Have you ever gone to a new therapist and been asked, "so what brought you here," only to have your mind go blank? What makes this happen? Is it that we get intimidated by this question or is it something deeper? The week, in our ongoing series, Plain Talk about Talk Therapy, we'll explore whether "issues" even exist. Do they? Let's find out.

Consulting the OED
Consulting the OED? What the heck is the "OED?"

The OED is the word lover's nickname for the world's largest dictionary of English. The Oxford English Dictionary. Currently it's in its second edition. Twenty thick blue original volumes plus three somewhat meager 300 plus page additions. The cost? Leather bound and discounted. $6000. Or in the economical hard cover version. About $1500. For a dictionary. Imagine!

So what does my old friend the OED have to say about the word, "issues?"

Start with that what it says takes up a whole lot of space on some very big pages. Which means what? Which means the word "issues" has a whole lot of meanings. No surprise here. What is interesting though is that if you digress through the word's etymology (it's life-as-a-word history), you eventually arrive at a single Latin word. The word, "exire." Which in English, roughly means "to go out."

"To go out?" What the heck does "to go out" have to do with the issues people work on in therapy? Moreover, is this what therapists mean when they ask, "so what brought you here?"

Actually. Yes. This is exactly what they mean. Albeit, most therapists would probably not recognize this phrase as the true meaning of the word, "issues." Unless, of course, they took the time to consult the OED.

Have I lost you? Sorry. It's just that, similar to how I love to explore the lives of people, I love to explore the lives of words. The back to the beginning, seminal, often mysterious original meanings. For me, these meanings explain a whole lot about the people who made up these words; their lives and times. They also explain what these words could and should mean to us here in the present. Their true meanings. What they meant before we digressed them through a world class version of the game, "telephone."

What then does the phrase "to go out" have to do with your issues? And why am I making such a big deal out of this phrase?

The truth? (Big breath now.) Because there are no "issues." Issues simply do not exist. At least, not as something we can actually heal. Which means what exactly? Which means that when a therapist asks you to tell her your issues, she is asking you to do something which, at first, may make you feel better, but in the long run, will make you feel worse.

Worse? Are you kidding? How does this happen?

First the feel better part. When you name an issue, you feel better. Temporarily anyway. Why? Because you now have a name for the thing that has been hurting you. A name which the therapist has knowledge of.

This then leads you to have hope. After all, if she's seen this before and she's still in business, she must have some way to make this problem go away. Or at least, some way in which to make it better.

Unfortunately, the real reason these names make people feel better is that they depersonalize peoples' suffering. Translation. Technical words distance us from our pain. In effect, we get to be educated watchers of our suffering as opposed to being suffering sufferers of our suffering.

So yes, when we name an issue, we do feel better. At least, at first. However, because these words lead us away from the source of our suffering, they actually decrease our chances of feeling better. How? By masking the real problem with depersonalized words like, "issues."

Confused? If so, before you toss me off and leap shrug faced from your reading chair, please allow me a moment to state my case.

Issues. Let's take a real one. An issue people once discussed a whole lot more. The issue? "Codependency." Arrrgh, what a mouthful of mealy mouthed mush this word is. So does "codependency" actually exist? Not really. And to see this for yourself, watch this. Watch how a typical issue like codependency could and should evaporate from the therapy.

Talk Therapy at Level One : I have always had issues with men who drink, but at least now I know I am a co-dependent.

This is the place at which a decent talk therapy begins. At a vague generalization for the person's suffering. What makes it so vague? For one thing the length of time the client references. I have always had? Really. You have always had. Still, this always is often a good place to begin the therapy nonetheless.

Talk Therapy at Level Two: Even when I was a little girl, I always felt like I was the one who had to protect everyone from my father's alcoholism.

This is the place a decent talk therapy would then progress to. Eventually. Over time. Carefully and respectfully. Arriving here might even be called an "insight," although what is being referenced here does not reach very deeply into the person's mind. Or heart. Moreover, true insights amaze the person. Level Two "insights" simply amaze the therapist.

