My Bachelors’ Degree in Piano and Violin Performance looked like a mirage in
the desert that had just disappeared when my son was born in 1979. I woke up the
following morning knowing that making my livelihood as a freelance musician was
not going to work. The reality of motherhood and the likelihood of my needing
to single parent changed the direction of my life.
Mr.
Sparks, the kind and pragmatic career counselor, identified from his batteries
of tests, 2 paths for me to pursue: interior design and counseling. I laughed
when he told me the results because to me they mirrored each other: in interior
design you changed the outside to reflect some inner impression or fancy, and
in counseling inner shifts make room for a more harmonious outer life. Possibly
the most valuable tool I learned from Mr. Sparks was how to network. As I
interviewed interior designers and counselors of all kinds, my process began to
unfold and led me directly into counseling.
For
the next challengingly ambitious 7 years there was a flurry of classes,
individual therapy, dream group therapy, trainings, workshops and finally a
culmination of all my work into a Masters Degree in Transpersonal Counseling
and Creative Arts Therapy and a Ph.D. in Women’s Psychology.
Over the years my counseling became a therapeutic spiritual practice, which empowered clients to be where they were and helped me nurture my resourcefulness as a listener and witness. I became increasingly passionate about and dedicated to my work. Even the challenging aspects fascinated me.
There was one dynamic that kept reoccurring—especially in groups—that
seemed to be a fundamental central healing key: recreating the past in the
present. There was something about bringing together a group of people for the
purpose of healing that collectively created a kind of hologram in which new
experiences shed light on old problems. This dynamic made me aware of how each
person was integral to the healing process of the group. I welcomed this
dynamic because I knew when it showed up, something important was ready to heal
for everyone in the group.
The story I want to share happened about 20 years into my work as a
therapist. For many years I facilitated two weekly therapy groups called
“Women’s Dream Weaving Circles”. This particular incident occurred in the first
group I started in Rochester, NY, that had been meeting with the same 6 people
for about 2 years. The group had become cohesive with a high level of sharing
and trust.
I began each group with a guided meditation as we sat in a circle on the
floor. One day in our
brief check-ins that followed the meditation, an older woman in the group
casually mentioned she had been sexually abused as a child. She told this
flippantly and then laughed as if it was a funny joke. Each of the other women had
a powerful reaction to this. They rejected her by pulling away energetically as well as from the other
women. I knew this was our 1st group hologram and that I had a challenging session
ahead of me.
With everyone unhinged and wanting to leave, I focused initially on the distressed
group members. After some discussion they gradually opened up a bit. “Her
sharing felt like a betrayal.” “Why had she shared this information in a way
that was so disrespectful?” “Why hadn’t
she shared it before?” “The way she told it felt “belittling” of the situation.”
“Had her presentation been an attempt to downplay feelings?” “The laugh felt
inappropriate.” “It’s hard to take her story seriously if she doesn’t.” I
glanced around at the body language--crossed arms and bodies turned away from
the circle.
I knew we were wading deeply into deep unconscious waters and were in vulnerable
territory. The stakes are always high when one of these holograms is created. The
fracture that occurs can be the end of the group or catapult you into an entire
level. I was keeping track of what was happening and trying hard to contain the
energy and keep it moving in a positive direction.
I gave the group members the job of holding the energy of the Circle
while I worked with the “presenting” woman. They seemed to like having a job
outside of themselves and all those feelings. I asked the woman if she was willing
to work on her experience of what had happened. She readily agreed.
From what had been acted out within the group, I pictured her in the
hologram as a little girl, looking to those around her for help to stop the abuse.
No one took her seriously and they rejected her for bringing it up. Now, she
had formed this new group—where her relating was the same as with her original family—trying
to flippantly get attention with the hope that now, someone would believe and be
there for her.
The group had also been triggered into the hologram. Feelings of familiar
past experiences of not being supported, believed or respected made up that picture
for all of us. Working with these holograms is complicated and because of the
2-hour session, quick thinking, tremendous energy, vast creativity and a bit of
magic is required to guide everyone safely back to shore.
As I begin gently working with the woman, it doesn’t take long for
lashing anger to come to the surface. Her anger is forceful, but feels like a
temper-tantrum coming from a little girl—out of control and misdirected toward
the group and especially me. It is not difficult to feel that the anger has
nothing to do with us. Still, I can sense everyone’s anxiety escalating as the
woman rages.
The 2 hours is almost up and I am running out of time. I am watching the
clock along with everyone else—every minute bringing us closer to getting out
of there. Everything is breaking down now and it feels like an insurmountable
mess. As the intensity increases I find myself wavering, struggling to keep control
of the group.
I try reminding myself I have worked with these situations before. I trust
my natural abilities and experience and know that what is happening might lead
us to a healing breakthrough. Using all the skills I’ve developed over the
years and banking on my intuition that has never let me down, I ask the group
members if it would be possible for them to send healing energy to the woman from
their hearts if she sat silently in the middle of the circle. I ask the woman
if she would do this. Everyone is reluctant, but agrees.
When she gets into the center, the woman begins to cry. She had trusted the
group members to be there for her and they had responded the same as her family
had in her original wounding--rejecting her because of the way she shared her
deepest, darkest secret. I suggest that the group members hold hands to ground
us and attempt to feel some solidarity. Suddenly I feel disoriented. I
experience disconnect between my mind and my body. Weariness is overtaking
me—like I can’t endure holding things together another minute.
Just then, I catch a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye. My little
Tibetan Spaniel therapy dog, Johnnie, is running at breakneck speed into my
office through the open double pocket doors. He jumps over the connected hands forming
the circle of group members and lands in the lap of the woman. In that instant
the tension breaks. There are tears of relief. I take a deep grateful breath.
Johnnie has given us exactly what we needed--an unexpected jolt into the present. He has brought us back from the flooding of our collective feelings as children and refocused us on the healing we are creating in the present. It feels like we have just been stopped from tumbling over a dangerous precipice.
Johnnie has given us exactly what we needed--an unexpected jolt into the present. He has brought us back from the flooding of our collective feelings as children and refocused us on the healing we are creating in the present. It feels like we have just been stopped from tumbling over a dangerous precipice.
After that awful, amazing, nightmarish, enlightening session, we had
gained strength and made such transformative progress that we continued
together as a group for five more years.
