{"id":443,"date":"2012-02-05T23:26:11","date_gmt":"2012-02-06T04:26:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/rittenhousewritersgroup.com\/wordpress\/?page_id=443"},"modified":"2015-08-10T08:53:32","modified_gmt":"2015-08-10T13:53:32","slug":"stories-from-the-conscious-life","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/www.rittenhousewritersgroup.com\/wordpress\/stories-from-the-conscious-life\/","title":{"rendered":"Stories from the Conscious Life"},"content":{"rendered":"<div id='stb-container-7254' class='stb-container-css stb-alert-container stb-no-caption stb-image-none stb-ltr stb-shadow stb-side-none'><aside class='stb-icon'><img src='http:\/\/test.rittenhousewritersgroup.com\/wordpress\/wp-content\/plugins\/wp-special-textboxes\/images\/alert-b.png'><\/aside><div id='stb-box-7254' class='stb-alert_box stb-box' ><\/p>\n<p style=\"text-align: center;\"><em><strong>Stories from the Conscious Life<\/strong><\/em><strong><br \/>\nby James Rahn<\/strong><br \/>\n<strong>PCOP Interpreter essay<\/strong><\/div><\/div>\n<p>I was the guy on the academic track in my class at the Psychodynamic Psychotherapy Training Program. I was the guy with the asterisk by his name on the attendance sheet. Alas, the eternal asterisk. (Still, there\u2019s pride in being marginal.) I was the non-clinician in a room of practicing therapists. As such I couldn\u2019t contribute case material, unless I made it up.<\/p>\n<p>I fairly loved the PPTP. I say \u201cfairly\u201d because love is a worrisome word to me and usually needs a modifier. But the truth is the Program is a fabulous education\u2015perhaps the best education I\u2019ve ever had, and I\u2019ve been through some pretty darn good schools. But the caveat here (like the eternal asterisk) is the danger for the academician to get bitten by the clinician bug. Because then each week, without clinical material to share, each week can become a tiny torment, a slight castration (slight?) metaphorically, and that\u2019s what happened to me. I wanted the theory and abstraction to be reified. I wanted to be where the rubber meets the road. I wanted to be onstage with actual patients, to feel the experience, and I was fortunate enough to meet Chuck Giannasio who connected me to Larry Real at Belmont, who told me to phone Nancy Beck\u2015director of volunteer services there.<\/p>\n<p>I met with Nancy and told her my background. I\u2019m a teacher and writer. For twenty years I\u2019ve run the Rittenhouse Writers\u2019 Group\u2015a series of fiction writing workshops. I taught at Penn for fifteen years. I\u2019ve published a bunch of stories. I told Nancy that I approach writing analytically, critically; I think about characters on the page in a psychodynamic way; I push students to hone their writing. She told me that wasn\u2019t what she wanted. She wanted to use writing therapeutically, not in an analytical way. Perhaps people wouldn\u2019t tolerate the criticism. I felt balky at first; this wasn\u2019t what I taught; this wasn\u2019t what I was learning at the Psychoanalytic Center. But I wanted to have the clinical experience, and so of course I made the change. Nancy decided to put me with the mood-disorder patients.<\/p>\n<p>So, last January, I began participating in an hour-long Friday group therapy session using writing as therapy. The group is coordinated by a terrific occupational therapist, Stacey Saleff. It\u2019s her group. I\u2019m the hired-gun, though I\u2019m a volunteer.<\/p>\n<p>Stacey and I established a framework: we\u2019d give a writing prompt, then the participants would write for fifteen minutes, then they\u2019d read aloud and we\u2019d discuss their pieces. I\u2019d make some comments about how to sharpen their writing. We\u2019d look for common experiences that people could share.<\/p>\n<p>The first day I was nervous (though I\u2019m usually nervous before a new class). But this was different. I wanted to really embrace the experience. I wanted to be helpful to the folks. I didn\u2019t want to embarrass myself after so much analytic theory. I felt\u2026uncertain. But then I\u2019ve learned: one must tolerate the uncertainty; one must sit with one\u2019s disturbing emotions.<\/p>\n<p>There were eight people in a common-room when we arrived. Everybody seemed downcast, gloomy. One man looked furious. The gloomy mood hit me\u2015my first clinical countertransference. Of course, I thought, these are the mood-disorder folks: teary-eyed, anxious, angry, depressed.<\/p>\n<p>Stacey gave me a glowing introduction and I smiled and spoke briefly about myself. Then I gave them our prearranged topic: Write about a memory, a \u201cmoment-of-being\u201d (Virginia Woolf)\u2015i.e., a moment where you suddenly understood something differently, something that perhaps a parent or friend had tried to convey to you for years. A change, an insight. Make it a positive change. Put some emotion into it. The people looked nonplused. I repeated what I said, then I added jokingly, \u201cNobody fails this assignment. Everybody passes or gets an A. Write whatever you want; I don\u2019t care. Just make it sincere.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>So they wrote for fifteen minutes. Most people. A couple just stared into the winter sky.<\/p>\n<p>There are windows looking out on Monument Avenue with an American flag pulsing in the breeze. There are windows facing the main corridor. I studied other accouterments in the room. The walls are putty-hued; call it hospital chic. There\u2019s a TV, exercise bike, upright piano, a big clock on the wall, a round table with jigsaw puzzle pieces on it, piles of New Yorkers, and a sarcophagus-like, stand-alone closet in a corner.<\/p>\n<p>I felt the heat in the room as I sat there waiting. I listened to the shuddering, humming radiator. The clock ticked behind me and I wanted to know the time. Sit with the uncertainty and the disturbing emotions. After fifteen minutes I asked the people to stop writing. Then I asked them to read what they had written. They hesitated a bit. I felt sweat start to bead on my neck. Still I pushed them to read or speak about their memories.<\/p>\n<p>A couple people read exquisite, intimate, heartfelt memories, filled with lyrical language (after fifteen minutes!). One young woman talked about how her father finally told her he loved her after his twenty years of being a junkie. Another woman spoke about how she found the right meds that stopped her from hearing voices. Some people didn\u2019t read. I tried to get everyone involved. I learn names fast, so I called on everyone. For the most part everybody got involved and the mood changed, and it became exciting.