Talk Therapy at Level Three: When I was very small I used to get scared a lot on Sundays, when my father would drink and get angry and I would have to run to my room.

This is the place to which good talk therapists bring their clients whenever their clients ask for more.

What makes clients ask for more? Perhaps the therapy is stalled. Not moving. Perhaps the therapist is bored. Or boring. Perhaps the therapist recently grew as a person, meaning, she now has more to give. Perhaps a painful world event just shook up both the therapist and client and life has once again become precious.

Whatever the case, going to Level Three in talk therapy is always a good thing.

Talk Therapy at Level Four: I can see a scene at the Sunday dinner table where my father was drunk and he was beating my mother.

This is the place a really good talk therapy gets to when the therapist finds the courage to provoke the client's pain. Admittedly, this provoking thing is hard to do, especially since doing it causes open hearted therapists to suffer along with their clients. Not exactly what the cold head-with-feet therapy schools tell therapists they should be doing. Nor what the heart-on-wheels therapy schools want clients to experience. Nonetheless, this place is where the real healing begins. And yes. I said, "begins."

Talk Therapy at Level Five: I can see my fathers' eyes staring right through me and I can hear him saying, if you don't stop crying I'll beat you too.

Here the therapist has the client right on the verge of a healing moment. Right on the verge? You mean this is not a healing moment? Actually, no. It's not. However, the therapist does have the client right on the verge of a real healing moment though. Mere seconds away, in fact. Which means, if you, as the therapist, know what to do next, your client will heal this wound. If not, then you'll stop here and your client will miss healing by an instant.

What a shame. And it's so unnecessary really. Especially since it's so easy for therapists (and clients) to learn what to do in these moments. Including how to know you are at this point and how to go past it.

What would a healing moment look like then? Before we go there, I'd like to ask you to try something first. See if you can picture these five statements in succession from one to five. Not just mentally, mind you. But visually. In your mind.

Can you do it? Can you picture someone telling you these five statements in succession, including what they look like through the client's eyes?

• I have always had issues with men who drink, but at least now I know I am a co-dependent.
  
• Even when I was a little girl, I always felt like I was the one who had to protect everyone from my father's alcoholism.
  
• When I was very small I used to get scared a lot on Sundays, when my father would drink and get angry and I would have to run to my room.
  
• I can see a scene at the Sunday dinner table where my father was drunk and he was beating my mother.
• I can see my fathers' eyes staring right through me and I can hear him saying, if you don't stop crying I'll beat you too.

As you pictured these five scenes then, did you notice how the therapy became more and more focused as you moved through the levels from the "issue" to the wounding scene? Did you also notice how quickly the "issue" disappeared? And did you also notice you increasingly became able to visualize this woman's life as you progressed from Level One to Level Five. As well as becoming more able to feel her suffering right along with her?

Why have I asked you to picture all this? Because talk therapy happens only when new pictures emerge in the mind. New logic is never enough. Moreover, this idea; that visualization is the only route to genuine healing will be one of the main themes we'll explore in the coming weeks.

For now, know that simply visualizing these five statements in sequence has the power to awaken in you one of the core skills necessary for a truly powerful talk therapy; knowing where the wound exists. Moreover, because these kinds of personally meaningful experiences have the power to expand your mind, once learned, this knowledge is permanent.

Would you like to know, with confidence, where wounds exist? If so, then know the first step toward learning this skill is to see how issues differ from wounds.

As for what healing looks like, we're getting to it. I promise. Before we do though, we need to first take a deeper look at how these five statements moved from the issue to the wounding scene.

[Please note, to read the rest of this article, you'll have to click the article title below. Why? For one thing, I frequently revise these articles. For another, because these articles can be a bit long for a blog entry. Plain Talk about Talk Therapy - Week Two. ]

Is your therapist a "good" therapist? How do you know? Is it that you always feel better after seeing her? Is it that he makes you feel safe and secure? The week, in our ongoing series, Plain Talk about Talk Therapy, we're going to explore how to know if your therapist is the right therapist for you. Or the wrong therapist. Do you think you know how to tell already? Let's find out.

