Jung At Heart Archive April 2009

Mother Complex

As background for my reflections on this week's sessions, I want first to explore the mother complex and then the father complex.

The mother complex is a potentially active component of everyone's psyche, informed first of all by experience of the personal mother, then by significant contact with other women and by collective assumptions. The constellation of a mother complex has differing effects according to whether it appears in a son or a daughter.(The Jung Lexicon)

It isn't possible to escape the influence of mother in the development of any and all of us.

Jung tells us of several forms the mother complex can take in a woman --

 The exaggeration of the feminine side means an intensification of all female instincts, above all the maternal instinct. The negative aspect is seen in the woman whose only goal is childbirth. To her the husband is . . . first and foremost the instrument of procreation, and she regards him merely as an object to be looked after, along with children, poor relations, cats, dogs, and household furniture.(Jung, CW 9i., par. 167.)

and in another variation, what Jung calls the feminine instinct is inhibited or wiped out --

As a substitute, an overdeveloped Eros results, and this almost invariably leads to an unconscious incestuous relationship with the father. The intensified Eros places an abnormal emphasis on the personality of others. Jealousy of the mother and the desire to outdo her become the leitmotifs of subsequent undertakings.(Jung,CW9i par. 168.)

This inhibition can also be expressed in another way, in which the woman identifies with the mother.

As a sort of superwoman (admired involuntarily by the daughter), the mother lives out for her beforehand all that the girl might have lived for herself. She is content to cling to her mother in selfless devotion, while at the same time unconsciously striving, almost against her will, to tyrannize over her, naturally under the mask of complete loyalty and devotion. The daughter leads a shadow-existence, often visibly sucked dry by her mother, and she prolongs her mother's life by a sort of continuous blood transfusion.(Jung, CW9i, par. 169.]

And then there is the negative mother complex, the stuff of novels and films, where there is tremendous resistance to mother and all that she stands for.

It is the supreme example of the negative mother-complex. The motto of this type is: Anything, so long as it is not like Mother! . . . All instinctive processes meet with unexpected difficulties; either sexuality does not function properly, or the children are unwanted, or maternal duties seem unbearable, or the demands of marital life are responded to with impatience and irritation.(Jung,CW9i., par. 170.]

This kind of daughter knows what she does not want but is usually completely at sea as to what she would choose as her own fate. All her instincts are concentrated on the mother in the negative form of resistance and are therefore of no use to her in building her own life.

"As we know, a complex can be really overcome only if it is lived out to the full. In other words, if we are to develop further we have to draw to us and drink down to the very dregs what, because of our complexes, we have held at a distance.

This type [the woman with a negative mother complex] started out in the world with an averted face, like Lot's wife looking back on Sodom and Gomorrah. And all the while the world and life pass by her like a dream -- an annoying source of illusions, disappointments, and irritations, all of which are due solely to the fact that she cannot bring herself to look straight ahead for once. Because of her unconscious reactive attitude toward reality, her life actually becomes dominated by that which she fought hardest against...But if she should turn her face, she will see the world for the first time, so to speak, in the light of maturity, and see it embellished with all the colors and enchanting wonders of youth, and sometimes even of childhood. It is  a vision that brings knowledge and discovery of truth, the indispensable prerequisite for consciousness. A part of life was lost, but the meaning of life has been salvaged for her."(Jung, CW9i)

Complexes  differ from introjects, (the unconscious adoption of the ideas or attitudes of others) in one important way. According to Jung, every complex has at its center an archetype.  Complexes are "feeling-toned ideas" that over the years accumulate around archetypes, like "mother" and "father." When complexes are constellated, they are invariably accompanied by affect. So the mother complex is not only informed by experiences with the personal mother, but also by the universal pattern of "mother" imprinted in the psyche.


Hold these in mind as you reflect on Mia, on April, and on Paul.

Therapeutic Frame, again

Yesterday I mentioned that the boundaries of time, place, fee are elements of the therapeutic frame. These days, outside of the psychoanalytic literature, no one talks much about the therapeutic frame. But I have always found it to be one of the most important and useful concepts in the practice of psychotherapy. The frame is the container for the therapy, the fixed elements that form the boundaries for the work. The frame has three elements: time, place, fee. Optimally these three elements remain the same throughout the duration of the therapy, changed only after careful consideration, because changing one element alters the whole container. Keeping these elements fixed makes it easier to identify when either patient or therapist is acting out and facilitates working through whatever the issue is that gives rise to the acting out.

