Thursday, June 28, 2007 at 12:12am
Saying hello to goodbye
Column: wavelength
These are tender days.
If you are current with my process, you know that I am closing my clinical practice to pursue the direction of Spirit. I am now knee-deep in sorting through bookcases, reviewing files, making referrals and shutting down a nearly 20-year body of work in the field that was my dream come true.
I remember back to my clinic days, 19 years ago, and the very first time I was allowed to counsel someone. I got such a thrill in closing the office door and meeting one-to-one with my client. I felt I was the one who was being gifted and graced. I was so happy and so excited with the work, my clients and their issues. Despite the paperwork, this psychotherapy business was a perfect fit for me.
I have loved my work. It has been my primary relationship; it has been my identity. It has been my calling — until now.
I have always been a big advocate of feeling. I firmly believe that you have to feel to heal. That has been my recurring mantra. Now I am the one who needs to feel.
Moreover, I am not of the blank-slate-no-reaction school of thought. I believe that one of the best gifts I can give my clients is to respond with my authentic self.
So, bearing in mind those considerations, join me as I head into New York City to visit a young client who has faced innumerable health and life challenges. I bring with me Wuzzie, an oatmeal-colored, well-loved teddy bear.
Before we proceed, here is a bit of the back story of Wuzzie:
When I opened my private practice 17 years ago, I felt a teddy bear was a necessary requisite to my work. So with great determination, I headed to the local mall to find the perfect teddy bear. I visited several stores and, after much consideration, I chose Wuzzie. He had the best face, the nicest feel and a comfy physique. And you can't go wrong with a bear sporting a plaid bow tie.
Wuzzie has been my goodwill ambassador. He has traveled across a number of state lines. He has stayed with my clients when they have been hospitalized; he has made home visits when his cuddly, reassuring presence was needed.
Most importantly, Wuzzie has been an anchor for clients working through unimaginable trauma and abuse memories. And the "Wuzz" has added some playfulness to my practice; I have cautioned my clients that Wuzzie does like to jump on the furniture, eat the petals off my flowers and snitch peppermints from the candy dish. He is a bear with a very silly sense of humor, and he likes to snuggle.
In psychological terms, we would call Wuzzie a "transitional object." In my opinion, Wuzzie has been a very effective co-therapist.
OK, so here I am in New York with this sweet munchkin of a girl. Miss Munchkin has taken gummy candy letters and created a message of "goodbye hugs" on a paper plate for me. I pull Wuzzie out of my bag and ask if she would like to take care of Wuzzie for me. This child is smart; she hesitates and confusion rolls across her brow. She looks at me — tears are spilling out of my eyes. She offers the bear back to me. I cannot speak; I am broadsided with emotion.
Where is this coming from? Why am I, a midlife woman, losing it over this bear? I want Miss Munchkin to have the bear; she is the perfect choice. Wuzzie has joined her for far-too-many hospital stays; they know each other well. I don't want to take Wuzzie with me on the next leg of my journey. Yet, there I sit, awash in my feelings and blowing my nose.
Happily, Wuzzie stayed, and I left Miss Munchkin's apartment.
In that teddy bear exchange, I had transitioned into my sadness and grief in saying goodbye to my practice, the heart of which is my relationship with my clients.
As I made the drive back to my office, I felt hollowed out. My mind was flipping through assorted therapeutic memories. I was feeling the intensities of the connections with my clients.
Psychotherapy is a deeply intimate, albeit one-sided, process. It is an amazing gift to honor and witness an individual's private process, to be able to aid and abet where needed, to support, counsel and be a backboard upon which to bounce life. Truly it is sacred, meaningful and soul-satisfying work.
That day, I felt like every client was coming out from the back stage of my mind. It was a bit like the nostalgic "Sound of Music" scene where the kids sing the "Goodbye, Farewell" song as they exit the stage. Each of "my kids" was coming out; however, I was the one saying goodbye.
Wouldn't it figure it would take the expertise of a child and a teddy bear to get through to this psychologist? I am grateful to Miss Munchkin and Wuzzie bear for breaking open my heart so that I could feel to heal.
Today, I am learning to say hello to goodbye.
— — —
Dr. Adele Ryan McDowell, Ph.D., is a psychologist, empath and shaman who likes looking at life with the big viewfinder. Her email address is {email ARMCDOWELL@aol.com}ARMCDOWELL@aol.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Adele Ryan McDowell.
