I am a therapist and and also a client of therapy. There is good therapy and there is bad therapy and everything in between. And there are so many different approaches that it is hard to lump it all together to answer your question. The right approach at the right time for the right person is magic. Some people just need to talk and be heard. Some people need help getting into their bodies to feel, and to stay out of their minds and the story so much. Some people need strong medicine like psychedelics or MDMA. There is no one size fits all. And the relationship is essential. It's not about "fixing." As Leonard Cohen said, "The cracks are where the light gets in (or out)." It's about finding the light in the darkness.
You've summed it up Diana. I bet you're a brilliant therapist. The Leonard Cohen quote was the favourite of my friend Clay, who died recently (I wrote a post about him) so it really does it home. (Also, my youngest son's middle name is Leonard.) xL
A little over three years ago, in the midst of ending a very long marriage in which I was deeply emotionally abused and occasionally physically abused, I began looking for a therapist. My husband and I had had couples therapy and for the first time, I discovered that I could say things in that space that I had never been able to say before (and it was years before I understood that I had entered those sessions in order to be able to safely leave).
It was eight months after that I finally found the courage to look for a therapist for myself. I use the word 'courage' because I felt ashamed of needing one.
I spoke to four therapists. Money was an issue and I also instinctively knew that the right fit was important, but had zero idea of what I was looking for. I just told them that I didn't know what was wrong but that I didn't want to be 'broken'. I couldn't describe how I felt in any other way.
Three and a half years of weekly sessions later, I am a more stable, kind, empathetic and joyful person who is finally able to ask for the things she wants and live life lightly (okay, there are some very dark days but no one is perfect).
Agreed. It is wonderful and heartening to hear these stories of people like Gina and you, Caroline, who've found the therapist version of "the one" -- or at least "the one" who was able to help you at that specific moment in your life. If you have any thoughts on how to know when you know, please share them... looking for the right therapist can sometimes feel as confusing as dating, and far more expensive and emotionally daunting. But what seems obvious from this thread is that that when the fit is right the results can be astonishing. xxx
I love this question. I’ve been thinking about how therapy can only take into account one side of the story. Isn’t that peculiar in a way if the goal is to heal as a citizen of the world. Like the opposite of wholistic/big picture/lacking in nuance/context at times. I’m musing on this these days.
Yes, I also think about this. A lot of the therapy process (in my experience) is about learning to have a more sympathetic understanding of oneself that is not so rooted in shame (the whole notion of healing the inner child, self-care etc.) but it’s difficult to do so without blaming others — who are of course just fallible people with traumas of their own. Personal accountability seems to get lost. Or maybe not?
Maybe it depends on why you try therapy? If you’re unhappy with yourself, there really is only your side of the story. It may well be a “false narrative” but it’s yours until the therapist helps you look from another perspective.
I know many people who claim to have benefited from therapy. In my case, therapy ruined my life. When I started therapy in 2018 I was going through a mild burnout. Stress was manifesting physically, as chronic abdominal pain, and my GP referred me to someone for psychotherapy. It turns out this therapist is a gifted manipulator who did a great job of building a so-called therapeutic alliance. Only, instead of helping me find my feet, he created an unhealthy dependence on him, and turned things from bad to worse. In hindsight, I can see exactly where things went wrong, including his own limitations (and unbridled ego), and how this played to my desperate need to be seen. His methods were questionable, bordering on unethical at times. If I’d known more about the therapeutic process when I began this journey, I would have quickly identified his incompetence. But he came recommended, and I was green, so I had no reason to doubt. Like any abuser, he was proficient at the grooming process. Now, even though I no longer work with him, the damage has been done. At this point I don’t see how I’ll ever recover. I went from being a high-functioning professional with a husband and career and home and two beloved cats and friends and normal-people problems, going through mild burnout, to becoming severely depressed, unemployed, separated, acutely lonely, and chronically suicidal. I’ve tried every treatment imaginable and seen countless other mental health professionals during my three subsequent hospital stays. In spite of searing psychic pain, I push myself to exercise, eat well, meditate, and change up the scenery from time to time, etc.—all meant to help with depression. Nothing works. My mind is so thoroughly discombobulated, I have trouble trusting anybody. With no relief from this incessant pain—and failure after failure in terms of treatments—I’ve lost all hope. By now I know myself inside out. I have more self-awareness than one ever needs to navigate the world with their sanity intact. I’m familiar with CBT, DBT, EMDR, and all of the other therapeutic acronyms. I’ve read extensively about complex PTSD and treatment-resistant depression and cases studies of patients. I’ve joined support groups and journaled and done art therapy. I’ve had countless combinations of medication, including ketamine treatment, which they only give you when nothing else works. Meanwhile, I remain a helpless, hopeless mass of suffering. That’s what the gift of therapy for me. I feel so much rage at the injustice of our inadequate mental health system. There are no checks and balances. Bad therapists get away without any retribution, while desperate people queue at their doorstep. In the end, they line their pockets off the back of our suffering without offering any kind of useful solutions once the going gets really tough. In short, therapy didn’t work for me. It destroyed anything good in my life and left me all alone, in perpetual existential despair, thanks to all of the navel- and star-gazing.