Week Three - March 12
Is Your Therapist a Good Therapist?
One of the earliest pieces of advice I got as a therapist was, if all the therapists on staff were arguing as to whether a particular client was getting better or not, then the client was probably a borderline (a severely disordered person). Oddly, no one ever offered me advice as to how to tell if a therapist was sane or not. Or even effective. Perhaps this is why it has taken me so long to formulate my own way of knowing whether a therapist is good or not. Even now, there is much for which I have yet to find the words.

Disclaimers aside, let's begin this week by exploring a few of my personal guidelines. Know they apply mostly to therapists who work with normal folks (as opposed to those who work with severely disordered folks).

So what makes "good therapists" good?

• Good therapists sit at the same level as their clients. Poor therapists sit above them.
• Good therapists take up space in the room. Poor therapists take up no space. Or all the space.
  
• Good therapists cry with their clients. Poor therapists cry for their clients.
  
• Good therapists respect the needs of both people. Poor therapists have no needs.
• Good therapists reveal their faults and make mistakes. Poor therapists hide or deny them.
• Good therapists risk fights in the service of healing. Poor therapists don't, can't, or won't risk a fight.
• Good therapists are always growing, both professionally and personally. Poor therapists haven't self discovered in years.

In a moment, we'll explore these seven guidelines, one at a time. Before we do though, I need to preface our discussion with a few basics from Emergence Personality Theory. Two, in fact.

The first, pictured in the diagram above, is the event from which all of personality stems. It is also the single experience we humans have in common regardless of culture and ethnicity; the Birth Separation Moment.

The second is the first aspect of personality wherein we begin to differentiate from each other. The yin and yang of all human relationships. The give and take of personality; the Four Character Types.

Let's start with the Birth Separation Moment.

Emergence Personality Theory sees personality as comprised of a nested set, and subsets, of fractals. A nested set of recognizable patterns which always repeat differently. Moreover, the theory describes these nested fractals as organizing around a single strange attractor; the sequence of three events we experience in the moment in which we physically separate from our mothers.

I call this event, the Birth Separation Moment. Not that what happens prior this event has no affect on personality. It's just that before this moment, everything we experience, we experience with someone. Not as two separate beings but rather as two beings that are one being. In the most intimate human relationship we will ever know.

Literally then, before birth we live in a kind of experiential Garden of Eden. In a marriage of soul mates. In a suspended state of seemingly permanent togetherness. In this state, we face whatever life throws at us with an ever present partner in an ideal kind of intimacy. Connection at its finest. At least for us humans.

Am I being too philosophical? Sorry. What I'm saying here is, before we physically separate from our mothers, we live life as an ongoing "co experience." As if we are joined to another at the psycho spiritual hip, so to speak. In effect, it is as if we were conceived married. Can you imagine? We physically occupied the same space and time as another human being with not a single moment of having to face our needs alone. Not a one.

Hungry? We ate the same food.

Tired? We slept the same sleep.

Cold or hot? We shared the same blanket. And felt the same sounds. And suffered the same illnesses.

My point? Before we experienced the Birth Separation Moment, we had yet to know what it was like to face a need alone. Not even for a single moment. Not even for the blink of an eye.

Then it happened. With no forewarning (at least none baby humans could possibly grasp), we were forcibly expelled from this Eden-like state of perpetual togetherness. Within seconds then, and for the first time, we had to face life alone. With no instructions and no time outs. Needy. Scared. Blind. And hungry.

Underlying this event is the simple sequence of three experiential states from which all human personality forms. This sequence roughly comprises our three most personal human experiences; [1] the experience of connection (to others and to our world), [2] the experience of aloneness (the experience of disconnecting from these connections), and [3] the experience of need (our natural response to these disconnections).

What makes this sequence so significant is that it then becomes the experiential pattern for any and all events which injure us, regardless of the nature of the symptoms; connection, disconnection, and neediness.

