Counselling, Dreams, Hope, Madness, Narratives, Psychoanalysis, Psychotherapy, Religion, Spirituality, The Inner World, The unconscious, Ways of Being

Beauty and the Beast


 For Kevin who very helpfully suggested that I write this particular blog. I hope it meets with your approval!

 

I recently went and watched the current version of Beauty and the Beast, directed by Bill Condon. I loved it. I’m always willing to be seduced by a romance. This film ticked all the boxes as far as I was concerned. Love, passion, pain, denial, deceit, justice and a few more issues en route. what was not to like? I hesitated for about two weeks before allowing myself to go and see it. I didn’t have an accompanying child and was genuinely concerned about how  I might be seen going to this film as a man by myself. In the end I gathered up my courage  and went to see it-half expecting to be asked to produce my CRB certificate. I wasn’t!

The story lends itself to various interpretations .One is see it as a narrative about Stockholm syndrome Another reads it as a  feminist story. Another as a psychoanalytic account. Or even as “just” a fairy tale!   All of which can be laid onto the story. As Bruno Bettelheim wrote “… fairy tales carry important messages to the conscious, the preconscious and the unconscious  mind, on whatever level each is functioning.”  (The Uses of Enchantment 1975)  . For this blog, I want to write  about it from a psychoanalytic perspective. I want to take a Kleinian view and think about the ways in which both Beauty and the Beast have to come to terms with parts of themselves they have previously denied. And the consequences for both themselves and others if they fail to achieve this understanding.

I think one of the many things that is going on in this story is that both Beauty and the Beast have to recognise themselves in the other.

Initially they both deny the Other in themselves. Beauty hates the Beast for holding her captive.  But we all know that hatred brings with it  a host of other feelings. Rage, anger, fury, and a wish for vengeance, the capacity for similar cruelty. (ISIS amongst others is demonstrating this so clearly. The victim is capable of as much cruelty as the perpetrator.) In the early part of the story, Beauty can protect herself from her beastliness by projecting it into the Beast, who is a willing recipient of these feelings-for reasons of his own.  For the Beast the challenge is to risk accessing  his own vulnerability and allow himself to become loving and caring. To see in himself the parts of himself owned by Beauty. In so doing he has to risk rejection. There is no guarantee that Beauty will love him or see anything in him beyond  his beast self. Both have a vested interest in not changing. Barrack Obama caught this idea in his comment “Change  will not come if we for some other person or some other time. We are the ones we’ve been waiting for. We are the change that we seek.”

Unfortunately it is not only Beauty and the Beast who are trapped in the castle. Others are also involved and trapped by the spell that binds the Beast. They can only find freedom if the Beast learns to love. The metaphor is not difficult to see! But it remains true in the inner world. Until we learn to love and be loved, many aspects  of our personality are frozen. Ironically the converse is true. If we never learn about our hatred what meaning is there to our love? (This is where I struggle somewhat with the gospel accounts of Jesus’ crucifixion etc. We are  never shown his anger about what is happening to him. He is presented only as a suffering servant whose task is to fulfil someone else’s mission at considerable cost to himself. Most carers admit to knowing the shadow side of their caring self. Jesus is portrayed as having no shadow, certainly by the gospel accounts of is life.)

For both Beauty and the Beat, their responses will affect the future of others. (Whenever someone comes to me for counselling with a history of violence I invariably assume a family history of violence.  It is much the same  with anxiety. The anxious woman sitting in my room nearly always  comes from a line of worried women. Generations pass on their damage to the next one.)

In the end, both Beauty and the Beast take a risk. The result is health and wholeness for all parties. But it was a long journey! 

 

 

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Hope, Madness, Narratives, Psychoanalysis, Psychosis, Religion, Schizophrenia, The Inner World, The unconscious, Ways of Being

The enemy within?

Like so many others I’ve watched with concern Donald Trump’s attempt to ban certain groups from entering America. His argument is that they are  a threat to national security. I suspect that America is quite capable of producing home-grown terrorists without importing them. Psychologically his attitude is fascinating – albeit dangerous.

 

In psychoanalysis there is the idea of two states of mind in which we live. Technically called the paranoid-schizoid position and the depressive position. In the paranoid-schizoid position the infant has two mummies. The good mummy who comes when called, feeds me when I’m hungry, changes me when I’m wet and so on. I love this mummy.  Then there is the bad mummy. She leaves me too long, does not instantly respond to my needs and so forth. I hate this mummy. Eventually the child comes to recognise that the two mummies are one person. The bad mother is also the good mother. And vice versa. The child is faced with a problem. How to live with its responses to this mother. How do I reconcile my love of the good mother with my hatred of the bad one? What does this say about me? I have to live with my capacity for hatred as much as I live with my capacity for love. (R.D.Laing explored this tension brilliantly in his book “Knots”.) It is the problem Juliet faces in Romeo and Juliet when she falls in love with Romeo and laments that her only love has sprung from here only hate. Bringing these two positions together is what we call the depressive position. It takes courage to live in this place.

