Wednesday, 24 October 2018

An Uncommon Therapy by Dr Elizabeth McCardell, M. Couns, Ph


November 2018

     Uncommon Therapy, the Psychiatric Techniques of Milton H. Erickson, is the title of a book  by Jay Haley on the strategies and practices of Erickson, the father of modern hypnotherapy.  Fundamental to how Erickson worked was just getting to know how the patient thought and interacted in their world, their potential, the things that mattered to them and then utilizing this knowledge in therapy. For him, the patient was unique, first and foremost. He said that the therapist needs to be flexible conceptually and behaviourally to respect, respond, or redirect the patient’s potential to the full benefit of themselves.
     A lot of therapeutic practices are driven by theory and preconceived classifications and notions of what good therapy should be so the perspectives of the therapist tends to dominate where the therapy goes.  I’m thinking here of certain aspects of psychoanalysis, or the medical model and increasingly the health insurance model that utilizes psychiatric classifications of mood and behavioural problems as set entities, or the idea that mere symptom control is sufficient in every situation, or that therapy needs to be swift and superficial all the times, etc. For some  practitioners of these one-size-fits-all therapies, an alternative model based on the fact that each case, each person, is unique tends to be seen as bizarre.
     Erickson (1901-1980), an American psychiatrist and psychotherapist, went elsewhere. He chose a therapeutic approach particular to the individuality of the person before him and worked that way. Unique people require unique therapeutic approaches that utilize their uniqueness and we are all unique. This took the form of traditional sessions in his consulting room, or he insisted a client climb a particular Arizonian peak or visit a botanic garden, or he invited his patient to watch television at a set time each day with his family (shock, horror), or to work in his garden, or home visits, and so on. This was very much uncommon therapy. It was flexible, it listened to the hang-ups, the foibles, the strengths, the frailties, the needs as well as the non-needs of each person and utilized them.  But before doing therapy of this kind, Erickson needed to be with the person’s experience, to listen, to question, to get a feel for the person.
     It is interesting that, in a desire to practically bottle Erickson’s presence and approach, numerous of his followers tried to pin what he did down to a formulation of his style and personality to be imitated by others, as though this was even possible. Erickson, like you, like me, was unique. He lived according to himself. He could not hear tonality in speech and music was dead to him, he was colour blind (able to see only the colour purple), he had been crippled by polio and post-polio syndrome in his 50s, he was talented, flawed, obstinate, highly intelligent, dogged, frail, methodical, practical, scientific even. What he did was listen to what people said and how they said it, he interacted with them (and the therapeutic relationship is critical to effective work), he supported, he created safety, he held back from getting in the way of good therapy and he did what was required. But not always. He sometimes missed the mark, just like all therapists.
     His was an uncommon therapy. He used a more traditional hypnotic induction techniques in his work, but not always. Sometimes he just did an ordinary act differently in order to get a person out of their conditioned, trancelike way of thinking. Sometimes he just talked of ordinary things a patient loved to do, like growing tomatoes that had the effect of reconnecting the person to other parts of their lives and thus initiating their psychological healing. In other words, Erickson played with the known and the unknown and thus stimulated change.
     I like Erickson’s thinking and the freedom he has brought to me through his writing and my contact with therapists trained by him to work according to the me-ness of me, and not as a tired imitation of him, or anybody else. This is what drives me: to meet with my patients where they are and where I am in these unchartered waters of an uncommon therapy and work there effectively.