Dear A, I am so sorry for the suffering you've described here. When I read your post it actually brought tears to my eyes and I decided to take a few days to process it before responding. The abuse of power you are describing here is, in my experience, not uncommon. I know of at least two instances of women who, in fact, sexually abused *as minors* by their therapists. And as you point out, given the parameters of the therapist/patient relationship, this is always a risk. In my memoir I write briefly about a therapist who helped me very much but who later cultivated a friendship with my mother -- who had been the main subject of my therapy with her. While this certainly wasn't abuse, I found it deeply disturbing and it made me question the idea of therapy as a panacea for our age.... but I have also known so many people who've been helped by it too, so it's confusing. This is all to say, I'm sorry you've had to go through this. I also wanted to recommend a podcast which deals with the very same subject -- it's called The Shrink Next Door, a narrative nonfiction podcast, I highly recommend it. In any case, I am honoured you felt comfortable sharing your story because I think it's an important one for everyone to hear. Love to you, Leah xxx
Thanks for your thoughtful reply, Leah. Like you, I’ve heard for too many stories of abuse within this profession and my therapist also cultivated a relationship with someone extremely close to me during treatment, which feels creepy (I only discovered this liaison after terminating treatment with him).
At the same time, I hear of countless people who turned their life around with the help of a competent, compassionate therapist. I guess it’s the luck of the draw. And that’s what I refuse to accept: we must find a better way of monitoring quality. When I worked in the corporate world, we were held to account for our performance. You couldn’t put a product out into the world if it harmed consumers. This would cause extreme backlash against the company, and rightfully so. If psychiatry was held to the same standards, my former therapist—and the ones you describe—wouldn’t be able to practice.
If nothing else, this whole saga may unleash a new personal mission to advocate for raising the standards of mental health care. We’ve got a long way to go, so this should keep me busy for a lifetime! I very much look forward to reading your book. It’s the next one up on my night table. And I’ll be sure to check out that podcast. Much love, Aimée
I spent time in a psychiatric hospital ( two stays to be precise) in my late twenties. I was a young mom, had a traumatic period as a child with a mother who had herself been abused as a child so I was textbook material for a breakdown.
During my second stay, I met a shrink who took me on after I got rid of the creep who had been making matters worse.
After I was discharged, I saw the new guy, a child psychiatrist, (I found that part comforting) every Tuesday for four years.
It worked for me. Had the ah hah moment, the whole nine yards.
As an almost 73 year old granny, I still wrestle with depression but am able to turn it around with plenty of walking, drawing, reading and meditation. By the latter, I really mean deep breathing to ward off anxiety.
So yes, a fan of talk therapy if past trauma needs to be unwrapped, any of the newer drugs for chronic disorders and hopefully if back on any sort of track that will get you where you want to go, the will to treat yourself well, get outside, look up and count your fucking blessings.
I would not go back to my late 20s for anything Pam. I'm curious, why did the creep therapist make it worse? Interesting that a child psychologist ultimately helped you. A few years ago in the UK they raised the age of "minor" to 25 in mental health because of new advances in neurology and brain development. https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/explore-mental-health/a-z-topics/children-and-young-people
Oddly, the first psychiatrist was already treating my husband and I saw him on an emergency basis.
