Read Online Lying on the Couch by Irvin D. Yalom - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Irvin D. Yalom
Tags: Fiction, General, Psychological, Psychological fiction, Mystery & Detective, Psychotherapists, Therapist and patient
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seemed distant, distrustful. Finally Ernest realized that he must focus not on content but on process —that is, on the relationship between patient and therapist.
Process is the therapist's magic amulet, always effective in times of impasse. It is the therapist's most potent trade secret, the one procedure that makes talking to a therapist materially different and more effective than talking to a close friend. Learning to focus on process—on what was happening between patient and therapist— was the most valuable thing he had gotten from his supervision with Marshal and, in turn, was the most valuable teaching he himself offered when he supervised residents. Gradually, over the years, he had come to understand that process was not only an amulet to be used in times of trouble; it was the very heart of therapy. One of the most useful training exercises Marshal had given him was to focus on process at least three different times during each session,
"Justin," Ernest ventured, "can we take a look at what's happening today between the two of us?"
"What? What do you mean 'what's happening'?"
More resistance. Justin playing dumb. But, Ernest thought, maybe rebellion, even passive rebellion, wasn't a bad thing. He remembered
4 o ' ^ Lying on the Couch
those scores of hours they had worked on Justin's maddening obsequiousness—the sessions spent on Justin's tendency to apologize for everything and to ask for nothing, not even to complain about the morning sun in his eyes or to ask if the blinds could be lowered. Given that background, Ernest knew he should applaud Justin, support him for taking a stand. The task today was to help him convert this back-assed resistance into overt expression.
"I mean, how do you feel about talking to me today? Something's different. Don't you think?"
"What do you feel?" Justin asked.
Whoops, another very un-Justin response. A declaration of independence. Be happy, Ernest thought. Remember Gepetto's glee when Pinocchio first danced without strings^
"Fair enough, Justin. Well, I feel distant, left out, as though something important has happened to you—no, that's not right. Let me put it this way: as though you have made something important happen and you want to keep it separate from me, as though you don't want to be here, as though you want to exclude me."
Justin nodded appreciatively. "That's accurate, Ernest. Real accurate. Yeah, I do feel that. I am staying away from you. I want to hang on to feeling good. I don't want to be brought down."
"And I'll bring you down? I'll try to take it away from you?"
"You've already tried," said Justin, uncharacteristically looking directly into Ernest's eyes.
Ernest raised his eyebrows quizzically.
"Well, isn't that what you were doing when you asked if I were high-spirited all the way down?"
Ernest caught his breath. Whoa! A real challenge from Justin. Maybe he had learned something from therapy after all! Now Ernest played dumb. "What do you mean?"
''Of course I don't feel good all the way down—I've got lots of feelings about leaving Carol and my family forever. Don't you know that? How could you not know? I've just walked away from everything: my home, my Toshiba laptop, my kids, my clothes, my bicycle, my racquetball racquets, my neckties, my Mitsubishi TV, my videotapes, my CD's. You know Carol—she'll give me nothing, she'll destroy everything I own. Owww ..." Justin grimaced, crossed his arms and crouched over as if he had just been slammed in the belly, "That pain's there—I can reach it—you see how close it is. But today, for one day, I wanted to forget, even for a few hours.
Lying on the Couch r"^^ 41
And you didn't want me to. You don't seem even pleased that I finally left Carol."
Ernest was staggered. Had he given away so much? What would Marshal do in this spot? Hell, Marshal wouldn't be in this spot!
"Are you?" Justin repeated.
"Am I what?" Like a stunned boxer, Ernest clenched his opponent while his head
Process is the therapist's magic amulet, always effective in times of impasse. It is the therapist's most potent trade secret, the one procedure that makes talking to a therapist materially different and more effective than talking to a close friend. Learning to focus on process—on what was happening between patient and therapist— was the most valuable thing he had gotten from his supervision with Marshal and, in turn, was the most valuable teaching he himself offered when he supervised residents. Gradually, over the years, he had come to understand that process was not only an amulet to be used in times of trouble; it was the very heart of therapy. One of the most useful training exercises Marshal had given him was to focus on process at least three different times during each session,
"Justin," Ernest ventured, "can we take a look at what's happening today between the two of us?"
"What? What do you mean 'what's happening'?"
More resistance. Justin playing dumb. But, Ernest thought, maybe rebellion, even passive rebellion, wasn't a bad thing. He remembered
4 o ' ^ Lying on the Couch
those scores of hours they had worked on Justin's maddening obsequiousness—the sessions spent on Justin's tendency to apologize for everything and to ask for nothing, not even to complain about the morning sun in his eyes or to ask if the blinds could be lowered. Given that background, Ernest knew he should applaud Justin, support him for taking a stand. The task today was to help him convert this back-assed resistance into overt expression.
"I mean, how do you feel about talking to me today? Something's different. Don't you think?"
"What do you feel?" Justin asked.
Whoops, another very un-Justin response. A declaration of independence. Be happy, Ernest thought. Remember Gepetto's glee when Pinocchio first danced without strings^
"Fair enough, Justin. Well, I feel distant, left out, as though something important has happened to you—no, that's not right. Let me put it this way: as though you have made something important happen and you want to keep it separate from me, as though you don't want to be here, as though you want to exclude me."
Justin nodded appreciatively. "That's accurate, Ernest. Real accurate. Yeah, I do feel that. I am staying away from you. I want to hang on to feeling good. I don't want to be brought down."
"And I'll bring you down? I'll try to take it away from you?"
"You've already tried," said Justin, uncharacteristically looking directly into Ernest's eyes.
Ernest raised his eyebrows quizzically.
"Well, isn't that what you were doing when you asked if I were high-spirited all the way down?"
Ernest caught his breath. Whoa! A real challenge from Justin. Maybe he had learned something from therapy after all! Now Ernest played dumb. "What do you mean?"
''Of course I don't feel good all the way down—I've got lots of feelings about leaving Carol and my family forever. Don't you know that? How could you not know? I've just walked away from everything: my home, my Toshiba laptop, my kids, my clothes, my bicycle, my racquetball racquets, my neckties, my Mitsubishi TV, my videotapes, my CD's. You know Carol—she'll give me nothing, she'll destroy everything I own. Owww ..." Justin grimaced, crossed his arms and crouched over as if he had just been slammed in the belly, "That pain's there—I can reach it—you see how close it is. But today, for one day, I wanted to forget, even for a few hours.
Lying on the Couch r"^^ 41
And you didn't want me to. You don't seem even pleased that I finally left Carol."
Ernest was staggered. Had he given away so much? What would Marshal do in this spot? Hell, Marshal wouldn't be in this spot!
"Are you?" Justin repeated.
"Am I what?" Like a stunned boxer, Ernest clenched his opponent while his head
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