An interesting thing one person telling another person what they are worth. Something we all tell each other to be assertive against: only you know how much you are worth, we are all special, so on. Something we so quickly accept when an authority figure, literal or imagined, takes the opportunity to rate us based on some established system of weak? prior consent. Obviously I have some bitter feelings about this.
First of all, let me say that I am all for criticism. I can take it, I can dish it, it's how we all get better at what we do. What kills me is the whole fuzziness of subjectivity v objectivity. My blue is your green is his red. The problem is when concreteness is removed I think we tend to do two things that contradict each other: one, we rationalize, and two, we exaggerate. I may be told I was "good" at something, which is a total objective, bull-****, waste of time statement, and rationalize that I had done something well when I had only just done it well enough. On the other hand, I might exaggerate that I had done it terribly since I had not completed whatever task "excellently." Neither course sheds any light on the original evaluator's intended meaning.
How helpful is this system? Essentially it creates a feeling of accomplishment or failure in the reviewed, largely regardless of the original intent of the reviewer. Why do we insist on doing it? Somehow we are obviously convincing ourselves that it is useful.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Sunday, December 7, 2008
Neophyte
A paper I recently wrote that I feel is relevant:
This is an opportunity for me to speak more openly about an academic experience, without specific structural demands bogging down what I might otherwise say. The goal of this paper is to both respectfully and honestly describe an out-of-the-classroom learning opportunity I recently had regarding the topic of group counseling. I attended a semi-annual meeting of the Mid-Atlantic Group Psychotherapy Society (MAGPS). The focus of the conference was trauma in group work, entitled, “Vicissitudes of Trauma in Group Psychotherapy: Little, Big, and Hidden,” with guest speaker Dr. Bonnie Buchele. This was one of the worst educational experiences in terms of hostility I have ever experienced. However, that negative experience does not diminish the importance of the conference to me in an educational way; it may in fact have enhanced it. Here begins my ironically traumatizing weekend about counseling trauma groups.
I would describe myself as positive, determined and hard-working person. I feel that I look for the best in people and situations, and am constantly burdened by empathy and the paladin nature of my heart. These qualities drew me to counseling, but as such are always under my constant surveillance to keep in check. The reason I think this is important to mention is not for vanity, but because I want to emphasize that I came into this conference enthusiastically and humbly: ready to learn and benefit from more experienced professionals’ knowledge and experience.
At my practicum I work with sexual assault and domestic violence clients. At the time of the conference I was just over half-way through with a group I was co-leading to empower teen survivors of sexual abuse. I was eager to learn things at the MAGPS trauma conference to take back to my group. Additionally, the trauma stories of my client population were starting to get to me and I wanted to hear from professionals how they had coped with secondary traumatization; what was and is for me an increasingly important aspect of working with traumatized clients. In short, I wanted to be at this conference.
Just as I had expectations and plans for conference weekend, so did the conference planners, speakers and organizers. The conference lasted for three days in West Virginia, located in a hotel’s conference center. The days had each of three main components, in various flavors and sequences: lectures by the main speaker, small group meetings, and a socialization opportunity. Conference attendees were expected to participate in at least the first two of these components, while the third was optional. The conference was very well organized, the speaker was knowledgeable, and all the logistics ran smoothly. In fact I feel fairly confident that most attendees enjoyed a nicely organized conference weekend and were happy with all of its components.
I would not say that I am an exception. The first evening (a Friday evening) started well. Towson students had a great showing at the conference and people noticed. We had the support of each other in testing out new territory as budding professionals, and we were all excited. The first evening began with a two-hour or so presentation about basic trauma theory by the guest presenter. I had had a crash course in most of it at my practicum, so most of the first lecture was a review. It was encouraging to me in terms of the relevancy of the weekend and my expectations. After the lecture, it was announced that we were to meet in smaller, pre-assigned groups for 90 minutes. These were to be process groups and open for whatever group members wanted to use the time for. My group was assigned to meet in a hotel suite on the fourth floor.