I think we are seeing something similar being played out with the rise of far Right political groups. The enemy is the immigrant who is taking our jobs, stealing our benefits and generally being parasitical. We then go to our hospital and are grateful to the Pakistani doctor who cares for us. The African   nurses who look after us. The Chinese Radiographer who scans our bones. These are good people! The bad ones are the other kind. (Whoever they may be.)

We separate good “mothers” from “bad” ones. Why? Because to recognise the split within ourselves would be too painful. We would be forced to acknowledge our own ambivalences. We see this splitting off in men who murder prostitutes. In women who will allow a dangerous partner to look after her children. In the killing of gay men by straight men who fear what they desire.And in the psychotic states of mind like schizophrenia where the denied part is heard as voices which can be disowned.)

It seems to me that this is Donald Trump’s agenda. In banning Muslims from coming to America he is attempting to banish split off parts of his psyche. And that of a segment of America. He can hate the poor, the needy , the vulnerable. In much the same way as some religious groups demand “modesty” from women. (If I lust after  a woman’s body, why is it that this is the woman’s fault? Why should she wear a burka and cover up all but her eyes? Why should some christian groups demand that wives are submissive in all things to their husbands?) In Trump’s terms, we might wonder what parts of himself he is putting into the poor etc-from whichever country they come. I suspect from his bombast that he cannot tolerate his own needy parts. His narcissism stemming from a profound insecurity. What makes him dangerous is, of course, that he has mobilised a part of America that feels dispossessed and unloved. Perhaps with some justification.  Brexit in the UK seems to me to demonstrate something similar.

As a counsellor, I have some idea about how I might work with a patient exhibiting these attitudes. Where does the hatred come from? What triggers the fearful self loathing? I would hope that, over time, we would build a strong enough relationship for my patient to let go of some of their fears. To come to a place where they could grow some self-love and nurture the parts of themselves that they so despise. (The despising coming from a fear of vulnerability and neediness)

But I am not a politician. Trump is not my patient. Nor are the Brexiteers.  Perhaps it is time for the clinicians and politicians to sit round the table together and share some insights. Then we could move the social narrative on from a split, paranoid-schizoid position to a more integrtated depressive position.

 

internal-conflict

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Counselling, Dreams, Hope, Madness, Narratives, Psychoanalysis, Psychotherapy, The Inner World, The unconscious, Ways of Being

3D Chess

I tweeted recently that counselling often feels like playing chess. With multiple boards in multiple dimensions. With multiple players. As a counsellor I spend a lot of time with my patients trying to work out which piece belongs to which game. (In which dimension!) Chaos theory tells us that a butterfly stamping its foot in Brazil can cause an earthquake in Cumbria.

Chess is often used as a metaphor for politics. If I make this move now, what will be the long term consequences for my game? If I sacrifice my Knight here, will that eventually allow me a strategic victory in 50 moves time. We call this board sight. A good player reaches a level where they can read a board intuitively. Or at least a certain number of moves ahead.  It’s a skill we all develop in our career, if we stay long enough. A good teacher develops a sense of what might help a child. A good manager learns to read their team. A nurse develops a sixth sense about their patient.

What is seen so often in my counselling room is a patient who has no broad sight. They move a piece almost randomly,  with little understanding of how this will affect the rest of their game. A Bishop is given up here, a Knight there.  This pattern gets repeated game after game. And they are unable to work out why this is happening.chess-board

A chess game is just a chess game. We can always decide to take up Scrabble or Table Tennis. It doesn’t matter much. Real life is more serious. When I assess a new patient their stories have a sadly familiar ring to them. The woman who has anxiety problems. Her mother was the same. As was her Grandmother. The man who is violent and has problems controlling his anger. His father was angry and violent. As was his Grandfather. People often come to me when they see the  pattern repeating in their children. It is not uncommon for a husband or wife to be the driving force in someone seeking counselling. Their behaviour in the family is causing problems and difficulties.

