Some schools of thought (the more traditional ones) hold that self-disclosure is counterproductive in therapy. The therapist is meant to be a blank slate, or at least ambiguous enough, so that the client's projections and assumptions are brought to the fore. Processing and healing projections and assumptions are very useful therapy goals.
However, the problem comes when the projections and assumptions can't be processed and healed because the client doesn't trust the therapist enough to be that vulnerable, largely because the therapist is such a blank slate.
Other schools of thought (more progressive ones) believe that a strict resistance to self-disclose on the part of the therapist heightens the power differential in therapy, which is considered counterproductive.
The power differential exists because a therapist has credentials, and they give input about you and your life, and it's their space, and you're paying them, so whether subtle and overt, the therapist has a position of power in the room.
Some therapists cultivate and use this, to great effect. They clearly make themselves the expert in the room, and that's exactly what some clients want. A close friend of mine uses this approach, and it works great both for her and her clients. She teaches them stuff. They like that.
It makes me tetchy.
I'm oriented differently. I value the lived experiences of both me and my client over the expert knowledge I was given in training. I believe that the client already knows what they need to know to heal themselves and have a great life, but their knowledge has been discounted, devalued, marginalized. I want them to tap into their wisdom and trust themselves. I feel that just teaching them would reinforce the idea that what they know isn't enough.
Am I perfect about it? No way. Plenty of times I find myself lecturing clients or giving input of an expert sort. I feel it happens in moments of unclarity or weakness. Many of my clients don't seem to mind or notice, but I do, and I try to do better.
And, that said, there are times when someone is just missing a piece of useful information. Occasionally.
And besides, I write this column. Writing a column is pretty expert-ish behavior, though my core intention remains to validate the slings and arrows of proper socialization by offering insight and support for your normalcy. In other words, to remind you that you're not crazy, which doesn't take expert knowledge.
As far as self-disclosure, I'm not particularly resistant to it. I find it comes up very little in the room. Most clients aren't that interested. Some are but don't ask questions because they think they "aren't supposed to."
The guiding star to answering any self-disclosure question is whether sharing the information is actually good for the client's process. If so, OK. Otherwise, it would just make the conversation momentarily about me, shifting the dynamic, detracting from their work and possibly damaging the sense of safety in the room.
It's a balancing act. Sharing enough (or just being willing to) to build respect and trust, but not so much that it diminishes the potential of the work.
In this column, I've avoided doing much self-disclosure, because whatever I write here is available to past, present and future clients. It isn't situation- or client-specific, so my guiding star isn't helpful. I can't control the information. I can't discern whether it's helpful or not. So I've held back a lot, and I'm starting to worry that when I write things like...
Insecurity is, in essence, feeling inadequate, partly due to laziness and immaturity....like I did last week, it sounds judgmental and pompous. I really don't mean it that way. In fact, I can say that almost without exception, anytime I get snarky in this column, it's because I'm describing an issue that I struggle with myself.
Yes, of course I've got insecurities. And they're stupid (mine, not yours). And I have a tough time having compassion for those parts of myself that are lazy and immature in those moments.
What I know from being a therapist is that everything we do makes sense and is geared toward something positive. If we self-sabotage, for instance, it's because some part of us is scared, and has very good reason to be, but for whatever reason we pressure ourselves unreasonably to ignore our fear. Or, it may be that in the past we had good reason to be scared, but those days are gone and that part of us hasn't caught up yet. In any case, there's a good reason. It makes sense.
It's easy to apply this understanding to my clients, and it's harder to apply it to myself. Sometimes I can, sometimes I can't. There's no finish line with some of this stuff. That's OK with me. I'd rather be human, flawed and even bumbling sometimes, than a perfect blank slate.
So there's a little self-disclosure for you, and perhaps there will be more to come.
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