The frame is for both the patient and the therapist. It provides a structure for the basic elements of the work. There is plenty going on all the time so it is helpful to have something be stable and predictable. The weather changes, mood changes, how we look or feel changes. People in our lives change. And so on. Of course sometimes it is necessary to change the time for meeting or the place, as when the therapist moves or changes offices. But the frame as that structural skeleton still exists.

I was in analysis with my analyst for a long time. The time for my sessions changed once and he moved once within that time. The fee stayed the same the whole time. He always started and ended on time. There was something very comforting knowing that those things would stay the same -- even when I was furious with him or when my life was falling apart, that piece of my life was stable and there and reliable. It made for a space where I could explore the least explored parts of me, the parts I felt least comfortable with -- a safe space.

 In an excellent article on the frame, Robert Maxwell Young writes:

"the analytic frame is not confined to the room where the therapy is done. It is ideally tacitly in the minds of both therapist and patient all the time. It is there when you open the door or speak on the phone. It is carried with the patient (or not) between sessions: it is internalised. It is conveyed by the therapist’s demeanour, tone of voice, pauses, silences, grunts, the wording of any note or letter which it is appropriate to send to the patient. It is evident in pauses. It is all aspects of analytic space. To maintain the frame is to maintain the analytic relationship. Its essence is containment." 

So the frame is more than just the physical setting. It is the larger notion of the therapeutic space, that space in which both therapist and patient relate to each other in support of the therapy. It includes sessions on the telephone, or in writing, or in other ways that the two engage in their work together. 

"Acting out is a substitute for verbal expression. It is expressive, symbolic communication, but it is not relfective. The patient is acting rather than reflecting. Where acting out is, thought cannot be.

One feature of acting out is that the therapist is usually put under pressure to do something he would not otherwise do — to go after the patient in some way, e.g., to write to the patient or phone, to reveal something, to move, to change a session, to press the patient, to relent about a decision or take a firm line, even to lose his temper."

Young writes elsewhere:

"the room, its furnishing, its stability, one’s demeanour, absolute confidentiality, the forms of abstinence dictated by professional ethics, e.g, refraining from physical, sexual or social contact –- all these are designed to facilitate speaking in an exploratory way about matters which it is difficult to reflect upon in ordinary life. Along with what the therapist says and how it is said, they constitute the containment that makes change possible, though in no sense inevitable. The therapeutic frame is a safe place to take risks, to regress, to confess, to repent, to embark upon acts of contrition. "

There are purists who hold to a highly structured and idealized sense of the frame. Robert Langs is one and there are others as well. Frame becomes elevated to an almost absurd level so that ordinary human interaction becomes almost impossible -- like offering a tissue to a patient who is crying. But within the therapeutic community there are variations in how the frame is constructed and maintained. For the purists, a letter from a patient between sessions is an instance of acting out and they would not read it but rather place it on the table and wait for the patient to talk about it. And it is acting out, because it is an extra-therapeutic contact, a kind of effort to gain more time and attention from the therapist outside of the boundaries of their time together, and it is writing rather than putting the feelings into words and speaking them in the session. But that it is acting out does not mean it is useless, meaningless or bad; what it does is signal the presence of unresolved feelings or or need. 

The actual words of the letter may indeed impart thoughts or ideas not expressed in session but it is what drives the desire to write them rather than say them that is probably of greater importance. And dealing with the fear/resistance to expressing those feelings and thoughts directly is a big part of what depth psychotherapy is about.


Trust

Behind the Couch has an interesting post today on trust of therapist for patient. She asserts the following as the necessary components of trust in this direction:

What does this trust look like?

* trust that the client is telling the truth (to the best of their knowledge/according to their own reality)

* trust that the client is working as hard as they can

* trust that the client is allowing themselves to be part of the alliance

* trust that the client will adhere to imposed boundaries (payment, attendance, contact between sessions) .

As I posted earlier this week about Mia of In Treatment, trust is a two way street in therapy -- the patient needs to be able to trust the therapist and likewise the therapist needs to feel some measure of trust that the patient will not willfully attempt to injure him or her. 

