THIS IS WHAT COUNSELLING IS ALL ABOUT

I’ve decided that for now, I’d like you to get to know what I think about the nature of this relationship we call counselling therapy.

Why? Because in my experience it’s not uncommon for people to approach a counsellor with the belief, like the guy in the cartoon, that the professional knows the answer to their problems and will tell them what to do. It’s not usually that simple. The lives of us human beings are much too complex and mysterious for simple prescriptions. It’s also been my experience (and there’s no substitute for experience) that there isn’t much point in telling people what to do, because they rarely, if ever, do it anyway.

Many of our beliefs, expectations and misconceptions about counselling therapy come from the medical model.

The medical model in a nutshell: when we experience symptoms, we report them to a trained professional who investigates the cause. They treat the cause, or the symptoms. Repeat if necessary until there is a lessening of the symptoms which indicates that the cause is either eradicated or under control.

If you’ve watched the TV series Doc Martin you’ll be familiar with someone who is unapologetically committed to the medical model. For the Doc, the facts reveal the truth and he tells the truth without sugar-coating. If his patients don’t agree with his diagnosis or refuse to do what he tells them, they’re idiots. And he calls them that.

Of course the character of Martin Ellingham is a dramatic caricature. In real life medical professionals aren’t normally so rigid, at least none that I’ve ever met. Personally, I think he’s maddenly annoying and I find myself yelling at the TV. But that’s what’s captivating about the show: his relationships with the denizens of his Cornish village and the crazy plot twists that keep us wanting more. But consider this, if you’re familiar with Doc Martin, would you like to have that tosser as your counsellor?

Please don’t get me wrong. I don’t have anything against the medical model as such. Especially if I have to get help for a broken leg or disturbing symptoms that might be signs of serious illness. I’d be intensely grateful to have my bone set or given a diagnosis and prognosis by a trained medical professional that sets me on a course of treatment and, hopefully, a cure.

My task here though is to consider a more difficult-to-define model of healing. An approach that is different in method than a strictly medical one. One that’s called upon to address more mysterious causes of human suffering with symptoms that are a combination of the mental, emotional, physical, and behavioural. And particularly relational and spiritual.

This approach to therapy is best described as sublime.

I don’t believe I’m overstating it when I call it sublime. I think it’s the best word to describe the amazing, almost instinctual, human striving to reach a satisfying and peaceful level of experience; even if that striving requires doing less or enduring some struggle along the way. A sublime approach enlists psychology, spirit, and biology in the healing process. And, for me, it means embracing our humanity as essentially relational.

Sublime can also describe something that is awe-inspiring. When, for instance, someone learns to see the difference between melancholy and depression, or between anger as a life force and anger as a weapon of intimidation and violence. It’s awe-inspiring to arrive at the acceptance of our powerlessness over those things over which we have no control. Or when someone learns to claim their power, or drop their armour and embrace their vulnerability … or when a couple experiences intimacy as more than a euphemism for sex, and realizing that vulnerability takes courage but is the surest way to connection. I could go on …

The medical world doesn’t attribute healing to the individual. It attributes healing to the drug or to the surgery and to the implementation of a procedure. And it doesn’t really recruit the client – the patient – as a collaborator on this journey. Our job should be to recruit the patient’s nervous system as a collaborator on the journey of healing.

-Dr. Stephen Porges, Being Well. podcast

The quotation points to a pivotal aspect of the sublime.

The methods of this therapy have to serve the complexity of human experience and it’s multitude of challenges (as I hope I made clear a minute ago) I requires, not prescriptions, (remember the futility of telling people what to do!) but the forging of a spirit of collaboration.

The collaborative nature of counselling therapy has an interesting topspin. The client identifies the destination – the point when they realize they’ve got what they need from the relationship – but they’ve enlisted the help of the counsellor to guide them there. The follower is actually the leader. And the leader surrenders to being led.

Counsellors need to be trained and experienced in human behaviour and relationships and be able to develop a blueprint, or a plan for therapy. But, and it’s a big but: plans more than often change as the therapy unfolds – when the client feels safer, and knows the counsellor is trustworthy. Trust requires a commitment to honesty and sincerity – by both the client and the counsellor. Talk about a sublime process. How do you know when you trust someone?

I have to add, and I don’t mean this as an afterthought, that safety and trust for both the client and the practitioner rest on the counsellor having credentials granted by a professional association that requires education in core competencies, has a clear set of practice standards and a code of ethical conduct. The sublime nature of the counselling relationship is too precious to be trifled with. My hope is, if someone decides to seek help from a counsellor, the better informed the client is about the process, the better the chance of them getting what they want or even better, what they need, out of it.

Counseling in the time of Covid. Ever wonder what your counsellor is wearing from the waste down during a Zoom session.? I have to admit that I sometimes wonder about the client.

By the way, please know that I do welcome your comments: suggestions, critiques and questions.

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