In a very real way then, we could say that all human injury, including everything we explore in talk therapy, is a reliving of this Birth Separation Moment fractal pattern; connection, disconnection, and neediness. Admittedly, there's a lot to discuss here. Including why the nesting numbers begin with ten and not one. Know we'll talk a lot more about this fractal sequence in coming chapters. Including why it injures us and how it reveals the pattern beneath all healing events.

As for Character Types, the second of these two sets of fractal patterns, they are the four possible strategies with which we try to satisfying needs. Ours and everyone else's. These four strategies are; [1] facing neediness as a Me (I only see my needs; you need to meet my needs), [2] facing neediness as a You (I only see your needs; I need to give to you), [3] facing neediness as a Me then You (at first, I only see my needs and then I only see your needs), and [4] facing neediness as a You then Me (at first, I only see your needs and then I only see my needs).

Know we are all born with strategy One as our default way of facing neediness. We all cry out, "what about me!" whenever we feel needy. By age four though, nature divides us into four separate groups, each of us having been assigned one of these four strategies as our default way of responding to feeling needy.

Where do these four patterns play out in our lives? Mostly, within our relationships. However, because we humans are social creatures, they also affect pretty much every else we do as well, from whom we seek help from and or blame for our suffering to whom we fall in love with and or pick to be our friends.

Here again, we'll take a more in depth look at these four strategies in future chapters. For now, it is only important to know that these two fractal patterns comprise the two most basic aspects of human personality. The first is our common heritage; the Birth Separation Moment. The second is our most basic difference; the Four Character Types.

Moreover, because all human beings, including all clients in talk therapy and certainly all talk therapists, have personalities based on these two fractal patterns, the heart and soul of doing therapy lies in learning to recognize these patterns. Moreover, to deny this common heritage of vulnerability is to deny our very humanity.

Sadly, many talk therapies expect therapists to do this very thing; to deny and even hide these aspects of themselves. Certainly their neediness. And often, their wounds. In fact, most talk therapists are expected to act as if they have, by virtue of their educations and training, risen above these human frailties.

No therapist is exempt from these vulnerabilities of the human condition. Nor is it healthy to even attempt to deny or rise above these parts of natures. Unfortunately, much of bad talk therapy focuses on teaching people how to ignore, or at least, work around these human frailties. Conversely, honestly acknowledging these aspects of ourselves is the basis of all good therapy, regardless of technique.

With this in mind, let us now explore my seven guidelines. Remember, these guidelines are only a starting point.

[Please note, to read the rest of this article, you'll have to click the article title below. Why? For one thing, I frequently revise these articles. For another, because these articles can be a bit long for a blog entry. Plain Talk about Talk Therapy - Week Three. ]

Have you ever apologized to a therapist for walking in with nothing to talk about? Has a therapist ever told you this can lead to the best sessions? The week, in our ongoing series, Plain Talk about Talk Therapy, we'll explore how walking in with things to say in therapy can impair your progress. Conversely, how walking in with nothing to say can lead to profound insights. If you know what to do with this state of mind. Do you know? Let's see.

Arriving With Nothing to Talk About
I once had a therapist ask me if I would be willing to do less in therapy. In effect, she was asking me to let her do more of the work. What made her ask? She never said directly. I came to realize though that she was referring to the fact that I came in every week "well prepared" for therapy. Translation. I arrived each week with an agenda. An already chosen plan for what we'd talk about. My response to her? "You're right. I don't want to waste my sessions." So what's the big deal. A lot of people do this. Is this really such a bad thing anyway?

The big deal is, without realizing it, I was limiting what we spoke about to predigested life events. Stories I either already understood or felt on my way to understanding. This meant I pretty much always arrived with the session content already in progress. Before we even spoke word one.

Was this such a bad thing though? Yes, in fact, it was. Why? In essence, it meant I never had to expose too much of myself. At least none of what I had yet to prepare answers for. I also got to avoid facing all of the more shameful material in me. The stuff I felt no one could help me with. Or accept about me. Along with the stuff I was yet to feel ready to see in myself. And feared I might never be ready to see.