He betrayed doctor patient confidence after a few sessions with me and told my husband confidential information.
I was already in the hospital when I found out and had a very public exchange with the man. It was ugly, the nurses sided with me, a report was filed and I inherited the better fit. And better human.
That's a dreadful (but not uncommon) story and I'm sorry you and many others have had to go through it. In my memoir I include a story of a therapist who did something I felt crossed an ethical line, though it wasn't quite as cut and dry as yours. On reflection I think it might be one of the reasons I'm apprehensive of the process. Still, this thread has renewed my hope!
I gobbled it up in two nights. Brave, riveting, troubling and hopefully cathartic.
I recognized two of the men in your book immediately. Never had THAT happen before.😂
Re: renewing hope, You are a strong, clever woman with two delightful kids (I follow you on Instagram)and have done the unspeakable -bared old wounds publicly. My issues were never enmeshment, quite the opposite. I was terrified of my mother at a critical, tender age and only came to have respect and love for her when she turned 90!
She’s 96 now and will probably outlive us all. My two younger sisters have died and Mom’s grace and dignity have affected me profoundly.
So, in my case, the person who I had the most difficulty understanding and accepting has become, at long last, a person I love and admire.
I am grammypammy49 on Instagram and the woman who replaced your mother at The Peterborough Examiner.
Five years ago, our family suffered the unexpected loss of our younger son and brother. He was only 19 so had a lot of life yet to live.
After 3 mos of Being A Mom And Wife (ie making sure everyone was as ok as they could be) our older son returned to uni and hubby to work. I had been the strong one and now I was lost.
I had been advised to “seek help” by all and sundry but frankly, unless there was a magician who could to bring Graham back, I didn’t see the point.
So instead, I basically dropped out of life, spending all day in bed, reading every news source known to man. No one knew because we had many friends to see and social work obligations to fulfill. I did this by calculating how much time it would take me to get ready (hair, makeup, dress) and subtracting.
But as you can imagine, living like this was exhausting and I started to crack.
LSS, I was lucky. I found a truly exceptional therapist by accident, by writing into her weekly column in the Times of London. The next week, to my shock, I was Sarah from Brighton and she’d turned a letter that ended “I don’t even know why I’m writing this but I feel better for having done so” into something coherent. I can’t remember now what she advised but what does stick in my mind is that she told me that I was very self-aware when I thought I was The World’s Worst Mother. LSS again, we were in London the next month and I saw her at her office. We’ve been speaking by phone every month since. I saw her in person her for the second time recently when we travelled to London, post-covid.
Sooooo…I guess talk therapy has helped me. But it only helped because Tanya Byron is an extraordinarily gifted clinical psychologist with whom I made a connection. I take no credit for this. I believe, with all my heart, that Graham brought us together. 🙏
Gina, You have been through the most extraordinary tragedy — I’m so sorry for your loss and also awed by your resilience. The fact that even at your lowest ebb (which must have been unfathomably painful) you still even *tried* to pretend to be okay for the sake of your family is an astonishing testimony to your strength. And the story of how you found your therapist is also extraordinary! It’s enormously heartening to me that those advice columns sometimes lead to deeper therapeutic relationships and healing. I’m also a huge fan of Phillipa Perry in the Observer. What finally prompted you to write to her? Also , how have you found the process helpful? Was it just being able to express your grief without fear of letting your loved ones down? It does sound like you were an ideal candidate for talk therapy — I’m so glad to hear it’s helped you so much. It’s really astonishing and hopeful.
Leah, I wrote to her on a whim. I read her column and one day it must have seemed like a good idea to reach out. Never in a million years did I expect a response, let alone a long term relationship.
I found the process helpful from the moment I met her. She could see that I wasn’t interested in navel gazing but rather sought practical ideas that would help me separate my grief over Graham from my everyday life. Even from the letter she could see that I suffered from Prolonged Grief Disorder because Graham died 14/12/16 and I wrote to her in 4/19. I needed to find a way to shift my feelings about Graham so that they “sat on my shoulder” and moved through each day with me, not hit me in the face every morning and paralyze me.