<\/p>\n<p>For the first few weeks I gave people exercises, always emphasizing the positive in their thoughts, but then I\u2019d get these descriptions of lovely beach scenes\u2015all shiny, glittery, sun-washed sand\u2015but nothing much to discuss afterwards. \u201cThat\u2019s nice,\u201d I\u2019d say. \u201cThat\u2019s really beautiful. Maybe if you decide to rewrite your piece you can add some more sensory details\u2015the sounds of the gulls, the smells in the air.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>For me, the therapeutic aspect and therefore my assignments felt saccharine and unreal. I wanted to unlock greater emotion. I wanted to balance the positive with the negative, the light with the dark, though the emphasis could be on the light. I asked Stacey if I could make a change. She said okay. Let\u2019s try it\u2015she nodded. Then I started giving people exercises like: write about a person viewing the ocean after something wonderful has happened to him, then contrast it with a description of the ocean after something tragic has happened. Don\u2019t mention the precipitating event. Let the details and how the person feels suggest it. People wrote longer with the oppositional approach. The discussions afterwards became more honest, vigorous.<\/p>\n<p>Then I started reading brief stories to the group\u2015always with a certain theme, say, a father\/son disconnection; some argument between a mother and daughter. I talked about the resiliency of the characters in the story. Then I\u2019d ask people to write what the stories inspired in them. I think the fact of reading stories to people can have a calming, nostalgic effect. I takes them back to childhood or an idyllic fantasy of it\u2015the great symbiosis between mother and child. Again I was impressed by the honesty of the writing. I\u2019d comment about how courageous the people were for presenting such poignant, intimate events. I didn\u2019t analyze, though I had many thoughts. Instead I spoke about how people might carry their problems a long time, and it took a long time for people to work them through.<\/p>\n<p>I\u2019m also attentive to the group dynamics\u2015the mood lability\u2015that rolls like a wave. One person starts crying; several people start crying. One person reads an anecdote about his parents teaching him how to tie his shoes, his parents start fighting and leave the room, and he laces his own shoes. He says, \u201cI learned that I could do things for myself. I didn\u2019t need my parents to solve m problems.\u201d Everyone is suddenly upbeat, smiling.<\/p>\n<p>I\u2019ve made mistakes in my efforts to help people. I\u2019ve been ironic and challenging and people have gotten upset. I\u2019ve had to back off, or Stacey has bailed me out. It\u2019s a good thing that we get along. It wouldn\u2019t work if we didn\u2019t get along. I\u2019ve read stories to folks that have distressed them. Then I have to amplify the positivity. One time I read a piece about a little girl skipping through the woods when she suddenly discovers some human bones. I talked about how bold the little girl was, and how this revelation would help carry her to her future. One guy cried, \u201cBullshit!\u201d He was partly right. But another person disagreed and said, \u201cThat was a great story that James read; dark, yes, but I\u2019m tired of having things sugarcoated. That\u2019s how I ended up in here. Everyone was always sugarcoating something.\u201d The majority agreed. The group rallied for me.<\/p>\n<p>At Belmont I see how hurt people are. There are people on the ward with acute problems: a young mother whose child has recently died; an investor who\u2019s lost his money and can\u2019t stop thinking about it; and there are the chronic sufferers, usually undone by a parent\u2019s lack of love for them, or their perception of it, and how they hate themselves but still want their parent\u2019s love.<\/p>\n<p>I think of Fairbairn and how a bad object is better than no object at all. I met one man who, at the age of six, accidentally bumped his brother out an open window and killed him. I listened to a woman who was enduring the first anniversary of her son\u2019s murder. All I could think at that moment was, \u201cWow.\u201d This was beyond my experience and I wanted to change the subject, move on to another person and hear his or her story. But I remembered my training, and sat with the emotion.<\/p>\n<p>Then I told them that their revelations were another step in their recovery. I emphasized how courageous they were. Not very analytical. But what can I truly say to them in the brief time I\u2019m there? I have to be careful not to unsettle people, leave them upset over the weekend or before they\u2019re discharged. What I do say is how appreciative I am that they allow me to hear such intimate stories. And I mean it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>I was the guy on the academic track in my class at the Psychodynamic Psychotherapy Training Program. I was the &hellip;<\/p>\n<p><a href=\"https:\/\/www.rittenhousewritersgroup.com\/wordpress\/stories-from-the-conscious-life\/\">Continue reading &raquo;<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-443","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rittenhousewritersgroup.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/443","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rittenhousewritersgroup.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rittenhousewritersgroup.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rittenhousewritersgroup.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.rittenhousewritersgroup.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=443"}],"version-history":[{"count":10,"href":"https:\/\/www.rittenhousewritersgroup.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/443\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":681,"href":"https:\/\/www.rittenhousewritersgroup.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/443\/revisions\/681"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.rittenhousewritersgroup.com\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=443"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}