I wasted time finding my way up to the fourth floor to avoid the awkwardness of being the first to arrive, but somehow still managed to be only the second group member to come into the room after one of the co-leaders whom had already sat down. Within the next five minutes most of the other group members arrived and there we sat: the seven of us plus two co-leaders. The session turned to be very psycho-analytic and minimal in co-leader involvement.
The first hour during that session was pained with silences and polite surface-talk. Still, the various members began to settle into their various roles. There was the “make everyone happy” woman whom had helped organized the conference; the “I am changing careers but I’m still more knowledgeable and lofty” woman from DC; the “foreign doctor” who struggled through his accent and connected everything to medical symptoms and terminology; the “I’m a homosexual from Hopkins and I’ve been in a million groups before” boy from a Master’s program at Hopkins; the “perfect student, perfect group member, I did all the reading” girl; the “I’m so kind- hearted and understand everybody” woman; and me, the “I’m shy because I’ve never done anything like this, but I want you to think I’m smart” girl from Towson.
The group leaders said little to nothing. However, after some time their roles within the co-leader role began to delineate as well. They both were the “we don’t talk, we listen even though silence is awkward” psychodynamic co-leaders. They were both female. One woman fell into the “I don’t say much but when I do I’m always right and effective, I’m perfectly parsimonious” role, partly determined by her age and presumed vast experience with groups. The other woman became the “I’m new at this but I’m trying and therefore much more likeable” leader role. At first, I liked them both.
An hour passed in our first session as a small group and all the usual beginning stage of group standards were being met. We were awkward, feeling out the group roles and expectations for ourselves and each other. The mood was not aggressive, but it was definitely tense. Then, the Hopkins boy was telling a story about a previous group he had been in when the foreign doctor interrupted. The parsimonious and perfect older co-leader jumped in with an intervention that no one got. I felt bad for her, and tried to bail her out. I asked if she wanted a play-by-play summary of what had just happened to help the group back-track a little. She said nothing. I proceeded to summarize the past 2 minutes or so of interaction when she interrupted me to say that was not what she wanted, followed with a rephrase of the same ineffective intervention as before.
At this point, I realize my story-telling tone takes on some hostility towards this co-leader. In retrospect I would edit that out for respectfulness’ sake, but I leave it because that was very much how I began to feel: hostile towards this leader- but the interruption was not why. In response to her interruption, I jokingly said, “oh, shut me up!” Apparently, the co-leader took this personally. Magically, the group began to transfer all the awkward tension from the session to me and my comment, following the co-leader’s lead. They began grilling me about insecurities and my childhood, asking me what was wrong with me to have said such a thing and so forth. All this occurred within a minute and I had somehow become the problem of the group. I had taken on all the negative energy and the group was focused on me as the source of it.
I began to withdraw which turned into blaming by the group and the parsimonious perfect co-leader for distributing my “negativity” to the group and ruining the group experience. I wanted to dissolve into the couch. I wanted to crawl into a deep dark hole. I wanted to run out of the room. I wanted not to cry. The situation continued to evolve, pigeon-holing me into this negative role. My brain and my tongue were mixed up and I couldn’t talk because I thought my eyes would start to leak. The session ended. I kept up my collected façade until I got to the stairwell, leaving my group to ride the elevator together. Then I ran- I ran down the stairs and outside the building. My heart was pounding in my chest. I felt hurt, my cheeks were wet. I collapsed onto a bench to collect myself as panic set in.
In retrospect it is clear what type of transference occurred in that room. The older women assumed roles of defensive mothers towards resistant children. I assumed my childhood role of taking the negativity and anger without comment or complaint. The other tense group members followed suit and the negative, tense energy all went to me. I was the group scapegoat. They brought up too much too fast without any trust or rapport to speak of, and everyone, not just me, reverted to their more insecure, subjective selves. However, this does not by any stretch of the imagination excuse the co-leaders for the damage done in that session. It was nothing short of a first-session disaster forged from violating the basic rules of the beginning stage. Don’t push people too hard, don’t leave negativity unaddressed, don’t scapegoat anyone.