The point is, by always arriving with things to talk about, I never had to face a lot of things in myself. Of course, at the time, I did not realize this. Quite the opposite, in fact. I even remember thinking that my having things to work on made me a good client for her. Not too boring nor too difficult to work with and at the same time, willing to self examine. The thing is, by arriving with my sessions already under way, in actuality, I was being a terrible client. Well maybe not terrible. But certainly misdirected. And definitely well defended.

Now the kicker. Years later, while thinking back on all the therapists I'd ever worked with, I remembered this woman. And while I recall her as being a warm, kind, and supportive woman, she was not a very dynamic therapist. Certainly no where near up to the task of getting a "too smart for his own good" man like me to open up. So what was I really hiding? The fact that I did not believe she could help me.

What am I saying? I am saying that while being kind and supportive has it's place in therapy, a therapist also needs the courage to speak up. The courage to ask downright ballsy questions, in fact. Why? Because the best therapists face this discomfort by asking risking questions. Unfortunately, this question about my arriving at therapy "too well prepared" was about the only risky question this therapist ever asked me in my entire four years with her.

My point? For four years, I treaded water. And she helped. And while I certainly gained a few insights during that four years, I also managed to avoid most of what was really troubling me. Not the least of which was my unconscious need to take care of a therapist whom I feared was not up to the task. Ergo my arriving with predigested session material; a mother bird client feeding a baby bird therapist, if you will.

In other words, her question to me that day was probably the best piece of therapy she did with me. It certainly was my stuck point in therapy for that whole four years. Moreover, because she never could help me to see my way past it, inadvertently, I felt compelled to take care of her for whole four years. Why? Because I could not face the fact that my therapist, a woman whom I was really fond of, was not able to get me to do the real work.

Know this happened years before I became a therapist. Not that this would have helped. You see, not once during my years of training was I ever taught to watch for this. Whatever the case, in the end, we both lost, albeit, I am still grateful to her for her kindness and non judgment. In these areas, she was an excellent therapist.

Why mention all this? Because twenty plus years later, this skill; knowing when a client is trying to take care of me, has become one of my more valued skills. This and telling people I like it when they come in with nothing to talk about. Which, whenever this happens, always reminds me of how I used to come into therapy in just the opposite state; with too much to talk about. All so that I would not hurt my therapist's feelings by exposing her inabilities as a therapist.

Obviously, for me to be mentioning this, I must have, at some point, healed this wound. The proof? I now love the very thing I once felt compelled to avoid; having nothing to talk about in therapy. Perhaps this is why, whenever someone comes in apologizing for having nothing to talk about, I fondly remark, I always find these sessions are the best. And they are.

What makes these sessions the best? As my father used to say, "they've got potential." And they do. Especially if you know how to ask ballsy questions. As well as where to find these questions, something I call, the 12 Block Markers. The twelve categories of risk taking healing questions.

What are "Block Markers?" And how do they help people heal? Let's look.

[Please note, to read the rest of this article, you'll have to click the article title below. Why? For one thing, I frequently revise these articles. For another, because these articles can be a bit long for a blog entry. Plain Talk about Talk Therapy - Week Four. ]

I often hear confessions in first sessions. A common one is, "I'll probably be here a long time. I'm really that screwed up." Sadly, this reveals a lot about human nature, including how many of us feel about having problems. This then begs the question, so if people feel ashamed for having problems, and if therapists are people, then why go to a therapist? Won't the therapist's shame get in the way of our work? This week, in Plain Talk about Talk Therapy, we're going to look at the shame we feel for still having problems. We're also going look at why even the most dedicated and spiritual of people can never heal all their wounds. Do you know why? Let's find out.

Longing to Be Done With Therapy
Has a therapist ever told you that wanting to be done with therapy is healthy. Or that despite this wish, no one ever truly finishes. And yes, we may at times outgrow a therapist and be done working with this person. We may and probably should also take breaks from therapy at times. But no one is ever "done" working on themselves. Including therapists. In fact, if a therapist ever tells you he or she is done, run don't walk to the nearest exit. And don't look back. Therapists who think they are done have little to offer other than to encourage us to avoid feeling bad for not being done.