If you are current with my process, you know that I am closing my clinical practice to pursue the direction of Spirit. I am now knee-deep in sorting through bookcases, reviewing files, making referrals and shutting down a nearly 20-year body of work in the field that was my dream come true.
I remember back to my clinic days, 19 years ago, and the very first time I was allowed to counsel someone. I got such a thrill in closing the office door and meeting one-to-one with my client. I felt I was the one who was being gifted and graced. I was so happy and so excited with the work, my clients and their issues. Despite the paperwork, this psychotherapy business was a perfect fit for me.
I have loved my work. It has been my primary relationship; it has been my identity. It has been my calling — until now.
I have always been a big advocate of feeling. I firmly believe that you have to feel to heal. That has been my recurring mantra. Now I am the one who needs to feel.
Moreover, I am not of the blank-slate-no-reaction school of thought. I believe that one of the best gifts I can give my clients is to respond with my authentic self.
So, bearing in mind those considerations, join me as I head into New York City to visit a young client who has faced innumerable health and life challenges. I bring with me Wuzzie, an oatmeal-colored, well-loved teddy bear.
Before we proceed, here is a bit of the back story of Wuzzie:
When I opened my private practice 17 years ago, I felt a teddy bear was a necessary requisite to my work. So with great determination, I headed to the local mall to find the perfect teddy bear. I visited several stores and, after much consideration, I chose Wuzzie. He had the best face, the nicest feel and a comfy physique. And you can't go wrong with a bear sporting a plaid bow tie.
Wuzzie has been my goodwill ambassador. He has traveled across a number of state lines. He has stayed with my clients when they have been hospitalized; he has made home visits when his cuddly, reassuring presence was needed.
Most importantly, Wuzzie has been an anchor for clients working through unimaginable trauma and abuse memories. And the "Wuzz" has added some playfulness to my practice; I have cautioned my clients that Wuzzie does like to jump on the furniture, eat the petals off my flowers and snitch peppermints from the candy dish. He is a bear with a very silly sense of humor, and he likes to snuggle.
In psychological terms, we would call Wuzzie a "transitional object." In my opinion, Wuzzie has been a very effective co-therapist.
OK, so here I am in New York with this sweet munchkin of a girl. Miss Munchkin has taken gummy candy letters and created a message of "goodbye hugs" on a paper plate for me. I pull Wuzzie out of my bag and ask if she would like to take care of Wuzzie for me. This child is smart; she hesitates and confusion rolls across her brow. She looks at me — tears are spilling out of my eyes. She offers the bear back to me. I cannot speak; I am broadsided with emotion.
Where is this coming from? Why am I, a midlife woman, losing it over this bear? I want Miss Munchkin to have the bear; she is the perfect choice. Wuzzie has joined her for far-too-many hospital stays; they know each other well. I don't want to take Wuzzie with me on the next leg of my journey. Yet, there I sit, awash in my feelings and blowing my nose.
Happily, Wuzzie stayed, and I left Miss Munchkin's apartment.
In that teddy bear exchange, I had transitioned into my sadness and grief in saying goodbye to my practice, the heart of which is my relationship with my clients.
As I made the drive back to my office, I felt hollowed out. My mind was flipping through assorted therapeutic memories. I was feeling the intensities of the connections with my clients.
Psychotherapy is a deeply intimate, albeit one-sided, process. It is an amazing gift to honor and witness an individual's private process, to be able to aid and abet where needed, to support, counsel and be a backboard upon which to bounce life. Truly it is sacred, meaningful and soul-satisfying work.
That day, I felt like every client was coming out from the back stage of my mind. It was a bit like the nostalgic "Sound of Music" scene where the kids sing the "Goodbye, Farewell" song as they exit the stage. Each of "my kids" was coming out; however, I was the one saying goodbye.
Wouldn't it figure it would take the expertise of a child and a teddy bear to get through to this psychologist? I am grateful to Miss Munchkin and Wuzzie bear for breaking open my heart so that I could feel to heal.
Today, I am learning to say hello to goodbye.
— — —
Dr. Adele Ryan McDowell, Ph.D., is a psychologist, empath and shaman who likes looking at life with the big viewfinder. Her email address is {email ARMCDOWELL@aol.com}ARMCDOWELL@aol.com{/email}. © copyright 2007 by Adele Ryan McDowell.