Small Wonders

Healing Childhood Trauma With EMDR

Joan Lovett

• Publisher: Free Press
• Year: 2010
• ISBN:
  9781439137383
• Topic: Psychology
• Subtopic: History & Theory in Psychology
• Index: Psychology

Childhood can be an exciting time, full of joyous exploration, new skills, friends, and imaginative play. It can also be very frightening, especially when children have experiences that threaten their feelings of safety and well-being. Even common traumatic childhood events can deeply affect children's normal healthy development, their self-esteem, and their families. Many behavioral problems stemming from common traumatic events could require years of psychotherapy or medication. That is, they did -- until the advent of EMDR. Developed by psychologist Francine Shapiro in the late 1980s, EMDR had already helped thousands of adult clients when Joan Lovett experienced its healing power firsthand.
Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) is a comprehensive therapeutic approach that helps patients release disturbing thoughts and emotions that originate in traumatic experiences. Experiences can be traumatic in the commonly accepted sense -- abuse, disasters, violence -- but children may also perceive and respond to more ordinary events as very threatening. A playground accident, the loss of a loved one, school problems, or choking on a piece of popcorn can be a part of growing up. They can also be critical incidents that cause a child to view him- or herself as helpless or powerless, to become fearful, and to develop debilitating behavioral problems.
In Small Wonders: Healing Childhood Trauma with EMDR, Joan Lovett, M.D., shares engaging clinical stories -- mysteries involving children who present her with puzzling and disturbing behaviors. She imaginatively focuses her knowledge of pediatrics, play therapy, and EMDR to alleviate the real-life ordeals of real-life children.
Featuring a foreword by Francine Shapiro, Small Wonders is the most comprehensive and insightful book to explore the potential of EMDR for child therapy. This enlightening book is intended for parents who are concerned with having their children feel confident, for adults who want insights into the way the events of their childhood shaped their self-image, and for professionals who want to know more about EMDR and how it can be adapted to meet the special needs of traumatized children.

PART I UNDERSTANDING TRAUMA

They all have one thing in common: Through therapy and EMDR, these children were able to use their own special, inner “magic,” to reclaim their power and sense of self, and to get back on a healthy developmental track. These children, and many more like them, continue to amaze and inspire me with their courage, strength, creativity, and uniqueness. I call this book Small Wonders in their honor.

1 “WHY AM I AFRAID OF THE SOUND OF CARROTS CRUNCHING?”

Why would a bright 5-year-old boy suddenly become withdrawn and stop learning in preschool? Why would an athletic and confident 12-year-old have so much trouble falling asleep at night that she feared spending the night at a friend’s house or going to camp? Why would an 11-year-old boy feel guilty about a death he didn’t cause? And why would a successful, high-functioning doctor and parent suddenly become acutely sensitive to the sound of her children crunching carrots and chips?

As a behavioral pediatrician, I work to shed light on mysteries like these every day, to find the cause of behavioral problems that seem to come out of the blue. In my work I am continually amazed by my “small wonders,” children who are able to reclaim their own innate power and heal from the traumatic events that abruptly knocked them off their smooth developmental track.

Some of the events that precipitate these developmental disruptions are clearly upsetting—a robbery, a car accident, a death in the family. But many initially appear to be minor occurrences, so that parents never notice them, or discount them automatically as too inconsequential to mention. Yet these everyday incidents—a news report on TV, a child’s game of “Doctor,” a chance comment overheard—can be enormous and life-changing to a child. And that is where the mystery begins.

When one parent gave me permission to include her family’s story in my book, she said, “When my daughter had these problems, we couldn’t find any information that helped us. We went to the bookstore and the library, but we couldn’t find any book that explained what was going on with our child or how to help her. We thought she must have some unusual, weird problem or that we were doing something terribly wrong as parents. We wish we had known what we know now.” Her words resonated strongly with me. Some years ago, like the little girl, I had experienced a similar terror of unknowing; and, like her parents, I had also experienced the frustration and isolation of being unable to convince medical professionals that something was really wrong.

