If your therapist asks, “And how does that make you feel,”
It’s time to get a new therapist.
Dr. Berger, a fictional psychiatrist played by Judd Hirsch in the 1980 film Ordinary People never asked, “And how does that make you feel?” He was the therapist I wished I had as a teenager. And he was my original role model when I became an adolescent and family therapist. Although the portrayal of Dr. Berger was written well, most movies and television portray therapists as machines just mindlessly asking, “And how does that make you feel?” As if that question is somehow helpful. Or that knowing how you feel is all that matters and is the answer to all your problems. You may even wonder, especially if your only reference to therapy is from the media, how is therapy useful at all? For over two decades I have spent eight hours a day paying attention to the clues you reveal about how you are feeling. I listen for the subtext of what you are saying, like subtitles in a foreign film, which helps me to understand your experience and how you make sense of your world. It is my job to witness your feelings without judgement, to communicate understanding, and perhaps, to challenge you to think and act in new ways. If I can’t tell how you feel, then I’m not doing my job. If a therapist asked me, “And how does that make you feel?” I’d want to scream, “Haven’t you been listening?” The question itself doesn’t even make sense. We all know that someone or something can’t make you feel anything. It’s how you make sense out of someone’s intentions or how you perceive something that creates the feeling. In other words, it’s how you interpret a situation that causes you to feel a certain way. Think one way about something and you feel one way. Think another way, you feel differently. The best example I have of how this works is a story about road rage on a California highway. A taxi driver stops his vehicle in the middle of the highway causing traffic to back up for miles. The blocked drivers are outraged, honking, screaming and cursing, frustratedly making assumptions about the taxi driver, about his character and his intentions. Then, all of a sudden, the taxi driver holds up an infant that has just been born in the cab. The rage instantly melts. The blocked drivers begin applauding and crying as they realize they were wrong about the cab driver: he had to stop to help birth a baby! Armed with this new information the blocked drivers are no longer angry. They are exhilarated. Their feelings changed. Contrary to what you may think, therapists are not interested in fixing or changing you. I can’t ever really know what it’s like to be you or know what’s best for you. But, by paying attention to how you feel I can begin to understand how you make sense out of your world. In order for me to do that I have to first understand the context of your situation, your history, and how you feel. I get this information by asking good questions, listening to underlying feelings, staying curious and interested, and identifying and giving language to your experience. All of this helps you to feel understood on a deep level. The magic of therapy happens when I communicate that understanding back to you. Once you feel understood, then can you begin to accept yourself, challenge your beliefs, or think and act in new ways. When you tell me a story about an experience I’m listening to what you’re trying to tell me and how you are feeling. I’m thinking, “Why are you telling me this? What do you want me to know about you? What did it feel like to be you in this situation? And how do you make sense of your world?” And then I work to communicate back to you that I’ve understood your experience. Imagine that you had been looking forward to a weekend getaway with your partner in Montreal. But when you get to your Airbnb, you and your partner have a big fight. Back from the trip, you share your experience with different people who are well-intentioned: Your good friend might sympathize, “You poor thing. I remember the time I went to Montreal…” Wait, why are we talking about you right now? Your mother might take the opportunity to say, “Well, I never liked them. You’ll be sorry you said anything. Your father might try to placate you by asking, “But you had a good time, right?” He’s trying to fix it and make you feel better by bypassing your feelings. His own ability to tolerate your unhappiness may get in his way of truly listening. A Seinfeld therapist might self-centeredly quip, “Which Airbnb?” Funny because they totally miss the point. An inexperienced, unskilled, or cinematic therapist might robotically ask “And how did that make you feel?” How did I feel? Haven’t you been listening? But a skilled therapist will empathize, “You must feel very disappointed. I know how much you were looking forward to a romantic weekend with your partner.” Immediately, you feel understood. Your guard goes down. There is some relief. You may have not even known that this was how you were feeling. But once the feeling is identified you have a better understanding of yourself. Of course you feel disappointed. It makes sense. You feel validated. You’re not crazy. In some ways when I sit with you and identify your feelings, I’m like a foreign language interpreter. The language of emotions is often foreign and I’m interpreting your feelings for you. Therapy is learning to speak the language of emotions fluently. It sometimes seems as if I’m more of a mindreader than an interpreter because I often know how you’re feeling before you do. I’m not, of course; I’m just skilled at listening to underlying feelings. I don’t need to ask you how you feel because if I’m doing my job, I already know how you feel. And if I do my job well, I reflect back to you how you might be feeling so that you feel understood. If I get it wrong, which is rare, it’s okay. What’s important is that I’m working hard to understand you. Someone cares enough to hang in there with you and get it. I recently rewatched Ordinary People and read the screenplay to see if it still held up thirty years later. Aside from the signs of the time (which include smoking and answering his phone during a session, definite no-no’s) Dr. Berger’s still got it. He not only showed up, even after hours, he hung in there with his client. He was appropriately funny, authentic and direct and he communicated that he understood how his client was feeling on a deep level without ever having to ask, “And how does that make you feel.” –By Barbara Boutsikaris, MS LCMHC |