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Ten Tips for Getting the Most Out of Your Therapy*

2/24/2015

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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The Power of Acknowledgement

11/18/2014

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As I embark on the great honor of being the first Guest Editor of the International Body Psychotherapy Journal, I am loudly reminded of the importance of being acknowledged. After receiving a multitude of submissions from authors asking, “Is my work good enough for your journal?” blasts as a parallel process to my own trepidation regarding my own ability to be a judge of their work.

Thankfully, I have been a university professor for five years now and have learned how to read first draft submissions. Many times I have watched a very proud and perhaps, at times, entitled student strut to my desk and thrust a paper toward me with expanded chest with matching smirk, expecting me to thank them for doing the assignment. I graciously accept the paper (so long as it is not late), and sit down on the train or at home to grade it. Sometimes a fabulous assignment is written, but most times, they are full of personal statements and opinions that leave me wondering if they have even read the instructions for the assignment.

After five years, I know that there are no bad papers. Poorly done, sure, but aside from the rubric, each student is giving me the best of what he or she could do at the time. This includes the last minute, hung-over student who couldn’t find a staple to hold the paper together. Each gesture tells me something about the student, and even though I have to give a grade (I take off a point for missing staples), the papers tell me so much about who they are and where they are at in their learning. I give them feedback according to where they are in their academic process.

I once had a student who sent me a 35 page “section” of a 10 page paper. As I began to read, I became more and more confused; the words were misspelled, grammar was atrocious, and the ideas jumped from place to place as if being chased by bees. In addition, the student would suddenly change the format of her paper, start a paragraph from the middle of the page, or insert a poem after half of a sentence. The most shocking was when she would change the color of her text!

After two hours, I arrived at page 3, exhausted. I had to find another way. I sat back, and asked myself, “What is this student trying to tell me?” Instead of continuing to decipher the grammar, (which would have taken me weeks), I realized that this student needed to express herself nonverbally. I asked her about her background, and not surprisingly she was a dancer. I asked her to include a dance in her final project to identify the themes of her research inquiry. Months later, at the end of the semester, she brought a video to my office and we watched it together. I was moved and astounded by the beauty and exquisiteness of her movement. By the end of the dance, I was filled with tears of pride! Writing was not how this student was going to move through the world. Her medium was dance, and in her choreography was the most articulate, profound, and insightful expression that I had ever seen in a student at her academic level.

Seeing each student, each author for who they are, and not needing to judge is part of how I conduct therapy with my clients. It never helps to judge; neither me nor for my client to judge her/himself. Acknowledging each facet of each client is, in itself, a process of healing, despite how my client is self-judging.

Acknowledgement in therapy is practically half the work. Being present with an experience, an emotion or lack thereof, or even something that feels so shameful that it cannot be spoken, is a part of healing. As I acknowledge my clients’ experiences, I help them to acknowledge themselves. This is where the healing begins.

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Ten Tips for Getting the Most Out of Your Therapy*

What I Learned about Relationships by Dancing in a Trapeze

The Power of Acknowledgement

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