Any single chess game can be complicated enough. As well as challenging, demanding and enjoyable if one knows what is happening. Or at least knows how to think about thinking about.  When it is real life and the individual has no idea about the game they are involved in, this terror is compounded when it seems that another game somewhere else is affecting the current one. My grandfather’s game from eighty years ago can still affect the moves I make now,  particularly if he is still playing it out through and in me.  Messages about how women should behave, what a man should or should not be able to do, these are alive today, impacting on my life today. Suddenly I find myself moving my pawn to that square for no apparent reason. Regardless of the risk to that piece.
chess-boardIn my counselling  I work with people who have some awareness of their lack of board sight. What frightens me are the politicians who wish to use their power to play out a game they don’t know. We don’t know the impact of Brexit. I don’t know the  impact of the recent USA elections.  The increased popularity of the far Right feels like a chess game played with real people. Real people are and will be hurt.

I wonder if Theresa May and Donald Trump want an In-House therapist?

 

 

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Counselling, Dreams, Hope, Madness, Narratives, Psychosis, Religion, Spirituality, The Inner World, The unconscious, Ways of Being

Jack and the Beanstalk . A risk Assessment story.

jack_and_the_beanstalk_by_rogan519-d3hdboxThis is a coming of age story. About a young boy discovering his capacity to be potent. To make  a difference. But to do this there is Risk. Any sensible person would have done a risk Assessment and decided to stay in the comfort zone. One old cow. One market place. One purse of money. One knacker’s yard. Deal done. Not Jack. He sells the cow for some beans. How stupid is that? (His mother makes her feelings known very clearly. She is, of course, a Sensible Adult.)

Jack is unrepentant. He plants his beans to see what will happen. Nothing much. That’s the trouble with Taking a Risk. One is never sure of the outcome. Cinderella couldn’t guarantee her Prince. Dick Whittington his streets of gold. Aladdin his lamp.  That’s just the Way Things Are. No Risk. No Gain. (And, of course, no Pain.)

We are in the country of Kiergaard and his Leap of Faith. Of Pascal’s Wager. Both should be seen as a Bad Influence. Suggesting that taking a leap of Faith is a worthy practice. (But, surely, the whole Christmas story is about Leaps of Faith .Mary and Joseph; the Shepherds; the Magi ; God. All involved in one lemming like leap. How unwise. Look how all that ended.)

So, Jack and a handful of beans. What to do? Obvious. Plant them. Bury them. Take a chance that they will find favourable conditions and grow. (That’s also the story of therapy. Create favourable conditions for growth and see what emerges. It is of course the story of any conception .Create the right conditions and see what grows. Even if the result is not what we were expecting)

The beans having been planted, something breaks the surface. A small shoot at first. Then it keeps on going. And growing. And growing until its’  tops are out of sight. What to do now? Fence it in and invite the public to come and see it. Charge an entrance fee. That would solve their money problems. Hire  an accountant to give them the best return on their money. Jack has a different idea. (He always will have.) He climbs the beanstalk. To who knows where or what. Life or Death. Heaven or Hell. Angels or Giants. Poverty or Riches. Or all these.)

We know what happens. A golden goose. A magical harp. Oh. And a giant.That ‘s just the way things are. Music and money. But also giants and danger. Giants who resent having their things stolen.  The giant comes down. The tree is felled. No more giant. Everyone lives happily after. Except the giant. That’s another part of these stories. They accept that not everything is fair all the time for  everyone. The giant loses out. Jack’s happiness is gained at a cost to someone else. That’s unfair. But this is not a cosy morality play. It’s about the harshness of things.

Bettelheim puts it like this“The unrealistic nature of these tales (which narrow-minded rationalists object to) is an important device, because it makes obvious that the fairy tales’ concern is not useful information about the external world, but the inner process taking place in an individual.”

That works for me! I know my generosity is tempered by my meanness. My kindness by my cruelty. My wealth by my poverty. That’s what makes me human.

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Borderline States, Counselling, Dreams, Hope, Madness, Mindfullness, Narratives, Psychoanalysis, Psychotherapy, Reflective Practice, Religion, Spirituality, The Inner World, The unconscious, Ways of Being

Advent

advent7All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.

Extract from “Journey of the Magi”

T.S.Eliot

 

The extract above is from T.S.Eliot’s poem  “Journey of the Magi”. I first heard it when I was at college and it has stayed with me. He captures the struggle of the Magi to  make their journey. These are  not triumphant warriors coming home. These are  men  who are tired. For whom the journey is uncertain. “Were we led all that way for Birth or Death?” That is a question that arises so often in therapy. “What am I doing here? I thought counselling was supposed to make me feel better.  I feel like shit.”