Being a therapist can be a very dangerous business. More than one therapist has been murdered by a patient, though this happens more to psychiatrists treating psychotic patients than to most of us, nevertheless it is a risk. Because we most often practice alone and not uncommonly see patients in the evening, the risk is there. Any therapist working with perpetrators or victims of domestic violence must be mindful of a degree of risk. *

To say nothing of the fears of being sued and the difficulty defending such a suit because therapy by its very nature is a subjective enterprise and because jurors are far more likely to feel connection to and sympathy for the plaintiff than for the defending therapist.

So at  baseline we must be able to feel some measure of safety from harm by the patient. And we must allow that even so there is always risk. This element of danger in our work is rarely discussed.

I am not so concerned about patients telling the truth. Whether what they say is factually accurate or not, what they say is still about who they are and how they experience life and we work together with what they offer. As the patient becomes more comfortable and more willing to trust the therapist, what was concealed may be revealed.

Nor am I concerned with measuring how hard the patient is working. Psyche works in its own time and my task is to be patient with the process and not try to set it on my timetable.

The therapeutic alliance similarly will develop as we work together. It helps for the patient to be willing to enter into such an alliance, but I think we need only to start with faith that some small element of such willingness is present just in being willing to come to sessions.

The boundaries of time, place, payment are elements of the therapeutic frame and it falls to the therapist to maintain those boundaries and confront and interpret violations of them. It is the task of the therapist to clearly set the frame and ascertain that the patient understands it and accepts it. Yes, trust is important here but more important is consciousness on the part of the therapist about what these boundaries are and that they are clearly stated.

Interesting topic and one I want to think about some more.

Edited to add following links on violence directed at therapists:

Alarming Number of Patients Think About Killing Their Doctors

Therapist Job Risks: Murdered by Your Client

Second Therapist Murdered

Murder of Kathryn Faughey

Patient vs. DoctorA gruesome murder in New York raises questions about the security of mental health professionals at work.

Dual Relationships

In this week's episodes of In Treatment we saw two examples of dual relationships in psychotherapy and I have received emails asking to to say more about this.

It might seem that it would be easy to make a clear definition and prohibition against dual relationships, but in fact it is not and how they are viewed varies some by theoretical orientation. The more the relationship between therapist and patient is the primary vessel for the work, then the less likely that such a relationship would be benign, for the therapy.

The code of ethics for psychologists states:

American Psychological Association: Ethical Principles of Psychologists and Code of Conduct

 "A multiple relationship occurs when a psychologist is in a professional role with a person and (1) at the same time is in another role with the same person, (2) at the same time is in a relationship with a person closely associated with or related to the person with whom the psychologist has the professional relationship, or (3) promises to enter into another relationship in the future with the person or a person closely associated with or related to the person. A psychologist refrains from entering into a multiple relationship if the multiple relationship could reasonably be expected to impair the psychologist's objectivity, competence, or effectiveness in performing his or her functions as a psychologist, or otherwise risks exploitation or harm to the person with whom the professional relationship exists. Multiple relationships that would not reasonably be expected to cause impairment or risk exploitation or harm are not unethical. (b) If a psychologist finds that, due to unforeseen factors, a potentially harmful multiple relationship has arisen, the psychologist takes reasonable steps to resolve it with due regard for the best interests of the affected person and maximal compliance with the Ethics Code....Barter is the acceptance of goods, services, or other nonmonetary remuneration from clients/patients in return for psychological services. Psychologists may barter only if (1) it is not clinically contraindicated, and (2) the resulting arrangement is not exploitative."

The one unambiguous area of dual relationships is any sexual contact -- across the board this is seen as injurious to the patient and unethical. 

From there it becomes less clear. In a large urban area, it is possible for therapist and patient to have no contact or relationship of any kind outside of therapy. The more rural the area, the less possible this becomes. As an example, I live in a town of 6500 people. It is highly likely that I will know people who come to me or know people they are close to -- this is all but inevitable in a small population. What do we do about it? We talk about it and establish ground rules for the relationship.

It is also fairly clear that there shouldn't be any complicating financial relationship between patient and therapist. A patient could be a great accountant or plumber or attorney but should not be employed by the therapist for those skills. 

The primary consideration must always be the interests of the patient -- is the dual relationship in the best interests of the patient? And if it is not or there is doubt that it is, then it should be avoided.

In light of this, look at Paul and Mia. He knows as soon as he recognizes her that they would have a dual relationship if they proceed -- even if she did not return to see him in therapy, that that she was his patient remains the priority concern. And as they talk it becomes even clearer to him that she should not handle his case. Good decision.

