“My husband does these little things that get under my skin,” Naomi lamented as she sat across from me. “Like he chews his ice.” She scrunched up her freckled nose and clenched her fists. “I ask him not to. I ask him really nicely to please not chew his ice.”
She shared some other things her husband did to annoy her. “Like, whenever I ask him a question, he’ll answer with a question. I’ll ask what he wants for dinner, and he’ll shrug and be like, ‘What do you want for dinner?’ I know I’m overreacting, but that makes me furious.”
“I can’t stand that. I want to scream at him.”
“What do you think it is about that question that makes you furious?”
“I don’t care.” Her arms crossed; she was now tapping her foot against the carpet. “I don’t care why I feel like that. I just want to not feel like that. I want to stop being so pissed off at him.”
This was not the first time Naomi and I had had this kind of impasse: me attempting to better understand her and her dismissing my attempt as a pointless intrusion. She wanted “tools” to change her feelings, specifically to help her feel less angry with her husband.
“I get that you want tools to help you feel less upset,” I said, “and we can definitely talk about tools, but I think that in order to change your feelings, it’s important to first understand them.”
“I don’t get that logic.” She straightened her posture. “No offense. I’m sure you help many people, but I’m not your typical client. I don’t want to sit here for 50 minutes whining about my problems. I don’t need a sounding board. I need tools to change my situation.”
Over the weeks that followed, I obliged Naomi’s request to talk about tools, and we identified coping skills that had worked for her in other situations. All the while, I kept nudging her to further explore her feelings, my belief being that clients like Naomi ultimately benefit from developing greater emotional insight.
Following one of my nudges, she indicated that her reluctance to talk about her feelings was based on her fear of becoming helpless. “I don’t want to turn into one of these whiners you see on TikTok. You know, these helpless women who can’t handle the slightest adversity and always complain about being victims.”
“Well, goodness,” I said with playfulness, “I wouldn't want to turn you into one of those women either.” She looked at me as I spoke these words, and we both laughed. This marked a turning point in our work together. I better understood her fear of becoming helpless, and she understood that that would never be my intention.
Naomi started to more fully open up, and I began to sense that her anger over her husband was more complicated than she’d assumed. When she told me one afternoon how he had continued answering her questions with questions, I asked that standard therapist question: “How did that make you feel?”
“Really pissed off,” she answered.
“Beneath that feeling of being pissed off, what else did you feel?”
“I don’t know.” She looked away and slowly shook her head. “I guess I felt like a monster.”
“You felt like a monster?” I emphasized.
“It’s like he’s afraid to disagree with me. I think he’s afraid that if he disagrees with me, I’m going to bite his head off. But I’m not like that. I’m really not so horrible.”
“That must really hurt, to believe your husband thinks you’re this monster.”
“It sucks.” Her energy had changed, her body now still, her head slumped forward.
It now seemed clear that she had initially resisted exploring her feelings because what lay beneath her anger—what we would later describe as “shame”—was far more painful to accept than mere anger. The two of us sat in silence for several seconds.
“I wonder if your husband knows that’s how you feel,” I finally said.
“I don’t know. Probably not.” She looked up at me. “We should probably talk about it.”
Naomi’s initial desire to learn new tools was not wholly misguided. Tools, or coping skills, are a necessary component of psychological health. However, coping skills often mitigate symptoms without bringing about lasting change. Sometimes simply adding more gasoline to a sputtering car doesn’t do the trick. Sometimes we need to look under the hood and figure out what’s going on.
Naomi reported back the following week that she had had a heart-to-heart with her husband, the first such conversation they’d had in a long time. “We’re better. We’re not perfect. No relationship is perfect. But it’s good that we talked.”
Questions for Thought and Discussion
In what ways do you resonate with the author’s premise regarding feeling exploration?
How do you work with clients who resist exploration of their feelings?
In what ways might you have worked differently with a client like Naomi?
