Relationship Counselling - Sons and Their Mothers

A Person-Centred Dialogue

Richard Bryant-Jefferies

• Publisher: CRC Press
• Year: 2018
• ISBN:
  9781315345345
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Médecine
• Subtopic: Théorie, pratique et référence de la médecine

Young men trying to resolve traumatic experiences and relationship issues with their mothers is not an area that has attracted a great deal of attention, and yet it is not uncommon.

Peter is 28, still living at home and feeling 'like I just don't have a life I can call my own.' As he tries to remedy this, the reaction he gets is ""So, where have you been?"; "What time do you call this?"; "I've been worrying about you";"You said you'd be back before now." Any pleasure from his evening melts away and he wonders why on earth is he still in the same house as her.

This book uses fictitious dialogue to enable readers to experience the struggle of a young man trying to break free from the damaging and dominating influence of his mother. It contains both counselling sessions and supervision sessions, inviting the reader to step into the therapeutic process and experience Peter (the client) as he struggles to create a life for himself, Michael (his counsellor) seeking to offer and maintain the therapeutic conditions of congruence, empathy and unconditional positive regard, and Suzy (Michael's supervisor).

Practical advice, reflections on the counselling process, helpful summaries and points for discussion are highlighted throughout. Counsellors, trainees, supervisors and other health and social care professionals dealing with relationships will find this book valuable reading. Men who have encountered difficult relationships with their mothers are also likely to gain greater insight and find support through reading this book.

CHAPTER 1

Counselling session 1: beginnings and introductions

1 September

Michael worked privately for a couple of employee assistance programmes through which he received most of his referrals and saw most clients at a therapy centre. He also had a session at an NHS surgery locally. He enjoyed the contrasting work, a mixture of short-term and longer-term working and with a variety of issues: work-related, health-related and through his private work a quite diverse range. He had come into counselling after attending a workshop on relationship and listening skills. His interest had been sparked in the whole notion of ‘therapeutic relationship’ – what did it mean, how did it work? Following a general training course he had decided to focus on the theory and practice of the person- or client-centred approach. It was the one that he felt at home with. It fitted well with his own developing thoughts around the healing and transformative power of relationship, that if people are psychologically and emotionally damaged by unhealthy relational experiences then surely there was a case for healthy relational experience to offer a healing process. The therapeutic power of a relational experience with someone who was offering authenticity, warm acceptance and empathy struck a chord. It made sense. And his own experience in his training and therapy served to reinforce this idea.

He was due to see his new client, Peter, who had referred himself privately and they had met the previous week for a brief session. Peter had found Michael’s name on the British Association for the Person-Centred Approach (BAPCA) website. He’d reached a point in his life where he wanted change. He knew he wasn’t happy. He’d been doing some searches for counselling and the site had come up on the listing. He rather liked the information about what was being described – something called the person-centred approach. It sounded nonthreatening. He didn’t want someone endlessly analysing his every word, and he didn’t want someone telling him what to do. He just felt he needed a bit of space to talk to someone, make sense of things, make some changes perhaps.

Peter had contacted Michael and they had agreed to have that preliminary session, so that Michael could explain what counselling was, what he could offer, how he worked, and for them to agree whether they felt they could work together. Michael had felt good about Peter from the start although he had been struck immediately by his hesitancy and seeming lack of confidence.

What had emerged was that Peter was struggling in many areas of his life: work, relationships, family matters. Peter hadn’t given all the details but Michael was left feeling that there were unspoken concerns and he was left speculating as to what they might be. He didn’t make any comment at the time; he trusted his clients to introduce topics, experiences, concerns when they felt ready and able to do so. He didn’t push his clients along and certainly was not into directing them towards something that was simply speculation on his part. He strongly believed in the therapeutic potency of the non-directive element within the person-centred approach. So as he now waited for Peter to arrive for their first counselling session he was aware that his thoughts had drifted back to that previous meeting.

An essential feature of the person-centred approach to counselling and therapy is its non-directive nature. Indeed Carl Rogers, who formulated this theoretical approach, initially placed emphasis on the non-directive element. Merry (2002) cites Rogers’ book, Counselling and Psychotherapy: newer concepts in practice (1942), as the publication in which ‘Rogers’ own emphasis and “non-directive counselling” became visible’. Rogers (1942) made the point that ‘nondirective counselling is based on the assumption that the client has the right to select his own life goals, even though these may be at variance with the goals that the counsellor might choose for him’ and that ‘the nondirective viewpoint places a high value on the right of every individual to be psychologically independent and to maintain his psychological integrity’. Within person-centred therapy the client is allowed the space and time to take their own direction, to introduce the material that they wish to into the session and, at their own pace, to draw their own conclusions, attribute their own meanings and interpretations, within the warm, relational acceptance offered by the person-centred counsellor.