AN ACCIDENTAL ENCOUNTER WITH POSTTRAUMATIC STRESS

In 1991 my life changed forever when I suffered serious physical injuries and almost died in an automobile accident. It was just after midnight, and I was driving home from a late call at a hospital, where I had admitted and treated one of my patients, an infant who needed emergency help. I was feeling very good about myself and the kind of work I was doing, and what I had accomplished earlier that evening. With my work complete, I was eager to get home to my husband and two young children. As I started the drive home on that dark night, I was glad it wasn’t raining and that the roads were relatively clear.

As I approached a curve in the freeway, not far from home, in the distance I noticed a car stopped on the shoulder. As I rounded the curve, the car in front of me suddenly swerved out of the way to reveal that the car I had thought was on the shoulder was actually in my lane, dead ahead. Unable to stop in time, I crashed into the car at 60 miles an hour and changed my life forever.

Waiting alone in the car before help arrived, I was certain I would die. I was in tremendous pain, my heart was beating erratically, and I knew my injuries were serious. In fact, I felt like a living crash-test dummy. I had sustained cardiac contusions, severe whiplash, soft-tissue tearing, and more.

For the first few weeks of my recovery, I was too busy dealing with my physical trauma to give any thought to my future. But several months after the accident, my extensive injuries forced me to realize that I would not be able to return to work as a pediatrician because the work was physically demanding. In addition to physical pain and disability, I struggled with psychological suffering I couldn’t understand. I had prided myself on being a hardworking, successful, “normal” woman; now I was plagued by nightmares, intrusive thoughts about the accident, panic attacks, and growing fears related to driving and disability.

In my medical practice I had dealt with all kinds of illness and injury that happened to other people, but after my accident I began to appreciate what “trauma” really means. As my body tried to normalize, I no longer felt like “myself.” I told a friend that I felt as if I were seeing the world through prescription lenses that were just a few diopters off—the world looked at once familiar and extremely distorted. My entire sense of identity was disturbed.

Nonetheless, I struggled to get back into daily life. Six weeks after the accident, I still wanted nothing to do with cars, but I was ready to take an easy walk around my quiet residential neighborhood with a friend. We were discussing the pleasures of walking, admiring the trees and gardens, when a car filled with birthday balloons suddenly zoomed up the street, veered in our direction, jumped the curb, snapped the tall, slim tree in its path, and missed hitting me by inches as instinctively I leaped out of harm’s way. It continued its crash course until finally it smashed into a house, tearing off a column of the porch. I was badly shaken. My theory that I would be safer walking than riding in a car had just been shattered.

As the weeks went by, my strange reactions seemed to multiply. I couldn’t bear the sound of balls bouncing against walls when my children and their friends played handball. I still didn’t want to drive on curvy roads. One symptom in particular confused and alarmed me. I had become unable to tolerate any cracking noises, including the sounds of people eating carrots, chips, or crackers. This was a real problem because my son and daughter were at an age when they loved crunchy foods, and while they were eating I felt inexplicably irritated and anxious. The feeling was comparable to hearing chalk screech on a blackboard while having a pop gun go off in my face. I found that I couldn’t be in the room with them while they ate.

After 4 months I was feeling depressed and terrified. These symptoms were extraordinary. Before this accident I had felt good about myself. I had been a pediatrician and parent who was calm and focused in the midst of boisterous children and all sorts of environmental distractions. Now I was a wreck, and I didn’t like it. At the time I didn’t know that new posttraumatic symptoms can proliferate months after an upsetting event. I thought surely I should be over it by now. I was shocked that my symptoms seemed to be getting worse.

My intolerance for sudden, unexpected noises challenged my view of myself as a patient parent, to say the least. I now began to avoid children, walks outside, and noise of any kind. My internist, who had never heard of such symptoms, dismissed me with a pat prescription: “It just takes time and patience.” The psychotherapist I consulted encouraged me to search my memory for times in the past when noises of people eating had bothered me. The only memory I could retrieve was that my mother had been annoyed by the sound of my father eating with his mouth open. As the therapist encouraged me to explore my feelings about my parents, I truly began to question my sanity. Could my parents’ small dispute have caused me to avoid my own children, whom I adore? What did my childhood have to do with this?

I earnestly wanted to feel normal again, but I didn’t know who to trust or what to do. Focusing on my deceased parents’ relationship only made me worry about past history. “Insight” did not relieve any of my current symptoms. I knew my parents had loved me and cared for me. Their petty irritation at the dinner table could not be fueling my current anxiety, could it?