File under: The Art of Psychotherapy, Musings and Reflections, Online Therapy
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She shared some other things her husband did to annoy her. “Like, whenever I ask him a question, he’ll answer with a question. I’ll ask what he wants for dinner, and he’ll shrug and be like, ‘What do you want for dinner?’ I know I’m overreacting, but that makes me furious.”
Helping Clients to Put Feelings into Words is not Always Easy
“You feel furious,” I said.“I can’t stand that. I want to scream at him.”
“What do you think it is about that question that makes you furious?”
“I don’t care.” Her arms crossed; she was now tapping her foot against the carpet. “I don’t care why I feel like that. I just want to not feel like that. I want to stop being so pissed off at him.”
This was not the first time Naomi and I had had this kind of impasse: me attempting to better understand her and her dismissing my attempt as a pointless intrusion. She wanted “tools” to change her feelings, specifically to help her feel less angry with her husband.
“I get that you want tools to help you feel less upset,” I said, “and we can definitely talk about tools, but I think that in order to change your feelings, it’s important to first understand them.”
“I don’t get that logic.” She straightened her posture. “No offense. I’m sure you help many people, but I’m not your typical client. I don’t want to sit here for 50 minutes whining about my problems. I don’t need a sounding board. I need tools to change my situation.”
Over the weeks that followed, I obliged Naomi’s request to talk about tools, and we identified coping skills that had worked for her in other situations. All the while, I kept nudging her to further explore her feelings, my belief being that clients like Naomi ultimately benefit from developing greater emotional insight.
Following one of my nudges, she indicated that her reluctance to talk about her feelings was based on her fear of becoming helpless. “I don’t want to turn into one of these whiners you see on TikTok. You know, these helpless women who can’t handle the slightest adversity and always complain about being victims.”
“Well, goodness,” I said with playfulness, “I wouldn't want to turn you into one of those women either.” She looked at me as I spoke these words, and we both laughed. This marked a turning point in our work together. I better understood her fear of becoming helpless, and she understood that that would never be my intention.
Naomi started to more fully open up, and I began to sense that her anger over her husband was more complicated than she’d assumed. When she told me one afternoon how he had continued answering her questions with questions, I asked that standard therapist question: “How did that make you feel?”
“Really pissed off,” she answered.
“Beneath that feeling of being pissed off, what else did you feel?”
“I don’t know.” She looked away and slowly shook her head. “I guess I felt like a monster.”
“You felt like a monster?” I emphasized.
“It’s like he’s afraid to disagree with me. I think he’s afraid that if he disagrees with me, I’m going to bite his head off. But I’m not like that. I’m really not so horrible.”
“That must really hurt, to believe your husband thinks you’re this monster.”
“It sucks.” Her energy had changed, her body now still, her head slumped forward.
It now seemed clear that she had initially resisted exploring her feelings because what lay beneath her anger—what we would later describe as “shame”—was far more painful to accept than mere anger. The two of us sat in silence for several seconds.
“I wonder if your husband knows that’s how you feel,” I finally said.
“I don’t know. Probably not.” She looked up at me. “We should probably talk about it.”
Naomi’s initial desire to learn new tools was not wholly misguided. Tools, or coping skills, are a necessary component of psychological health. However, coping skills often mitigate symptoms without bringing about lasting change. Sometimes simply adding more gasoline to a sputtering car doesn’t do the trick. Sometimes we need to look under the hood and figure out what’s going on.
Naomi reported back the following week that she had had a heart-to-heart with her husband, the first such conversation they’d had in a long time. “We’re better. We’re not perfect. No relationship is perfect. But it’s good that we talked.”
Questions for Thought and Discussion
In what ways do you resonate with the author’s premise regarding feeling exploration?
How do you work with clients who resist exploration of their feelings?
In what ways might you have worked differently with a client like Naomi?
File under: The Art of Psychotherapy, Musings and Reflections, Online Therapy