And yes, I was able to express my grief in ways that would have certainly alarmed a friend or family member who might be listening, so that was helpful. And she tried as hard as she could to help me believe that it wasn’t my fault, that Graham was just wasn’t thinking clearly. But as a mother, I’m sure you know that’s that’s not really ever going to happen. She helped me understand the situation “intellectually” but emotionally? Never going to happen. Even as I write this I hear her asking me if perhaps I feel that way because if I were to feel too much better it would mean that I’ve forgotten about Graham, or at least stopped grieving him. Of course she’s right, but…
Anyway, I was very lucky. I shutter to think what I’d be like if I hadn’t met her.
Interestingly, I had already figured out I had some form of abnormally prolonged and paralyzing grief. I had been to a Compassionate Friends retreat which helped because I met other people who actually knew how I felt because they felt exactly the same way. And they were still standing. And it was in Birmingham. I would never have gone to something like that in Toronto.
I also told her I was getting a dog. I told a friend that I felt that I was disappearing a little every day and that one day there just wouldn’t be anything left. Whatever that means. She blabbed to my hubby and then everyone ganged up on me (in the nicest way possible) and bullied me into getting a dog. No one who owns a dog can stay in bed all day😉. And now we have two!
I depended on travel to survive (my pretend life!) so when covid came and I was grounded, I freaked. This feeling was different from the sadness of grief. Tanya said I had depleted my serotonin just trying to survive and this unacceptable change to a lifestyle that had helped me survive was too much. She suggested I take an SSI and it has helped. Interesting that depression and grief feel very different and that I could tell immediately.
So that’s my experience, based on a very specific tragic event. This was my first encounter with talk therapy and it has helped me enormously.
I NEVER talk about this because, as I like to say, nobody likes a sad sack. Thank you for giving us a forum where we feel comfortable to honestly express ourselves. Xo
And btw, I love a sad sack! Or to put it more correctly, I'd take an insightful, articulate, self-aware sad/mad/conflicted person over a brittle, smug, humourless positive one any day. I just watched All My Puny Sorrows (the movie based one the Miriam Toews book) on the plane back from Canada to London and was thinking about this the whole way. Sadness, anger, conflict, darkness are so much a part of the human experience, whether they pounce on you from inside or outside (or both), it's like they will pounce, and when they do it's so helpful to have some way of talking and thinking about them -- drawing the light from the cracks. xxL
Travel and dogs have saved countless human lives (and minds and hearts) -- never mind that the two are extremely incompatible! I know everyone loves to hate EasyJet/Ryan Air etc. but I honestly don't think I could bear to live in the UK without them... just prior to the first lockdown I fled with my children to Wales. My husband, a journalist, had to continue going into the newsroom and at the time London was strangely frightening, plus we have NO GARDEN so he said, 'Pack the car now and GO!' We ended up in Carmarthenshire and it was lovely. I became (and remain!) obsessed with Wales... but my Wales obsession was somewhat disturbing/confounding to many of my British friends (mostly in their 40s/50s) who, I slowly realised, had been traumatised by rainy Welsh holidays growing up in the pre-Easy Jet 70s/80s. Point being: Whatever gets you through!
I've just looked up Inner Family Systems (or Internal Family Systems) and am presuming you mean this one https://ifs-institute.com . It seems fascinating. I'd like to know how it worked for you and also if you have any recommended books or essays on how it works. I think the idea that we do not exist in isolation but in fact in plural, both as selves and as individuals within families is completely fascinating -- and perhaps indeed the missing link for many people when it comes to healing.
My god, this *fascinating* -- thank you for sharing. Very germane to so much great art and literature as well. And the movie Inside Out (a work of genius!) I'm going to dive in and have a read.
I am a therapist and and also a client of therapy. There is good therapy and there is bad therapy and everything in between. And there are so many different approaches that it is hard to lump it all together to answer your question. The right approach at the right time for the right person is magic. Some people just need to talk and be heard. Some people need help getting into their bodies to feel, and to stay out of their minds and the story so much. Some people need strong medicine like psychedelics or MDMA. There is no one size fits all. And the relationship is essential. It's not about "fixing." As Leonard Cohen said, "The cracks are where the light gets in (or out)." It's about finding the light in the darkness.
