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by
Carl Sherman |
Book Description
How do you choose among
hundreds of available therapies-offered by
psychiatrists, psychologists, social workers, and counselors-to help you conquer
painful feelings, unbearable anxiety, dysfunctional relationships, or
out-of-control behavior? What are the sessions like? How will you know if your
therapy is working and when it is time to stop? Veteran medical journalist Carl
Sherman gives you the tools to make smart decisions about getting professional
help.
Excerpt
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Chapter 1
Things aren't going well. You leave for work with a sense of dread and come home
half-dead with fatigue. You fight incessantly with those you love-or can't find
anyone to love. The toll of smoking or excessive drinking is obvious, even to
you, but you keep on doing it.
Maybe something happened to knock you off balance. You lost your job a month
ago, and now it's hard to get up and get dressed. A friend is terminally ill,
and you can't put thoughts of him out of your mind. Since that emergency landing
at O'Hare, every business trip gives you nightmares.
Or there's nothing really wrong, nothing you can put a finger on. But one day
you realize that you've been struggling through the motions in a miasma of
low-level discomfort and dissatisfaction. Whatever you do doesn't seem like the
right thing, and none of it gives much pleasure.
What are you going to do? There's no shortage of books to tell you how to heal
whatever ails you, no lack of talk-show gurus with wise advice on everything
from beating the blues to finding lasting love or the job of your dreams. Maybe
you've assembled your own little arsenal of strategies that help when the
burdens get heavy and the skies refuse to brighten: taking a long, strenuous
walk, a hot bath, a vacation. Volunteering at a soup kitchen. Cultivating your
garden.
Friends and family are an age-old source of solace in times of trouble. Human
beings are essentially social creatures; we need each other, and a sympathetic
ear, an encouraging word can work wonders. It's been shown that simply having a
confidant-someone you can trust to listen and care-reduces stress, eases
anxiety, and lifts mood.
But sometimes the usual fixes just don't work; you know you've got a problem,
and it's not about to go away. And the question comes up, moves up rapidly from
the back of your mind (or perhaps it's suggested-diplomatically or otherwise-by
a friend or loved one): should you go for therapy?
What Is Psychotherapy?
We all know what therapy is-until we try to pin it down, and realize how many
very different things have come to carry the label. "Therapy" can last six weeks
or six years. It may involve two people-you and the therapist-or your whole
family, or even a group of strangers. You may talk about today's crisis or last
night's dreams, or events you can scarcely remember. You may be encouraged to
keep a diary of your thoughts, or to free-associate. To pound pillows or to take
pills.
What do they all have in common? No matter what particular form therapy takes,
the essence is an ongoing relationship. Researchers who seek to find what makes
therapy successful return again and again to that central fact: whatever else
happens, the closeness and trust between patient and therapist-what is called
the "therapeutic alliance"-is a key factor. It even appears to be important when
medication is the main treatment.
Therapy is a unique type of relationship, and what makes it valuable is what
sets it apart from friendships, working partnerships, family connections, and
love affairs. Its purpose is well defined: understanding and change. It comes
into being, that is, to help you identify and understand dysfunctional ways of
thinking, feeling, and acting, and to generate more productive and satisfying
ways of thinking, feeling, and acting.
Friends and family members want to help us when we're in distress, and the
advice they offer (with or without solicitation) can be useful. But the kind of
counsel you'll get from a therapist is different. Rather than being simply
instructive ("Here's what you ought to do"), it's likely intended to be a
catalyst, to quicken your own ability to work things out.
Perhaps the most essential difference between therapy and other significant
relationships is a matter of balance. You and the therapist are collaborating on
a single project: helping you deal with your problems and achieve the changes
you want. There is no other agenda.
This makes it very different from even close, supportive friendships in which
you pour out your troubles and get a sympathetic ear and even useful feedback.
Eventually, your friend will get bored, or tired, or simply need to talk
herself. The essence of friendship is mutuality: you meet each other's needs. In
therapy, your needs are what matter. The word itself, therapy, comes from a
Greek word meaning "to serve." You receive the service-of being listened to,
understood, helped-not out of friendship, love, or altruism, but for a fee.
Crass as it sounds, this is a strength of therapy-there are no strings attached.
Another essential quality of therapy is safety. If it works well, you can be
yourself, say what you feel, reveal your fantasies, fears, and aspirations,
without repercussions. The therapist's professional role includes receiving your
disclosures without moral judgment or rancor. You won't be ridiculed, censured,
or resented-not when you speak, not a week or a year later. Can your best
friend, spouse, or parent offer this guarantee?
You can say whatever you need to and know it will go no further. Confidentiality
is a key component of the therapeutic relationship, as it is in certain
religious settings. With the exception of certain well-defined circumstances (to
be discussed fully later), the therapist is bound by ethics, and by law, to
reveal nothing that transpires during your sessions. The communication, in fact,
is privileged, which means that the therapist cannot be required (again, with
exceptions) to reveal what you've said, except under court order.
Part of the safety zone in which therapy takes place is its reliability. It
generally happens at the same place and at the same time, and follows a
predictable format. It isn't contingent on your performance-the therapist won't
get up and leave if you fail to keep her entertained or to live up to her
expectations. Even intimate relationships can be jeopardized when one of the
partners goes through personal changes ("You don't seem like yourself"), but in
therapy, change is the whole point.
In addition to everything else, therapy is an educational experience. Some
therapists actually describe what happens as a kind of learning, and compare
their role to that of a teacher or coach. But even when this isn't explicit, any
kind of effective therapy leads you to step back and reconsider what you may
have always taken for granted, to try out new ways of looking at yourself, your
emotions, and your world.
continue: Who Needs Therapy?
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Reviewed: 03/2006
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