Michael had sensed that Peter had been quite guarded, not that that was particularly unusual. Clients often held back, particularly if for whatever reason they were not comfortable with trusting other people. After all, why should he, a perfect stranger. He felt he would need to earn Peter’s trust. So, he sat and waited, glancing at the clock and noting that the time for the start of the session had nearly arrived.

The intercom buzzed; it was the receptionist.

‘Your client has arrived, Michael.’

‘Thanks. I’ll come out to him.’

Michael walked out of the counselling room and down the corridor to the reception area. Peter was sitting, somewhat awkwardly perched on the edge of the seat.

He was dressed in rather a mixture of unmatching colours and altogether seemed somehow incongruous in some way. He stood up immediately he saw Michael.

‘Er, hallo.’

‘Hi, Peter, come on through.’ Michael nodded an appreciation to the receptionist as he followed Peter along the corridor. ‘First room on the right, like last week.’

Where there is a walk to the counselling room, who goes first? Often the counsellor will lead the way, yet sometimes the client may be invited to walk in front. It may not seem significant, but it can be. It is always worth the counsellor checking what the client prefers.

Peter entered the room and sat down in the soft blue chair on the right. He noted the small table with the lamp on it, the two pictures on the walls and the curtains that were drawn across the window, a darker blue that matched the carpet. It all seemed very ordered and somehow enhanced his own sense of dis- orderliness, although he wasn’t thinking in quite those terms. The reality was, for Peter, that he simply felt uneasy and unsettled, unsure of what he was doing. He was nervous, well, anxious was perhaps more accurate. He’d come straight from work – hadn’t said anything at home about where he was going, just that he was working late. Knew he’d get an interrogation if he’d said anything. Just felt he needed to get some space for himself, think things through, make sense of himself.

Michael had sat down opposite him. He heard him comment on what he had said the previous week about confidentiality and that he hoped Peter would find it helpful to use the time they had, and that it was his time to bring whatever he wanted to the counselling sessions.

Peter could feel his heart thumping a little more, and he felt a kind of cold sweat breaking out. He’d felt that way the previous week, though somehow this was worse. He’d met Michael and they had talked generally about counselling, what he could offer, all the practical details really. Now, well, now it was for real. Now he had to try and use this time, but in truth he didn’t know how. He didn’t know what to say or how to say it. He just knew he felt his life was miserable, going nowhere and he knew he needed to make some change, but felt unable to do so.

Peter was aware of the silence that had followed Michael’s voice and his last comment: ‘So, how can I help?’

Peter sat; he was looking at the picture on the wall opposite – a vase of yellow flowers. He could feel himself counting the petals on one of the flower heads. He brought his attention back though he wasn’t sure what to focus on.

‘I – er, well, I’m not sure what to say or where to begin.’

He watched Michael nodding in response. ‘Mhmm, hard to know where to start, what to say – kind of difficult to begin.’ He spoke fairly quietly though clearly, and waited. He could see Peter’s discomfort – at least, that was how he interpreted his facial expression and body language. He thought about responding to the non-verbal communication but set it aside, at least for the moment. He didn’t want to direct Peter into his body language when, perhaps, a thought process or a feeling might be emerging that was different. So he waited, taking a deep breath as he did so.

Peter heard Michael breathing deeply. He sighed. ‘Where to begin? Guess it’s a long story. You’ve no doubt heard it many times from other people …’

‘I’ve heard many stories but yours will be unique to you. I’d really like to hear whatever you feel you want to say.’ Michael meant what he said. It wasn’t, for him, some standardised counselling response. He didn’t believe in that.

A key factor in person-centred counselling is that the counsellor speaks from their own genuineness within the therapeutic relationship. What Michael says here may be the same words as another therapist might use, but what is important is that they are meant, they are congruent. Michael recognises Peter’s uniqueness, it is real to him, and he genuinely wants to hear what Peter has to say.

Peter sensed a genuineness in Michael’s voice, almost as though he really did want to hear. But no, that was stupid, no one was really that interested, not in him. And yet…

Michael waited. He knew how sensitive these open moments of a counselling session could be, how tempting it could be to push the client into talking, or to give them a focus by unwittingly directing them in some way – which could simply be motivated from an unrecognised desire in the counsellor to reduce tension. The need for the counsellor to know him or herself, to be able to discern what is present and why, while remaining responsive to the client, he knew could be challenging. But that was part of the professional discipline of applying the person-centred approach to therapy.