You've summed it up Diana. I bet you're a brilliant therapist. The Leonard Cohen quote was the favourite of my friend Clay, who died recently (I wrote a post about him) so it really does it home. (Also, my youngest son's middle name is Leonard.) xL
A little over three years ago, in the midst of ending a very long marriage in which I was deeply emotionally abused and occasionally physically abused, I began looking for a therapist. My husband and I had had couples therapy and for the first time, I discovered that I could say things in that space that I had never been able to say before (and it was years before I understood that I had entered those sessions in order to be able to safely leave).
It was eight months after that I finally found the courage to look for a therapist for myself. I use the word 'courage' because I felt ashamed of needing one.
I spoke to four therapists. Money was an issue and I also instinctively knew that the right fit was important, but had zero idea of what I was looking for. I just told them that I didn't know what was wrong but that I didn't want to be 'broken'. I couldn't describe how I felt in any other way.
Three and a half years of weekly sessions later, I am a more stable, kind, empathetic and joyful person who is finally able to ask for the things she wants and live life lightly (okay, there are some very dark days but no one is perfect).
This is the benefit of therapy, at least for me.
I’m so glad you found a good fit who was able to help🙏
Agreed. It is wonderful and heartening to hear these stories of people like Gina and you, Caroline, who've found the therapist version of "the one" -- or at least "the one" who was able to help you at that specific moment in your life. If you have any thoughts on how to know when you know, please share them... looking for the right therapist can sometimes feel as confusing as dating, and far more expensive and emotionally daunting. But what seems obvious from this thread is that that when the fit is right the results can be astonishing. xxx
I love this question. I’ve been thinking about how therapy can only take into account one side of the story. Isn’t that peculiar in a way if the goal is to heal as a citizen of the world. Like the opposite of wholistic/big picture/lacking in nuance/context at times. I’m musing on this these days.
Yes, I also think about this. A lot of the therapy process (in my experience) is about learning to have a more sympathetic understanding of oneself that is not so rooted in shame (the whole notion of healing the inner child, self-care etc.) but it’s difficult to do so without blaming others — who are of course just fallible people with traumas of their own. Personal accountability seems to get lost. Or maybe not?
Maybe it depends on why you try therapy? If you’re unhappy with yourself, there really is only your side of the story. It may well be a “false narrative” but it’s yours until the therapist helps you look from another perspective.
I know many people who claim to have benefited from therapy. In my case, therapy ruined my life. When I started therapy in 2018 I was going through a mild burnout. Stress was manifesting physically, as chronic abdominal pain, and my GP referred me to someone for psychotherapy. It turns out this therapist is a gifted manipulator who did a great job of building a so-called therapeutic alliance. Only, instead of helping me find my feet, he created an unhealthy dependence on him, and turned things from bad to worse. In hindsight, I can see exactly where things went wrong, including his own limitations (and unbridled ego), and how this played to my desperate need to be seen. His methods were questionable, bordering on unethical at times. If I’d known more about the therapeutic process when I began this journey, I would have quickly identified his incompetence. But he came recommended, and I was green, so I had no reason to doubt. Like any abuser, he was proficient at the grooming process. Now, even though I no longer work with him, the damage has been done. At this point I don’t see how I’ll ever recover. I went from being a high-functioning professional with a husband and career and home and two beloved cats and friends and normal-people problems, going through mild burnout, to becoming severely depressed, unemployed, separated, acutely lonely, and chronically suicidal. I’ve tried every treatment imaginable and seen countless other mental health professionals during my three subsequent hospital stays. In spite of searing psychic pain, I push myself to exercise, eat well, meditate, and change up the scenery from time to time, etc.—all meant to help with depression. Nothing works. My mind is so thoroughly discombobulated, I have trouble trusting anybody. With no relief from this incessant pain—and failure after failure in terms of treatments—I’ve lost all hope. By now I know myself inside out. I have more self-awareness than one ever needs to navigate the world with their sanity intact. I’m familiar with CBT, DBT, EMDR, and all of the other therapeutic acronyms. I’ve read extensively about complex PTSD and treatment-resistant depression and cases studies of patients. I’ve joined support groups and journaled and done art therapy. I’ve had countless combinations of medication, including ketamine treatment, which they only give you when nothing else works. Meanwhile, I remain a helpless, hopeless mass of suffering. That’s what the gift of therapy for me. I feel so much rage at the injustice of our inadequate mental health system. There are no checks and balances. Bad therapists get away without any retribution, while desperate people queue at their doorstep. In the end, they line their pockets off the back of our suffering without offering any kind of useful solutions once the going gets really tough. In short, therapy didn’t work for me. It destroyed anything good in my life and left me all alone, in perpetual existential despair, thanks to all of the navel- and star-gazing.