The Magi responded to a sign which they saw as significant. They were unsure what it signified, but they understood it to be important. The same is often true of my patients. They see a sign. A difficult marriage or relationship. Tensions  at work.  Perhaps feelings of depression and anxiety. These are read as signs. Signs that need to be attended to and understood. We only know that the Magi came from the East following a star. Bethlehem was an unknown destination. The  parallels to clinical work are obvious. We start from a different place. Frequently the place of our beginnings. Our place of birth. Those earliest moments of conception, pregnancy and birth which seem so far from our current places. Yet each time I see a patient we end up back at their beginning. The men whose fathers leave months after  their birth. The men whose mothers abandon them. The women who feel overwhelmed by their father’s expectations  of them. This is where the journey has begun. This is what has shaped their life to date. The woman who has had  six children with six different men. And each of her children taken into “care”. The successful business man who always has a lover whom visits regularly.  Whose wife pretends not to know and not to mind. These journeys are more like death than birth.

The biblical account of the Wise Men is only found in Matthew’s gospel. He places this visit at the end of his genealogies “The book of the generation of Jesus Christ, the son of David, the son of Abraham…” (Matt. 1:1) Matthew is telling his readers their history. As counsellors we don’t share your histories but  nonetheless draw on them in our work. (Unlike Athena who emerged fully armed from the skull of Zeus we have learned our histories the hard way with journeys that seem to have made the Magi’s travels look easy!) We share our patient’s journeys in many ways.We, to, have slept badly at times and have wondered where our journey will take us. To birth or to death?

My aim is to write more about Journeyings. Meanwhile I shall end with some Advent music. Enjoy, as they say!

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Aylesbury, Counselling, Madness, Narratives, Psychoanalysis, Psychosis, Psychotherapy, Religion, Schizophrenia, Spirituality, The Inner World, The unconscious, Ways of Being

Black dog- a postscript.

What started out as a creative writing exercise morphed into a Psychoanalytic shaggy dog story. I wanted to take an unexplained event and offer one kind of interpretation. ( I think I made the assumption that there was never an actual black dog. I suppose that gives away my underlying rationalism. That’s one of the many reasons that I left Fundamentalist Christianity behind.)

So. My black dog. My attempts at offering a psychological reading left me thinking about other “supernatural” stories. How to think about divine visitations. Virgin births, for example. Or burning bushes. Or the finger of God writing on stone tablets.( I’ll use biblical stories because that’s the tradition I know best.)

The tension between a faith interpretation of events and a psychological one is not new. Consider the nuns who had themselves walled in until they died of starvation. They saw this as evidence of their devotion to Christ. We might see it differently. Or Madame Guyon who ate her own faeces as evidence of her self abnegation.

In psychiatry there is a similar schism. The psychiatric saints and mystics see their experiences as evidence of breakthrough. A uniting with a more spiritual self. Others see hearing voices etc as evidence of psychosis. A breakdown.

So, black dogs, hauntings, angels and miracles. Divine intervention or psychological mechanisms? Or both, perhaps?black-dog

 

 

 

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Aylesbury, Counselling, Madness, Narratives, Psychoanalysis, Psychotherapy, Religion, Spirituality, The Inner World, The unconscious, Ways of Being

The Black Dog goes Home

black-dog

I feel as though I should preface this piece with a “New readers start here” summary. I shan’t. This dog has had its’ day and it’s time for it to go back into its’ kennel. We are  left with my patient’s friend whom I suggested was suffering from conversion hysteria. I suspect that in some way he identified himself with the dog. My patient had already said that his friend could be violent at times .”He would never back down from a fight. It didn’t matter if he knew he was going to get a beating, he couldn’t back down. As if he was hard-wired for aggression and violence.”  I asked about  his friends attitude to women.

“He was an odd mixture. He both loved and hated women. He’d been in arrested several times for domestic violence but none of the women would ever press charges. He go home  and for a bit it was all flowers and chocolates.Then something would happen and the violence would erupt. We often saw his girlfriends walking about wearing dark glasses. After a bit we stopped asking  ‘why?'”

With this in mind I contacted the friend’s psychiatrist and wondered if abreaction might be worth a try.

Here is a very brief definition of abreaction:

“Abreaction is a concept introduced by Sigmund Freud in 1893 to denote the fact that pent-up emotions associated with a trauma can be discharged by talking about it. The release of affect occurred by bringing “a particular moment or problem into focus”… and as such formed the cornerstone of Freud’s early cathartic method of treating hysterical conversion symptoms.”

In simple terms, if one can help the patient talk about an event, it brings it into consciousness where it can be thought about and discussed, in the hope of resolving the conflict.

We used this with the friend. We asked him about the black dog. At first he just laid there and shook his head. Which was a kind of progress! Then he said “That black dog was my life. It was me. I loved it. I hated it. I needed it and I loathed it I always knew that one day one of us would kill the other.It had to be that way. I always hoped it would kill me. But that’s not the way it was meant to be,” With this he relapsed back into his “coma”. And has never since moved or spoken. My patient came for  about a year longer then left, happy in himself and settled his marriage.

 

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