‘I’m 28, still living at home and feeling, I don’t know, like I just don’t have a life I can call my own.’ The words kind of blurted out when they came, leaving Michael very affected by the intensity of what was being said. Michael nodded, but did not have a chance to say anything. Peter was continuing. ‘It’s like, I don’t know …’ He returned to silence and stared at the curtain. Peter had protruded his lower lip as he sat there, his mouth closed. There was tension in his upper lip as he clamped it down. He took a deep breath. He was feeling cold inside, like a damp mist had descended inside the pit of his stomach.

‘Sounds painful, not feeling you have a life of your own.’ Michael noted the seeming tension in Peter’s facial expression. He felt that edge in himself that he often felt with a new client who was starting out to share his life and his concerns. Never being quite sure how the counselling relationship would develop and what material would emerge left Michael with that sense of raised tension inside himself that was familiar. He didn’t feel a need to try and lose it; in a way it told him that, for him, he was focused and connecting with his client.

Peter heard the words but he was in another place. His mind had drifted back to an incident earlier in the week. He’d gone out with a woman from work – Melanie – they’d gone to the pictures for the evening. It wasn’t something Peter often did, but, well, he’d decided he needed to do something. It had sort of followed on from booking himself in for the counselling sessions. That had somehow made him feel a little different, like he was taking some kind of control, or something, back in his life. Like he was doing something for himself. So he’d asked her out and they’d gone out after work. He’d said he’d be late back. In fact he was later than he had expected – they’d gone for a meal before the film. Ended up watching a later showing. He’d really enjoyed himself, and it had been a good film too. And then he’d dropped Melanie back home – she shared a house with some other female friends – and then headed off home himself.

The moment he’d walked through the door he’d got grief. ‘So, where have you been? What time do you call this? I’ve been worrying about you. You said you’d be back before now.’

Peter could feel the pleasure of his evening melt away, like it just dissolved into the ether and from feeling good and having a warm smile, he suddenly felt so small, and so desperately unhappy. It was not a new feeling and one that he experienced all too frequently. And yet, in the context of his evening, this time it seemed more acute.

He’d tried to explain but his mother didn’t want to know, didn’t want to acknowledge that he, Peter, had enjoyed his evening. It was all about her, what effect it had had on her. Even though he had said he’d be late, clearly being later than expected was unacceptable. He went to his room and wondered why on earth he was still in the same house as her. He knew he didn’t need to be. He had a good job, he could afford to move out, move on, but he never had. Suppose it had all become something of a habit, though he had been flicking through the property pages, and was considering at least renting something for himself, something small, somewhere he could call his own.

‘You look so lost in your thoughts, Peter.’ He heard Michael’s voice. It brought him back into the counselling room.

Oh, yes, sorry, miles away.’ He smiled weakly. It somehow seemed hard to tell Michael about his thoughts. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe because he was a man. But then, well, he wasn’t too sure that he could have told a woman either.

‘Is it something you’d like to talk about?’ Michael made the invitation. He knew that he was perhaps encouraging Peter to maybe feel obliged to talk about his thoughts, and yet he justified it in that he wasn’t taking Peter’s focus away from what he was experiencing, merely inviting him to bring it visibly into their relationship in the room.

Oh, it’s my mother, that’s what it’s all about. She just can’t stop interfering in my life, telling me what to do, what not to do. Always organising me, telling me what I like, what’s good for me. And she can be so critical – particularly when we are alone. When other people are there, she seems to be constantly singing my praises, though usually with reference to herself, how she has helped me be successful in my work, how she brought me up to not have the kind of problems that others have.’ He shook his head. ‘Wish I had a few problems – life might be a bit more bloody exciting.’ He looked up. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s OK, you’d like your life to be a bit more bloody exciting.’ Michael matched Peter in his tone of voice, a kind of frustrated yearning for something, anything, to be different.

Matching tone of voice is an important element in empathic responding, along with matching the actual use of language, particularly where words are spoken with intensity. A client swears; does the therapist use the same language? What if it is language the counsellor finds offensive? Where possible, keep with the client’s language. If the counsellor cannot, then for reasons of congruence this may need to be highlighted to the client and/or taken to supervision. It must not be forgotten that the client chooses the words they need to use to describe their inner world. The therapist needs the client to know that they have been heard. However, where the content of what is being said is genuinely offensive to the counsellor – racist or sexist comments, for instance – then the counsellor is at liberty to acknowledge the client’s view but may well want to express their own, particularly if what is being said is impacting on the counsellor’s ability to listen to the client and to experience warmth towards them.

Peter nodded. ‘Yes. I mean, my life, what is it? I go to work. Yes, I’m good at what I do. Co...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Foreword
• Preface
• About the author
• Acknowledgements
• Introduction
• Chapter 1
• Chapter 2
• Chapter 3
• Chapter 4
• Chapter 5
• Chapter 6
• Chapter 7
• Chapter 8
• Chapter 9
• Epilogue
• References
• Useful contacts
• Index