Dear A, I am so sorry for the suffering you've described here. When I read your post it actually brought tears to my eyes and I decided to take a few days to process it before responding. The abuse of power you are describing here is, in my experience, not uncommon. I know of at least two instances of women who, in fact, sexually abused *as minors* by their therapists. And as you point out, given the parameters of the therapist/patient relationship, this is always a risk. In my memoir I write briefly about a therapist who helped me very much but who later cultivated a friendship with my mother -- who had been the main subject of my therapy with her. While this certainly wasn't abuse, I found it deeply disturbing and it made me question the idea of therapy as a panacea for our age.... but I have also known so many people who've been helped by it too, so it's confusing. This is all to say, I'm sorry you've had to go through this. I also wanted to recommend a podcast which deals with the very same subject -- it's called The Shrink Next Door, a narrative nonfiction podcast, I highly recommend it. In any case, I am honoured you felt comfortable sharing your story because I think it's an important one for everyone to hear. Love to you, Leah xxx
Thanks for your thoughtful reply, Leah. Like you, I’ve heard for too many stories of abuse within this profession and my therapist also cultivated a relationship with someone extremely close to me during treatment, which feels creepy (I only discovered this liaison after terminating treatment with him).
At the same time, I hear of countless people who turned their life around with the help of a competent, compassionate therapist. I guess it’s the luck of the draw. And that’s what I refuse to accept: we must find a better way of monitoring quality. When I worked in the corporate world, we were held to account for our performance. You couldn’t put a product out into the world if it harmed consumers. This would cause extreme backlash against the company, and rightfully so. If psychiatry was held to the same standards, my former therapist—and the ones you describe—wouldn’t be able to practice.
If nothing else, this whole saga may unleash a new personal mission to advocate for raising the standards of mental health care. We’ve got a long way to go, so this should keep me busy for a lifetime! I very much look forward to reading your book. It’s the next one up on my night table. And I’ll be sure to check out that podcast. Much love, Aimée
Hi Leah, jumping on Jessica’s great thread
Yes, IFS, EMDR are the emerging neuroscience approaches as well as integrated work with psychedelics and grounded spirituality
Like your book, this memoir depicts chaotic mother’s/childhoods and healing trauma through modalities that actually shift people
The book is “Talk Therapy Isn’t Enough: a Psychotherapist’s Personal Transformation”
https://www.amazon.ca/dp/1951692217
Thanks for all your work!
Wonderful -- thanks so much. I will plunge in!
I spent time in a psychiatric hospital ( two stays to be precise) in my late twenties. I was a young mom, had a traumatic period as a child with a mother who had herself been abused as a child so I was textbook material for a breakdown.
During my second stay, I met a shrink who took me on after I got rid of the creep who had been making matters worse.
After I was discharged, I saw the new guy, a child psychiatrist, (I found that part comforting) every Tuesday for four years.
It worked for me. Had the ah hah moment, the whole nine yards.
As an almost 73 year old granny, I still wrestle with depression but am able to turn it around with plenty of walking, drawing, reading and meditation. By the latter, I really mean deep breathing to ward off anxiety.
So yes, a fan of talk therapy if past trauma needs to be unwrapped, any of the newer drugs for chronic disorders and hopefully if back on any sort of track that will get you where you want to go, the will to treat yourself well, get outside, look up and count your fucking blessings.
