Yesterday, after a long silence, my client suddenly asked me, “did I offend you?”
I definitely do not have a penchant for pain. When someone insults me, I do not like the way it feels. Despite my best efforts to hold them back, my eyes often fill with tears in response to even a minor slight. Like most humans, I protect myself valiantly when I feel judged or criticized. Were I, in actuality, to be a martyr for the sake of keeping my clients happy, it would actually be pretty devastating to hear negative feedback. It would mean they weren’t happy with me. Wouldn’t that defeat the entire purpose of the sacrifice?
Here’s the thing; I’m no masochist and I’m definitely not a martyr. However, I am invested in my clients. I believe that for my clients to heal, they need a space where they are free to say and be whatever and whoever they want — including offensive. I might be a sensitive person, however, when I’m in my therapist role, my feelings are only welcome if they are in service of the client. If they aren’t, I set them aside to work through later.
In my experience, clients don’t come to therapy to be rude or offensive, especially toward the therapist. They certainly don’t want to be perceived as an ingrate by someone whose job definition is to help them. They are often ashamed of their selfishness and deny it, not only in the therapy room, but in their lives. But here’s a little secret; if they leave part of themselves outside, then part of them won’t heal. For therapy to work, they need to give voice to all their thoughts and feelings, especially their most shameful ones.
As a therapist, it is my responsibility to make space for the repressed voices of my clients. Good therapy grants permission to express what, outside of therapy, might be labeled socially inappropriate. Lack of this permission can reinforce ineffective patterns of repressing feelings and increasing shame.
The therapeutic challenge comes when, in instances such as this one, my own feelings are at stake. It’s relatively simple to support a client when their complaints are about “other things.” However, when their pain might be related to me, even if I had no intention to hurt them and despite the feeling that they are nitpicking, I feel obligated to face the Herculean task of supporting them just the same. Indeed, this selfless endeavor may be the most important and impactful act of therapy. If I can respond to an insult with curiosity, receive negative feedback without defensiveness, and authentically validate the valid, then I am giving my clients full permission to shamelessly express themselves. I cannot think of a better way to convey unconditional acceptance. But don’t get me wrong, I’m not giving permission for people to act how they please. Actions need boundaries. However, in therapy, I believe that words don’t and that words shouldn’t, even if and when those words are offensive.
File under: The Art of Psychotherapy, Musings and Reflections
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Where did that come from, I thought to myself. She had historically been so agreeable — almost too agreeable. I often wished she would occasionally say something offensive. I let these thoughts percolate as I considered how to proceed. I am trained to think twice before answering a question directly. Questions are fodder for the therapeutic process. I decided to delve deeper by responding with a few questions of my own. “How would you know if you did? What would it mean to you if I felt hurt? Have other people suggested that you’ve been offensive to them?”
A Therapist’s Secret Wish
I don’t let her know about my secret wish that she offer something offensive about me. Afterall, this was her process and I want to be careful not to project my feelings onto her, lest she become disagreeable to fulfill my aspirations for her instead of her own. That would defeat the entire purpose. Despite my success at navigating the conversation, my desire to be the recipient of a nasty comment did not abate. Perhaps I sound like a masochist who enjoys reveling in the psychological pain of being insulted. You might be thinking, is this a repetition compulsion? She should’ve gone to therapy to face her traumas not become a therapist to reenact them. Or maybe others would call me a martyr who sacrifices her own need for respect to keep her clients happy with her. She sounds Codependent. Is she in this for the right reasons? You might wonder.I definitely do not have a penchant for pain. When someone insults me, I do not like the way it feels. Despite my best efforts to hold them back, my eyes often fill with tears in response to even a minor slight. Like most humans, I protect myself valiantly when I feel judged or criticized. Were I, in actuality, to be a martyr for the sake of keeping my clients happy, it would actually be pretty devastating to hear negative feedback. It would mean they weren’t happy with me. Wouldn’t that defeat the entire purpose of the sacrifice?
Here’s the thing; I’m no masochist and I’m definitely not a martyr. However, I am invested in my clients. I believe that for my clients to heal, they need a space where they are free to say and be whatever and whoever they want — including offensive. I might be a sensitive person, however, when I’m in my therapist role, my feelings are only welcome if they are in service of the client. If they aren’t, I set them aside to work through later.
In my experience, clients don’t come to therapy to be rude or offensive, especially toward the therapist. They certainly don’t want to be perceived as an ingrate by someone whose job definition is to help them. They are often ashamed of their selfishness and deny it, not only in the therapy room, but in their lives. But here’s a little secret; if they leave part of themselves outside, then part of them won’t heal. For therapy to work, they need to give voice to all their thoughts and feelings, especially their most shameful ones.
As a therapist, it is my responsibility to make space for the repressed voices of my clients. Good therapy grants permission to express what, outside of therapy, might be labeled socially inappropriate. Lack of this permission can reinforce ineffective patterns of repressing feelings and increasing shame.
The therapeutic challenge comes when, in instances such as this one, my own feelings are at stake. It’s relatively simple to support a client when their complaints are about “other things.” However, when their pain might be related to me, even if I had no intention to hurt them and despite the feeling that they are nitpicking, I feel obligated to face the Herculean task of supporting them just the same. Indeed, this selfless endeavor may be the most important and impactful act of therapy. If I can respond to an insult with curiosity, receive negative feedback without defensiveness, and authentically validate the valid, then I am giving my clients full permission to shamelessly express themselves. I cannot think of a better way to convey unconditional acceptance. But don’t get me wrong, I’m not giving permission for people to act how they please. Actions need boundaries. However, in therapy, I believe that words don’t and that words shouldn’t, even if and when those words are offensive.
***
So, as I think again about yesterday, I hope I can find a way to convey this message, “no, dear client, you didn’t offend me, but I hope that one day you feel strong enough to take that risk. And when you do, I will not abandon or reject you. Instead, I will be honored that this vulnerable and precious part is finally brave enough to join us in session.”
Questions for Reflection and Discussion
In what ways is the therapist’s attitude in this essay similar or dissimilar from your own?
How do you address situations where your client offends you?
In what clinical circumstances might you NOT address a client’s offensive behavior?
File under: The Art of Psychotherapy, Musings and Reflections