This was new territory for me. I was surprised to realize that during my medical training at three of the best medical centers in the world, I had not been taught useful information about the psychological aftermath of trauma. I had learned how to save lives, and to recognize symptoms dangerous to health; but in 20 years of practicing medicine, I had never heard of a patient who suddenly couldn’t tolerate the sounds of her children eating.

“Time and patience” did not help. After three return visits to the internist, I realized that she had no help to offer me. She refused my request for a referral to a doctor who specialized in rehabilitation medicine with a now-familiar refrain: “Nothing more needs to be done. You just need time and patience.” I was deeply disappointed in this doctor who dismissed my suffering even though I was not a complainer. She knew that I had never before called for any complaint. I had even endured childbirth and tooth fillings without anesthesia. She did not comprehend that it was her role to try to find appropriate help for me. It was shocking to me that even as a physician I could not persuade my doctor to give me a referral to a specialist. I have since learned that physicians often are unaware of the effects of trauma, and are uneducated in the resources available for relieving posttraumatic suffering.

EMDR: A METHOD TO LESSEN TRAUMA

Finally, 8 months after the accident, I consulted a psychiatrist because I desperately wanted relief from unrelenting anxiety, “flashbacks” and intrusive thoughts about the accident, and nightmares. The psychiatrist asked whether I had heard of EMDR, a method for treating posttraumatic stress. I hadn’t, but at this point I was willing to try anything that might help me to function normally again. She referred me to a woman I’ll call “Marianne,” a therapist trained in the EMDR method. Hopeful but dubious, I went to see her.

After relating yet again the story of my accident and subsequent losses, I felt anxious and exhausted. Marianne explained that EMDR was a method she would use to help me lessen my traumatic symptoms. She explained that EMDR stands for eye movement desensitization and reprocessing, and told me the story of how Dr. Francine Shapiro had developed the method after discovering that eye movement helped to erase her excess fears when she had upsetting thoughts. “Desensitization” refers to the process of becoming comfortable with a memory of an event that was scary, but is currently over and now harmless. “Reprocessing” is a psychological term that means to work on understanding a memory so that the memory becomes useful instead of just scary.

WHAT IS EMDR?

EMDR developed from an observation of a natural behavior. Psychologist Francine Shapiro happened on the healing power of eye movement quite accidentally one day in 1987 as she was walking outdoors, thinking about some disturbing events in her life. A while later, when she reviewed her memories of the events again, she found that they were no longer disturbing. In thinking about what she was doing at the time, she realized that while she was thinking she had unconsciously been flicking her eyes back and forth. Could that have been a key? Intrigued, she worked on this theory some more, and eventually tried out her newly forming method with some of her clients, including Vietnam veterans and rape victims who were suffering from posttraumatic stress disorder. Over the years, Dr. Shapiro developed the method, which includes elements of cognitive-behavioral therapy; body-oriented therapy; psychoanalytic theory; the family-systems approach; as well as alternately stimulating the right and left hemispheres of the brain with eye movement, tapping, or auditory tones. As she refined the method, she had more and more success with adults suffering from all sorts of trauma. Eventually she developed a complete eight-part method. Today, more than 25,000 therapists worldwide are trained in this method.

We don’t know exactly how eye movement helps us desensitize and reprocess traumatic memories. Initially, it was thought that the eye-movement component of EMDR worked to metabolize painful memories, much the way rapid-eye-movement sleep (REM sleep) works as the “night janitor” to clean up (or metabolize) some disturbing memories. Alternate tapping or auditory tones seem to be as effective as eye movement in effecting a change, however. Perhaps the shifting of attention from one hemisphere of the brain to the other recruits the memory fragments to form a coherent, consolidated memory in a more stable state.

Dr. Bessel van der Kolk, trauma specialist at Boston University, has postulated that eye movement or other alternating right-to-left stimulation promotes the movement of information from one hemisphere of the brain to the other through the corpus callosum. The right side of the brain is responsible for emotions and nonverbal experience. The left side of the brain contains the capacity to orient events in time, to use language to gain distance from the source of distress, and to assign meaning to experiences.

