JENNIFER TANTIA, PHD SOMATIC PSYCHOTHERAPY

Look Further

10/18/2021

One day I was riding the subway. It was the end of the day, and I was exhausted and starving. I stood, barely hanging onto the pole in the middle of the car, desperate to sit down, and dreaming about what I was going to eat when I got home at the end of my 20 minute car ride. There was an incredibly obese man sitting down, and taking up two seats, and I watched as he devoured several bags of chips. One after another, they continually emerged from his enormous sweatshirt, and flowed into his mouth without a hiccup; the empty bags flowing equally form his mouth back into his sweatshirt pocket. He must have eaten about five bags of chips while my weary (hungry) ass stood watching.

Somehow, I saw his “heart” and my entire experience was different than it could have been. I could have been angry, and judge him for his body size that took up two seats (one of which I could have been sitting in). I could have judged the way that he ate horrific food, and didn’t take care of himself, or that he was violating the “no food and drink” rule on the subway. I could have been jealous that he got to eat while I was still so hungry, since I would have eaten my own arm if I could at that point. Instead, I saw his heart, and began to indulge in what I saw as his enjoyment of eating those chips. I fantasized about how great it would feel to have a great soft body that could simply take in all that salty greasy food, and how enjoyable it would be to eat five bags of chips at that moment.

Suddenly, he reached down into the bag that was between his legs on the floor, and pulled out a two-liter bottle of soda. I must have been staring at him, because it was then that I realized that he was looking straight at me. He smiled and said, “Those little bottles just aren’t enough for me.” I began to laugh, and he laughed, and we both just laughed together for a few minutes in the middle of a crowded New York City subway. Even as I write this, I can’t help but giggle. As he stood up to leave the subway car, he touched my shoulder and said, “You have a beautiful day, now, alright?”
I already was.

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Ten Tips for Getting the Most Out of Your Therapy*

2/24/2015

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Give Yourself Time: We call it a therapy hour but it's only 50 minutes. Get your money's worth by arriving 10 minutes early to catch your breath, collect your thoughts and prepare for your session.

Business First: Take care of payment, scheduling and insurance questions at the start of the session. Nothing's more awkward than ending a session with a big revelation or emotional breakthrough followed by three minutes of check writing and calendar navigation. Get all those logistical issues out of the way at the beginning.

Forget the Clock: Show up early, but let the therapist be in charge of ending the session on time. You've got enough to think about during the session, the therapist can be responsible for wrapping up.

Make it Part of Your Life: Therapy works best when you take what you've learned and apply it to the rest of your week. Between sessions, notice areas in your life you'd like to explore. Maybe you'd find it helpful to engage in…

Relationship Next: Following those business items, issues regarding the relationship with your therapist (if there are any) come next. This could be anything - you're thinking about termination, you felt angry after the last session, you're worried what she thinks of you, you had a dream about her, etc. These relationship issues take top priority because they will impact all other areas of your therapy.

Say the Odd Thought: Therapy is one place where strange thoughts are acceptable. In fact, the odder the better. Have a sudden impulse? Say it. Flash to a certain memory? Talk about it. The phrase some things are better left unsaid doesn't apply here so speak freely and you might learn something interesting.

What do I Want? How do I Feel? These two questions are home base for clients who feel stuck. If you find yourself lost and don't know what to talk about, revisit these questions and you're bound to find material to discuss.

Go Deeper: If you find yourself running through mundane details of your week or hitting awkward silences, maybe there's a deeper issue you're avoiding. Ask what it is you're not talking about and talk about it. Discuss what you're discovering about yourself. Take the time to explore who you are, what you feel and why you do what you do. Push beyond it is what it is or whatever and tackle some deeper questions. Try: "I wonder why I ___" or: "Deep down, I really feel ___".

Don't Fear the End: From the beginning, talk about when you'll know you're ready to leave therapy. Rather than cut and run, let therapy be one experience of a truly good ending. All good endings help heal prior bad endings…and help you to create better endings in the future!

*Borrowed from Ryan Howes, 2010

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What I Learned about Relationships by Dancing in a Trapeze

12/15/2014

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Half of my decade as a professional dancer was spent with an aerial dance company. Setting my body into a trapeze and
dancing with other bodies, balancing, catching, holding each others weight, I’ve learned a lot about relationships.
Dancing in a trapeze takes a lot of work. As part of my choreography, I sat, nestled into the trap, sitting on the bar with my back on the rope, eyes closed, rocking to and forth in a performance. To the audience, I exhibited the image of a sleepy “lady in the moon,” who appeared to have not a care in the world. In reality, I was using only my shoulder blade to “grasp” the rope of the trapeze, breathing and balancing my own fear of falling at any part of the swing, with the absolute confidence in my present-moment embodied capability, as I let my hands languish beside me.

I had to trust myself that the strength that I had already cultivated over several years dancing could sustain the movement of my body in the trapeze. I had to also trust that my dance partner, Janet, who was choreographed to climb up into the trap with me, could be aware enough of my body’s placement that she would not send me spiraling toward the ground. I had no choice but to trust or ruin the choreography. Using my feet as steps, She climbed into the trap with me and together we continued the dance in the air. Our awareness of each other was so keen, so respectful and present with each other that I could stretch myself out across the bar, legs extended, with only one hand holding the rope, and she, the tiny, 85 pound dancer could walk out onto my legs like a diving board without a hitch. Our energy and connection could maintain and fulfill not only our audience’s expectations, but also our own, as we performed our daring dance.

Like an emotional relationship, trust is the bottom line of the dance. Without it, one or both partners may go plummeting into a devastating disaster, landing in a pile of pain and confusion at the bottom. How does one trust, you ask? I suggest that it happens the same way that my dancing with Janet did: we practiced.

Practicing trust in a trapeze does not necessarily mean that I could simply place my physical well-being into Janet’s hands and simply “try it out.” Trust in a trapeze meant that I had to first cultivate trust in myself, know my own strength and resources so that I didn’t put too much pressure on her right away, and could ‘catch’ myself if I found that she was not strong enough at the moment, or not quick enough to intuit my movements to save me from a fall. If she missed, I didn’t scream at her or become angry because I was able to catch myself. In doing that, I was also able to give her a bit of leeway to “make mistakes.” By the way- this practice went both ways: I sometimes missed, and although I felt terrible about it, I also trusted that she could take care of herself.

This led to more daring pursuits, like the one I previously described. We didn’t just jump into the trap and she walking on my legs; we had to build to it. The practice took time, patience, mistakes, and sometimes some bruises. Some days we were miraculously attuned to each others’ movements. Some days we didn’t match. With persistence, however, we succeeded, and even surprised ourselves at what we could do. In the end, I know that only our two bodies could achieve the types of dances that we made. This is what made our work together all the more special.

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