Running with Scissors

There is something truly manipulative about being a therapist. Something related I think to our knowledge of how systems work and our dexterity with language. Talking in itself is a form of negotiation/manipulation. Between two people a conversation is a battle: to be heard, to be acknowledged, to be understood. There is an aspect of what we do that is dangerous. An vulnerable even hazardous emotional space our clients inhabit as they share with us what no one else would know, could know, should know.

What we ask them to do every week in the therapy room is to "heal" themselves, through talking. We are I believe hoping to guide them along a path of self reflection, and to force them to examine connections in their lives - some obvious, others not quite so - to see ways in which their experiences are contributed to, by them, and the others - many others - they live with in the world. We have theories about how and why we do this - right and wrong ways, philosophies about what is helpful and what is not. Yet when I am in the room with clients, and they are sad or angry or jubilant I often feel imposing. In spite of my best effort to maintain the stance - "I am a client-focused and directed therapist" - in spite of the notion that their goals/aspirations/hopes are what guide the process - it is shaky ground I travel.

What do we know to be true universally about the safest way to provide the care we give? How are we certain of the strength - emotional strength - or our clients? When would be know that therapy is doing more harm than good? I don't have full answers to these questions. I think perhaps that we are - I am - often running with scissors.