May 2021
Some years ago I had a client who believed he was possessed by the devil. He’d been sexually abused by the Roman Catholic parish priest in England as a child and was left with what could’ve otherwise been described as panic attacks that consisted of violent shivering, at various points of his life. He interpreted the shivering as demonic possession. No amount of trying to redefine his symptoms was having any effect at all, and, frankly, I was at a loss as to where to proceed.
Then it struck me in the middle of the night, as it often does, that I should propose we prepare for an exorcism. Having studied Theology and Church rubrics many years ago, I was sort of familiar with what that might look like, but the whole idea filled me with trepidation. I was suggesting something that scared me. What if this experiment went horribly wrong?
When his next appointment came around, I put my proposal to him. He thought this was a good idea, and so we began identifying the symbolic items that might form part of an exorcist ceremony. Did we need holy water, a cross, a sacred icon? What specifically spoke to him? We went into great detail in the shaping of this ceremony, but part way through that session (the exorcism was to take place at the next appointment), my client sat up and said, “I don’t need to do this anymore. I feel good. I feel like the devil has left me.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness, I thought.
This whole process taught me a fundamental truth, that using experimentation in the therapeutic environment is extraordinarily powerful. It’s a central truth, that experiencing something teaches us much more than merely talking about, or analysing, that something. I’d already known that talking with my client about his symptoms wasn’t changing anything. His anxiety levels remained the same. But taking the path of actually preparing for possibly a life changing event had profound effect.
What was critical here, was to take the client’s concerns very seriously and to be prepared for entering that space, without flinching. He knew I was serious, and thus he entered the arena of his own anxiety. He owned it, and he knew I was with him where we were safe.
Experimentation in the therapeutic space needs to be safe and secure and for the therapist to check with the client that the direction chosen feels appropriate. It should also have enough energy within itself to remain interesting to the client. There is no point attempting to go where the client has lost interest, or that the whole thing feels too massive and fills the client with fear. Gently, gently, is the principle.
It’s sort of like adding, bit by bit, a titration of a change agent to an existing mindset, so that what was once a problem isn’t anymore. The thing about it, though, is that the outcome cannot fully be predicted. It is an experiment, after all, and some experiments fail. That’s the beauty of it, actually. It’s a risk, but it has the potential to radically change things for the client.
Experiments, in therapy, can be much less dramatic than the one described above. It may simply consist of suggesting the client does gentle breathing exercise, or sounds a note, or starts to dance, or draws a dream, or engages in script therapy, or does some active imagination, or empty chair work, or any other manner of appropriate things, anything that brings a sense of safe supportive engagement in the here and now of experience. It is the trying of something new to see what will happen. It is the lived experience of something that can sometimes be otherwise a little too abstract and intellectually remote to effectively integrate.
It is a wonderful privilege for a therapist to be part of a client’s healing journey. Experimenting in that journey brings me delight, especially when I see the lifting of what was previously problematic, smoothing out into acceptance. It’s there in their whole demeanour, they’re relaxed and able to move forward comfortably.
