both medication and therapy.

So in part I shared this article to siugnal that I’m not in the “medication is inherently bad” camp. I’m still skeptical about the extent to which medication like antidepressants are prescribed, and think that a society that took depression seriously would be able to support most cases of depression without medication. But then, almost by definition, such a society would most likely experience very low levels of depression in the first place, such is the problem with any “in an ideal world” formulation!

In our current society, very little room is made for people to work through depression in the ways they need and in their own time. I get the sense that Johann Hari is arguing more or less the same thing, but presents it as a unique idea that has only just been stumbled on, and gives the impression that it’s possible to simply throw away the meds and kickstart that world right now.

TL;DR: It’s ok if you need meds. If you want to stop your meds, always work out a plan with your prescriber first.

~ ~ ~

This Is The Best Time To Do Anything: 4 Powerful Secrets From Research.

I’m a sucker for “secrets from research” type posts, even though the secrets have clearly been published in books and journals, so aren’t that much of a secret.

In the context of gestalt therapy, stuff like this plays to the idea that you’re better off tuning in to your own experience and working out what you need (organismic self-regulation) than adapting yourself to externally imposed ideas about what you should need (introjective or shouldistic self-regulation).

Which of course immediately throws up the objection that following our own needs is largely impossible given the consistent demands of school timetables and the workplace. But therapy doesn’t end at individual behavioural changes. To me, one of the signs of effective therapy, is getting people to the point at which they are able to challenge their own society and take political action.

Yes, school timetables are often rigid and tend to prioritise the needs of the school over the needs of the children and parents. So find parents who agree and channel that frustration into political pressure. Yes, the workplace grinds people into dust. So join a union, organise politically, negotiate explicit demands with other workers, and be prepared to engage in long-term political action.

Practically every course of therapy hits the boundary between individual need and social demands. These conflicts can’t be solved in one to one therapy. But they can be brought into awareness, explored, and a subsequent movement into political action can be supported.

TL;DR: Highlights from Dan Pink’s book When: the scientific secrets of perfect timing, especially for larks, night owls, and third birds.

~ ~ ~

Here’s what the evidence shows about the links between creativity and depression.

I really enjoy the British Psychological Society’s research digest. It’s a really good example of using blogging to make academic research accessible to a wider audience.

This post is based on a meta-analysis looking at the link between creativity and mental illness, prinipally mood disorders as this seems to be where the most research focuses. It suggests that a fruitful focus for further research would be into how creativity links to mood disorder.

Interestingly, in considering possible explanatons, Alex suggests creative lifestyle and the possibility that creativity simply expresses in a way that is more likely to match the symptomology of mood disorders eg:

“many aspects of the “flow state” – extended bursts of activity, disregarding the need for sleep or food, absorption or attentional wandering, rapidly flowing thoughts – are also treated as markers of bipolar disorder”

Working regularly with creative people in therapy, I’d suggest that highly creative people tend to also be more sensitive and emotionally oriented, and this opens them up to being more easily hurt by a society that tends not to value creatvity. The arts tend to be undervalued in education for example, and many of the creative clients I’ve worked with have reported feeling like they were a square peg being hammered into a round hole.

So yes, the lifestyles of creative industries likely contribute to the development of mood disorders, but the way creative people experience their world might be more casutive. Especially if you’re going to reference “the profligate substance misuse” as a given aspect of the creative lifestyle without asking from where the need for substance misuse arises.

TL;DR: Creative people are more likely than average to have a mood disorder, but people with mood disorders are not more likely than average to be creative.

~ ~ ~

Want to take your psychotherapy to the next level? Ask for what you want.

As will become clear as I unfold The Golden Arrow, wanting offers a major in-road into understanding what we need. What I like about this post is that it encourages clients to ask for what they want from their therapist.

I’d extend that to most relationships. It’s useful to ask yourself every now and then, “what do I want from this relationship?”. This is often hard for people because it feels like a very selfish or transactional thing to ask of a relationship. But ultimately, healthy relationships develop out of some kind of mutual need, and it’s ok to ask if the relationship is still mutually needful.

Asking for what you want is a way into that, not necessarily an end in itself. And in therapy at least, it can make for really interesting sessions that can redefine where the therapy is going.

TL;DR: It’s ok, and actively good, to tell your therapist what you want.

~ ~ ~

Photo credit: “…Time…” by Darren Tunnicliff, shared under Creative Commons.

Speak up!

Ask your MP to oppose NICE’s draft guideline for depression

UKCP recently issued a press release urging NICE not to publish its guideline for depression in adults. They provide a bullet …

Stressed person

Millennial stress: the more things change, the more they stay the same

This year, Mental Health Awareness week is themed around stress. As part of this, the United Kingdom Council for Psychotherapy …

dandelions in a field

Weeds or flowers? How neurosis is all about context

One of the core concepts in gestalt psychotherapy is contact. Specifically, gestalt therapists are interested in what happens …