No one is ever done. Not even therapists. So how is it some therapists act this way? In a word, "shame." We'll talk more about this in a moment. Before we do, know that even the best of therapists behave like this a times. When? Whenever they make the focus of therapy symptom reduction rather than self exploration. This said, my point here is, looking like you have no problems is not an especially good way to conduct therapy. Moreover, the clients of therapists who act this way tend to feel really uneasy and ashamed. Especially those honest enough to say things like, "I'll probably be here a long time. I'm really that screwed up."

So if all therapists have unfinished business, why go to them? What if they turn out to have worse problems than you do?

First of all, as far as I'm concerned, the worst problem a person can have is to think he is done healing his wounds. We humans make progress, not perfection. Which is why, I guess, that some pretty spiritual folks tell us we are human beings "becoming."

If therapists have problems though, why go to them? For one thing, because if your therapist can openly admit how it feels to be still working on herself, then she has a lot to teach you. Certainly about how not to let feeling discouraged make you quit. And especially about how to deal with the shame we all feel for not being done.

Then too there is the idea that no one heals without being connected to another. We simply cannot heal our wounds alone. Unfortunately, it's hard as hell to connect to a therapist who acts like she's done healing. Why? Because connecting to another requires we feel a commonality; a shared human likeness; a personal equality. And because the thing which satisfies these requirements best is sharing our faults with each other. Period.

Therapists who act like they are done healing offer us no place to connect to them. Nor do they offer us a model for what it's like to still be healing, let alone what it should look like to be still healing after many years.

Know that most therapists are not this closed, albeit I've been to a few who were. Moreover, the few who are tend to attract folks who make being done more important then being real. And yes, I once was this screwed up as to believe I could some day be done. That's why I went to those folks.

Fortunately, recognizing the good therapists is easy enough. Good therapists will be real right in front of you. How? They'll admit their mistakes to you. And their flaws. Including both the logical parts and the messy stuff, like the tears and the anger and frustration.

Good therapists also tend to admire peoples' work, openly and honestly. Including their own. This open acknowledgment, in fact, is one of the main things good therapists have to offer their clients. This and their willingness to admit to their clients how painful it can be to still be doing this work.

Speaking of connecting, know that when I say connect to, I'm not merely talking about being fond of your therapist as in, "we really click, you know." Rather, I'm referring to something which more resembles two people having a conversation on clear cell phones. You know. The kind of conversations wherein both people talk and both people listen. Honestly and without judgment. So much so, in fact, that you both find yourselves remarking on just how good the conversation is. And yes. I know. My saying this may sound to some like "my kind of therapists" take up too much space. They don't. It's just that in order to heal, you must connect. Not just therapist-to-client, but also person to person. Being to being, and heart to heart. This requires both people take up equal space in the room. Why? Because there simply must be enough of the therapist-as-flawed-human visible for the client to connect to.

How can a therapist do this though and still do therapy? Shouldn't the focus be on the client's healing?

Yes, it should be. However, if two people are both working on themselves and if they both keep in mind their roles, then both can grow and gain from the client's healing simultaneously. And yes, the client should never be the therapist's therapist. But this means only that the content of what the therapist brings up should always be connected and lead to possible healing in the client. Which in essence means only that both people take up equal space within the same agreed upon focus; the client's healing.

Said in simpler terms, good therapists know how to use their own work to inspire good work in their clients. Thus while in one sense the client's healing should always be the main focus, good therapists know how to make their healing the route to their client's healing. How? By sharing the stage as equally courageous but flawed human beings while at the same time never forgetting their role as guide to a self explorer.

All this said, my point is, we all long to be done working on ourselves at times. Clients and therapists alike. Moreover, despite this longing, we never do finish. None of us. Not a one.

Now let's look at why.

[Please note, to read the rest of this article, you'll have to click the article title below. Why? For one thing, I frequently revise these articles. For another, because these articles can be a bit long for a blog entry. Plain Talk about Talk Therapy - Week Five. ]