To Discover Your Belief System, Analyze Your Behavior

 

William James, the psychologist often referred to as the father of psychotherapy, was the first to appreciate the concept of our two selves—one that acts and the other that analyzes those actions. By developing the second self that (critically, realistically) observes their own behavior, we psychotherapists teach clients how to become their own psychotherapist. 

 

Here’s an example from my own life. Even a tiny observation of how I behave informs me of an aspect of my character revealed through a brief dialogue between my observing self and my experiencing self.

 

One Saturday at the health club, I was riding on the shabbat elevator that is regulated to stop on every floor. Although I know that pressing the buttons will not affect the elevator’s functioning, I persisted in button-pressing! “You are an Impatient person,” 

my observing self informed my experiencing self!

Observing self: "Your behavior says a lot about you. You are an impatient soul."

Experiencing self: "Yes, I agree. Let me explain the feeling behind my (ridiculous) action. I feel that I will never have enough time in my lifetime to fit in everything I want to do, everything I want to learn. But here’ my justification. On my death bed, I will be able to say, I tried to cram as much as I could into my life!"

 

To accept Dr. James’ concept, to perceive our one self as actually two selves, the experiencing and the observing, gives us the possibility to become our a self-healer. During dynamic psychotherapeutic sessions, we develop our observer self to comment (accurately), lift us out of the moment, and examine our behavior.

 

The division of selves allows us to become a more complete, aware person. We may not always like what we see about ourselves. Next, we arrive at another fork in the road: to accept (resign ourselves) to who we are in the moment or to change our behavior and our belief system. For example, I could choose to work on myself, on my impatience, to decide to become more patient and accepting of whatever time I have. I just remembered a line from the play Tally’s Folly by the playwright Terrance McNally: “However much time there is in a lifetime, is a lifetime.” 

 

To me, the evolving self is an exciting, creative one. Except for the objects on our shelves, in reality, very little is static in the world. And each of us is in a perpetual state of becoming. In each of us we can find/discover our most important creative project, our self, evolving.

 

Dear Reader, I welcome your responses. Jsimon145@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

Collaborative Approach to Psycho-pharmaceutical Treatment

As we know, there is a wealth of material about everything readily available to us at our fingertips on the Great Wide Web. (While I appreciate the inherent dangers, I embrace the convenience, having spent hours of research in library stacks decades ago.) Recently, I’ve discovered that the internet can also be an avenue for collaboration with patients who want to be involved in choosing their medication. I suggest that they research the pros and cons of the medications for us to consider as a treatment team. Of course, the final decision is mine. I will not prescribe any medication that I do not think is an appropriate choice. 

 

A recent example is a person who has experienced treatment failures with a few psychiatrists in the past. To me, this history suggests a particular diagnosis. I have suggested that they research medications that have been effective for this diagnosis. They have appreciated the suggestion and done their research. We look forward to our collaboration as we discuss and try some psychopharmacological options. 

 

Dear Reader, I look forward to your comments.

Jsimon145@gmail.com

Some Thoughts on "A Beautiful Noise," the musical, based on the life of the Singer-Songwriter Neil Diamond

The morning after I saw the scintillating musical on Broadway, A Beautiful Noise, I found myself asking the question: what is the relationship of the artist’s work to understanding himself? This query has occupied thousands of writers’ minds and resulted in almost as many books that explore the intriguing question. 

I applaud this production, an interpretation of the life of a star, in which the therapist’s office serves as a backdrop for Diamond’s music. Admirable too is the depiction of Diamond as less than an ideal client. He is resistant: He doesn’t want to be in this space undergoing an exploration of his deeper self. He is here because his wife Katie sent him. He reluctantly reveals that she finds him “difficult to live with.” After the failure of his past two marriages, he is receptive to heeding her advice.

 

We psychotherapists prefer a client who is open, willing, and eager to undergo the therapeutic journey. But in this production, the clever therapist hooks Mr. Diamond as he’s about to walk out the office door. She opens a thick volume of his lyrics and asks about a specific song. She has captured his interest. Now he can’t escape the task ahead of recognizing the aspects of himself that he has buried and that now create some inner conflict and express themselves in his relationship with his wife.

 

Although Diamond’s songs are an expression of himself and document his journey, they do not accomplish the task of psychoanalysis. The relationship of the artist to his work embodies a deep and personal connection that emanates from his experiences. It is a form of self-expression and communication with the world but doesn’t substitute for a psychotherapeutic exploration. 

 

The therapist accomplishes the task to help the client discover his inner conflict, the thoughts and feelings that veer in opposite directions. She accepts her client and mirrors or reflects to him what she hears in his words and adds an occasional comment of interpretation. As he participates in the therapeutic relationship, the client comes to recognize and accept aspects of himself that he hadn’t recognized, avoided or denied. In Diamond’s case, it is the failure to acknowledge a part of his identity: his early years as the lonely little boy, a nobody from Brooklyn. Through the psychotherapeutic experience, he recognizes and accepts this aspect of himself. The joyous, uplifting song I Am…I Said expresses the delight in acknowledging his full identity. The lonely boy from Brooklyn joins hands with the world-traveled singing star. He doesn’t have to perform on stage for the rest of his life to be Ok. 

 

Conclusion: The goal for a celebrity and for each one of us is the same: coming to terms with who we are, our deepest self in the past and present that helps to guide us on an authentic path. 

 

Dear Readers, I welcome your comments. Jsimon145@gmail.com