I would not go back to my late 20s for anything Pam. I'm curious, why did the creep therapist make it worse? Interesting that a child psychologist ultimately helped you. A few years ago in the UK they raised the age of "minor" to 25 in mental health because of new advances in neurology and brain development. https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/explore-mental-health/a-z-topics/children-and-young-people
Also: may I have your permission to put "get outside, look up and count your fucking blessings" on my tomb stone? (Happy to attribute the quote!)
Ha! Be my guest.
Oddly, the first psychiatrist was already treating my husband and I saw him on an emergency basis.
He betrayed doctor patient confidence after a few sessions with me and told my husband confidential information.
I was already in the hospital when I found out and had a very public exchange with the man. It was ugly, the nurses sided with me, a report was filed and I inherited the better fit. And better human.
That's a dreadful (but not uncommon) story and I'm sorry you and many others have had to go through it. In my memoir I include a story of a therapist who did something I felt crossed an ethical line, though it wasn't quite as cut and dry as yours. On reflection I think it might be one of the reasons I'm apprehensive of the process. Still, this thread has renewed my hope!
My daughter loaned me her copy of your memoir.
I gobbled it up in two nights. Brave, riveting, troubling and hopefully cathartic.
I recognized two of the men in your book immediately. Never had THAT happen before.😂
Re: renewing hope, You are a strong, clever woman with two delightful kids (I follow you on Instagram)and have done the unspeakable -bared old wounds publicly. My issues were never enmeshment, quite the opposite. I was terrified of my mother at a critical, tender age and only came to have respect and love for her when she turned 90!
She’s 96 now and will probably outlive us all. My two younger sisters have died and Mom’s grace and dignity have affected me profoundly.
So, in my case, the person who I had the most difficulty understanding and accepting has become, at long last, a person I love and admire.
I am grammypammy49 on Instagram and the woman who replaced your mother at The Peterborough Examiner.
Five years ago, our family suffered the unexpected loss of our younger son and brother. He was only 19 so had a lot of life yet to live.
After 3 mos of Being A Mom And Wife (ie making sure everyone was as ok as they could be) our older son returned to uni and hubby to work. I had been the strong one and now I was lost.
I had been advised to “seek help” by all and sundry but frankly, unless there was a magician who could to bring Graham back, I didn’t see the point.
So instead, I basically dropped out of life, spending all day in bed, reading every news source known to man. No one knew because we had many friends to see and social work obligations to fulfill. I did this by calculating how much time it would take me to get ready (hair, makeup, dress) and subtracting.
But as you can imagine, living like this was exhausting and I started to crack.
LSS, I was lucky. I found a truly exceptional therapist by accident, by writing into her weekly column in the Times of London. The next week, to my shock, I was Sarah from Brighton and she’d turned a letter that ended “I don’t even know why I’m writing this but I feel better for having done so” into something coherent. I can’t remember now what she advised but what does stick in my mind is that she told me that I was very self-aware when I thought I was The World’s Worst Mother. LSS again, we were in London the next month and I saw her at her office. We’ve been speaking by phone every month since. I saw her in person her for the second time recently when we travelled to London, post-covid.
Sooooo…I guess talk therapy has helped me. But it only helped because Tanya Byron is an extraordinarily gifted clinical psychologist with whom I made a connection. I take no credit for this. I believe, with all my heart, that Graham brought us together. 🙏
Gina, You have been through the most extraordinary tragedy — I’m so sorry for your loss and also awed by your resilience. The fact that even at your lowest ebb (which must have been unfathomably painful) you still even *tried* to pretend to be okay for the sake of your family is an astonishing testimony to your strength. And the story of how you found your therapist is also extraordinary! It’s enormously heartening to me that those advice columns sometimes lead to deeper therapeutic relationships and healing. I’m also a huge fan of Phillipa Perry in the Observer. What finally prompted you to write to her? Also , how have you found the process helpful? Was it just being able to express your grief without fear of letting your loved ones down? It does sound like you were an ideal candidate for talk therapy — I’m so glad to hear it’s helped you so much. It’s really astonishing and hopeful.
Leah, I wrote to her on a whim. I read her column and one day it must have seemed like a good idea to reach out. Never in a million years did I expect a response, let alone a long term relationship.