Look at Gina and Paul. Their relationship is a tangled mess of personal and professional and the lines constantly shift and blur so that there has not been a clear therapeutic or supervisory contract. And though Paul asks to be in therapy with her, and Gina agrees, it is not in his best interests. He may not want to start again with someone new, but the issues between him and Gina make it highly unlikely that the therapy would be successful. And if it were to have even a chance of success, they would have to discuss the reality that their friendship needs to be set aside. Even were they able to do this, I am dubious about the outlook.

In order to have a solid container for the therapy, and for the particular kind of intimacy that can develop in a secure frame with good boundaries, sacrifice is needed on the part of both therapist and patient. No matter how much they may like each other and believe they could have a wonderful friendship, the sanctity of the therapy relationship must come first. It is sometimes very difficult to make this kind of sacrifice, but it is essential. These are feelings for the patient to put into words, and not to be acted out, by either patient or therapist.

Just one more day...

The season premiere of In Treatment is tomorrow. I expect to be able to post about the first two episodes -- that is the first 2 patient sessions -- tomorrow night after the show airs.

In the meantime, the New York Times had a nice piece on the show with information on some of what is ahead this season -- be sure to take a look!

A Matter of Touch

A question that comes up a lot in discussions of therapy is that of touch -- when, if at all, is it appropriate for a therapist to touch a patient? As you might imagine, this is a complex subject.

Setting aside for the moment, entirely justified concerns about issues of sexual misconduct in therapy, let's look at the common desire of patients for a hug or a pat on the back or some other reassuring gesture from the therapist. When dealing with intimate and difficult issues, it seems normal and understandable that patients would want some kind of comfort from the therapist, the person often placed in the role of re-parenting patients. But there is much more involved in such transactions than first meets the eye.

Back in the 70's and early 80's when I was much newer in practice, it was common for therapists to hug patients, an outgrowth, I suppose, of the whole encounter group movement and the idea that hugging and touching, because it felt "natural" was a good thing. But cooler heads looked more deeply at the issue and their thoughts on the issue certainly changed my mind.

A hug is a feeling that is acted out, regardless of whether it is initiated by patient or therapist. The same is true of a pat on the back or grasping the hand. And emotion acted out becomes less available for understanding. The purpose of therapy is in part to make what is unconscious conscious -- a task that of course is never completed -- and that means forgoing certain automatic, "natural" behaviors and gestures in order to understand the feelings and beliefs which underlie them.

At the end of a difficult session, the patient indicates she would like a hug and the therapist complies. What does this mean? Is the patient asking "Do you love me?" or saying "please take care of me"? We have no idea because the feelings did not become words, they became action. And what does the hug from the therapist mean -- "sorry you are hurting" ? Something else? Who knows? 

So a strict frame around touch puts physical contact between therapist and patient out of bounds, except perhaps for a handshake, more commonly a part of process in Europe than in the US, I believe. Certainly this has the effect of drastically reducing the likelihood of improper physical contact if the dictum is adhered to. But beyond that, it reinforces the emphasis on putting feelings into words. So the patient asks for a hug and the therapist says, "I think it would be a good idea to talk about what you are feeling when you ask me that" as a means to underline the basic task of therapy and to support the acceptance of all thoughts and feelings expressed in words. 

The patient may experience this as rejection -- and it can be a difficult task to work through those feelings of being denied much desired contact with the therapist. It is important for the therapist to be able to bear the fact that the boundaries of therapy can and do create discomfort and can and do interfere with otherwise normal and natural behaviors because to do otherwise is to leave unanalyzed significant feelings and desires and to open the door to the possibility of escalating demands and possible problematic behavior.

There are times when even well thought out rules should perhaps be set aside. I think of the day a patient told me she had been diagnosed with a fatal illness. We spent hours afterwards talking about her feelings but in that first moment, I did place my hand on hers as I expressed my sorrow about her difficult and painful news. In the strictest terms, I violated that rule, but the circumstances were extreme. I was aware that it would be important to talk about that moment and we did. The key was that I was conscious of that necessity and was prepared to and welcomed talking about it. Still, I accept that my action could be viewed as acting out.

See, it is not as simple as it seems.

© Cheryl Fuller, 2007. All  rights reserved.