Intriguing research seems to give clues about the way EMDR may work. Researcher Martin Teicher and his associates have analyzed brain functioning in subjects with and without histories of childhood sexual abuse. They learned that subjects without a history of abuse used both hemispheres of the brain when they recalled a painful childhood memory. Subjects with a history of childhood sexual abuse only showed activation of functioning in the right hemisphere of the brain when they remembered a painful childhood memory. Apparently, EMDR nonverbally stimulates communication between the two hemispheres of the brain (van der Kolk, 1997), allowing traumatized people to use both right- and lefthemisphere resources in resolving painful memories.

Is EMDR hypnosis? No. During hypnosis, electroencephalographic readings indicate that there is an increase in alpha, beta, or theta waves that are associated with an increase in suggestibility. During EMDR, brain-wave tracings show brain waves that are within normal waking parameters. In EMDR, the person is actually less suggestible than usual to information that is not correct.

Although exactly how EMDR works on a biochemical level is still a mystery, research has demonstrated that people usually have fewer unnecessary fears or anxieties and feel better after they use it. The four most recent rigorously controlled studies have shown that 84-100% of the participants who had suffered a single trauma no longer had a diagnosis of posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) after only three 90-minute treatment sessions. Other treatment methods have been able to achieve success only after 25-100 hours of treatment, if at all. The first study of children treated with EMDR was presented by Dr. Claude Chemtob at the International Society for Traumatic Stress Studies in 1996. This study indicated that children with posttraumatic symptoms persisting 3 years after Hurricane Iniki showed significant improvement following EMDR treatment. Other studies of the effects of EMDR treatment on children are underway.

MY FIRST EXPERIENCES WITH EMDR

After taking a complete history, Marianne explained that when we began to desensitize and reprocess painful memories of the accident, she would ask me to hold in mind an image representing the worst part of the accident, to think the self-deprecating thoughts associated with the memory, and to notice the anxiety in my body. Then she would guide me to follow her hand with my eyes as she moved it back and forth horizontally through the air. I almost didn’t go back. EMDR sounded weird, and I felt sure that I didn’t want to revisit the horrendous experience of the accident or its aftermath while watching a waving hand that might magnify my terror.

Fortunately, this therapist was experienced and confident. She was encouraging and supportive while I tried the new method. She decided to address my most disturbing symptom first: noise intolerance. She explained the simple principle that posttraumatic symptoms arise from the traumatic incident. “Since noise makes you anxious,” she reasoned, “some sound must have frightened you at the time of the trauma.” (I was relieved to learn that my noise intolerance was related to the accident and not caused by my father’s noisy eating.) Marianne encouraged me to remember the story of the first automobile accident once again, this time following her horizontal hand movements and listening internally to the sounds of the automobile accident to notice any cracking noises. As I followed her moving hand with my eyes and focused on the accident, I was amazed to find that I heard the sounds of screeching tires, of metal colliding with metal, and glass shattering. But I heard no distinctly “cracking” sounds.

Then she asked me to focus on the sounds of the second accident, which had upset me just when I was beginning to recover from my near-death encounter. Again I followed her hand movements. I heard the sounds of my friend and myself walking, the sounds of a car speeding toward us, the tire bumping the curb, and the CRACK of the tree beside me splitting and crashing down as I leaped out of the way to escape the out-of-control car. I realized suddenly that my quick reaction to the sound of the cracking tree probably saved my life.

Until that moment I had not consciously realized that the cracking of the tree breaking apart had programmed my nervous system to react to any cracking sound, even the harmless sound of a child cr...

Table of contents

• Cover Page
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Acknowledgments
• Foreword by Francine Shapiro, Ph.D.
• Part I. Understanding Trauma
• Part II. Small Wonders: The Cases
• Afterword
• Appendix 1. Questions Frequently Asked About EMDR
• Appendix 2. For Parents: What to Expect When Your Child Does EMDR
• Appendix 3. Guidelines for Writing a Story for Your Child
• Appendix 4. Guidelines for Clinicians: Using Storytelling and EMDR to Treat Young Children for Critical-Incident Trauma
• Appendix 5. EMDR Resources
• References
• Bibliography
• Index