I found the process helpful from the moment I met her. She could see that I wasn’t interested in navel gazing but rather sought practical ideas that would help me separate my grief over Graham from my everyday life. Even from the letter she could see that I suffered from Prolonged Grief Disorder because Graham died 14/12/16 and I wrote to her in 4/19. I needed to find a way to shift my feelings about Graham so that they “sat on my shoulder” and moved through each day with me, not hit me in the face every morning and paralyze me.
And yes, I was able to express my grief in ways that would have certainly alarmed a friend or family member who might be listening, so that was helpful. And she tried as hard as she could to help me believe that it wasn’t my fault, that Graham was just wasn’t thinking clearly. But as a mother, I’m sure you know that’s that’s not really ever going to happen. She helped me understand the situation “intellectually” but emotionally? Never going to happen. Even as I write this I hear her asking me if perhaps I feel that way because if I were to feel too much better it would mean that I’ve forgotten about Graham, or at least stopped grieving him. Of course she’s right, but…
Anyway, I was very lucky. I shutter to think what I’d be like if I hadn’t met her.
Interestingly, I had already figured out I had some form of abnormally prolonged and paralyzing grief. I had been to a Compassionate Friends retreat which helped because I met other people who actually knew how I felt because they felt exactly the same way. And they were still standing. And it was in Birmingham. I would never have gone to something like that in Toronto.
I also told her I was getting a dog. I told a friend that I felt that I was disappearing a little every day and that one day there just wouldn’t be anything left. Whatever that means. She blabbed to my hubby and then everyone ganged up on me (in the nicest way possible) and bullied me into getting a dog. No one who owns a dog can stay in bed all day😉. And now we have two!
I depended on travel to survive (my pretend life!) so when covid came and I was grounded, I freaked. This feeling was different from the sadness of grief. Tanya said I had depleted my serotonin just trying to survive and this unacceptable change to a lifestyle that had helped me survive was too much. She suggested I take an SSI and it has helped. Interesting that depression and grief feel very different and that I could tell immediately.
So that’s my experience, based on a very specific tragic event. This was my first encounter with talk therapy and it has helped me enormously.
I NEVER talk about this because, as I like to say, nobody likes a sad sack. Thank you for giving us a forum where we feel comfortable to honestly express ourselves. Xo
And btw, I love a sad sack! Or to put it more correctly, I'd take an insightful, articulate, self-aware sad/mad/conflicted person over a brittle, smug, humourless positive one any day. I just watched All My Puny Sorrows (the movie based one the Miriam Toews book) on the plane back from Canada to London and was thinking about this the whole way. Sadness, anger, conflict, darkness are so much a part of the human experience, whether they pounce on you from inside or outside (or both), it's like they will pounce, and when they do it's so helpful to have some way of talking and thinking about them -- drawing the light from the cracks. xxL
Travel and dogs have saved countless human lives (and minds and hearts) -- never mind that the two are extremely incompatible! I know everyone loves to hate EasyJet/Ryan Air etc. but I honestly don't think I could bear to live in the UK without them... just prior to the first lockdown I fled with my children to Wales. My husband, a journalist, had to continue going into the newsroom and at the time London was strangely frightening, plus we have NO GARDEN so he said, 'Pack the car now and GO!' We ended up in Carmarthenshire and it was lovely. I became (and remain!) obsessed with Wales... but my Wales obsession was somewhat disturbing/confounding to many of my British friends (mostly in their 40s/50s) who, I slowly realised, had been traumatised by rainy Welsh holidays growing up in the pre-Easy Jet 70s/80s. Point being: Whatever gets you through!
I've just looked up Inner Family Systems (or Internal Family Systems) and am presuming you mean this one https://ifs-institute.com . It seems fascinating. I'd like to know how it worked for you and also if you have any recommended books or essays on how it works. I think the idea that we do not exist in isolation but in fact in plural, both as selves and as individuals within families is completely fascinating -- and perhaps indeed the missing link for many people when it comes to healing.
My god, this *fascinating* -- thank you for sharing. Very germane to so much great art and literature as well. And the movie Inside Out (a work of genius!) I'm going to dive in and have a read.