From Kentuckiana Health Fitness Magazine, February 2007
Happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own
way.
--Leo
Tolstoy, “Anna Karenina”
There is an expectation among many therapy patients--a
misperception really--that it is a goal of therapy to get the patient to “talk
bad” about one’s parents, or to assign blame to them for one’s problems. Many people are reluctant to acknowledge or
talk about the complicated feelings they may have toward family members because
they feel it is wrong or that it makes them a bad person. Some people are afraid that if they
acknowledge their anger or disappointment toward their parents, that it will
somehow compromise their ability to also love them, or that they will be unable
to maintain a loving relationship with them.
It is not uncommon for patients assume that, if they talk about
“negative” feelings in therapy, that they then will have to confront their
parents with these feelings and have some kind of a show-down, much like the
ones seen on daytime talk shows.
It is a universal truth that our relationships with our
parents are fraught with ambivalence. It
is in the nature of human development to love, resent, be disappointed with,
long for, idealize and despise our parents.
In fact, during the adolescent years, it is common to experience all of
these feelings toward one’s parents in the course of a few hours.
People come into therapy because there is something about
their lives that isn’t working well for them.
No matter what the severity or the particulars, the fundamental aim of
therapy is for the patient’s life to work better, whatever that means for that
particular patient. Psychologists know that people’s lives usually “work” a
certain way because of how we relate to other people. We also know that relational patterns are
almost entirely rooted in the patterns of our family of origin. Intimacy, affection, competitiveness, self-esteem,
attachment, self-concept, identity, occupational choice, sex, choice of mate,
and worldview are just some of the areas in our adult lives that find their
origins in the relationship we had with our parents during infancy and
childhood.
That is why it is imperative to understand the dynamics in
one’s family of origin. It does not mean that one’s family has to be
characterized as dysfunctional. In fact,
I believe in happy families. I also
believe that it is possible to grow up in a happy family with loving,
supportive parents and simultaneously to experience times when one has not felt
truly seen, understood, or heard.
Talking about one’s parents and childhood in therapy is not
about having to identify dysfunction or inadequacies. It is simply about understanding the real
dynamics that existed within the family in order to better understand oneself
and to make changes in our own lives that help us to function better in love,
at work, and with friends. No parents are perfect, and nor does any psychologist
expect them to be. But ignoring the disappointments or frustrations one
experienced growing up does nothing to help one adjust to healthier adult
interactions with others.
As every family is unique, so is every individual’s
experience of their family. Siblings who
grew up in the same household at the same time can have vastly different
experiences of family life. No one’s
“story” is any more accurate than anyone else’s; our experiences are ours
alone. A good therapist wants to hear one’s story, in one’s own words, because
we cannot presume to know a person just because we have an outline of their
history.
I am reminded of the line of dialogue in “Good Will
Hunting,” where Sean the psychologist, played by Robin Williams, has an
exchange with Will, his court-ordered patient, played by Matt Damon. Will has just given Sean a scathing
interpretation of who Sean is based on one of Sean’s paintings. Sean comes back
the next day and addresses the orphan Will’s approach: “You think I know the first thing about how hard
your life's been, how you feel, who you are, because I read Oliver Twist? Does
that encapsulate you? I can't learn anything from you, I can't read in some
[expletive] book. Unless you want to talk about you, who you are. Then I'm
fascinated. I'm in.” Sean’s point is
that we can study all of the texts and literature that we can, but that will
never really give us the story of who someone is. When I am working with a patient, I am
interested in anything and everything that person experiences as a sentient
being. Things that may seem mundane or
small are all very significant to me when I am trying to understand
someone. It is never boring; if someone
really can start talking about what it is like to be them, then I’m
fascinated. I’m in.
The process of
therapy and recounting one’s past is not about parent-bashing, nor is it about
glossing over our family’s shortcomings. With all due respect to Tolstoy, no
family, happy or unhappy, is the same as any other. Whether in the context of
therapy or not, the most fulfilling lives are the ones where we can be
authentic, honest and real with ourselves and those we love. Often, in order to silence the past, we need
to first give it a voice. Sometimes, in order for us to really hear our own
voice, we need to say it out loud to another person. We each must speak our own story, for no one
else can do it for us. And I believe
that to be unheard can be the very worst thing of all.
Kentuckiana Health Fitness Magazine, February 2007