Needless to say, I fought an internal struggle the rest of that weekend to keep a positive attitude. The small groups were set to meet once or twice a day for the remainder of the weekend. I was terrified to go back. I lost sleep. I had nightmares. I even had a panic attack. Not to mention anything I planned on taking from this session in terms of my own personal and professional development had taken a major backseat. I am proud to say I somehow found the courage to go back to the next group meeting. I was hurting so bad, and feeling so scared, it was all I could do not to cry during that meeting. Group members shared feelings about my “hostility” and said I was “punishing them” for not talking that session. They said they had had bad dreams. I wonder if any of them considered that if they had had bad dreams, what it was that I had gone through. The perfect co-leader joined in the hurtful banter with how one person can destroy a group dynamic. They all said they were working so hard to “help me.” Still, I could say nothing. I was too hurt, I was too emotional. My throat wouldn’t let any words out. The second small group session ended.
The presentations and lectures of the weekend were long. Some felt relevant, some did not. I tried to suppress my feelings and learn what I could. I was lucky to have friends around me to help me keep it together that weekend. It was hard, and I didn’t need it. Even now, writing about it, it still hurts. Isn’t it funny how three hours with strangers can have that effect?
The last small group session was first thing Sunday morning. Again, I mustered the courage to go. By now the group had some side issues they were discussing and helping each other with. Still, I could not talk. Finally, towards the very end of the 90 minutes, I had convinced myself I needed to say something to the group, and that I could manage it while containing my feelings. I told them that I had felt targeted. I told them that during the first session I felt that I had become the center of all the negative and tense energy. I explained how excited I was to come to the conference and my feelings of confusion about what had happened in group the past few days, that I was not the person they thought I was.
Feeling pressured to give the group more to increase my likeability and therefore their ability to empathize (think about that statement, it upsets me that it was true) I told them about some of my past. I told them about my religious family and my role as the center of negativity for second- guessing religion. I told them how at times I thought that if my family was going to think of me badly, I might as well give that to them; after all, they thought it already. Someone from the group said that I did not have to act a certain way to be liked or not liked in group. I countered her, my boldness increasing, by saying that I did. That it was not until I told the group about myself and some of my own story, that they felt okay about me and “forgave” me. I told them I wasn’t ready to share that stuff with them, but that I thought that my options were to do that, or to leave carrying all the hostility, and that apparently, I was right. The group said nothing. The parsimonious perfect leader went into a story about how she was trying so hard to be a good therapist. The group focused on sympathizing with her. The session ended.
Bringing the weekend experience full-circle I honestly have to say that it was a terrible experience. For a few weeks after that I struggled with feelings of anxiety and sadness related to the small group sessions and what they brought up for me. I had been traumatized by my weekend on working with trauma in groups. I had to do a lot of self-care and self-reassurance that I was not the things that I had been labeled. I was even forced to address concerns surfaced by the experience about being a counselor at all. These things should not have happened as a result of that weekend, at least not in that way.
Feeling hurt the way that I do by the events of that conference weekend, I will admit it is hard for me to speak respectfully of the benefits it had for me. However, no matter how difficult the weekend was for me emotionally, I did learn important things that I will never forget. Some of those things are about good friends and inner strengths and are for a different essay. The one thing I learned that is important here is how it feels to be the ostracized group member. I learned first-hand the devastating consequences of neglecting to address conflict and forcing members to tell too much too quickly. I saw how damaging isolation and scapegoating is. I was lucky to have self-care strategies, a support system, and insight to get through my negative group experience. Many people do not. All the teens in my teen empowerment group have problems in one if not more of those areas. I learned that the guidelines in terms of group stages (the beginning stage most especially) are not just written for academic structure and teaching. They are written because they matter, and because they absolutely cannot be neglected.
This is an opportunity for me to speak more openly about an academic experience, without specific structural demands bogging down what I might otherwise say. The goal of this paper is to both respectfully and honestly describe an out-of-the-classroom learning opportunity I recently had regarding the topic of group counseling. I attended a semi-annual meeting of the Mid-Atlantic Group Psychotherapy Society (MAGPS). The focus of the conference was trauma in group work, entitled, “Vicissitudes of Trauma in Group Psychotherapy: Little, Big, and Hidden,” with guest speaker Dr. Bonnie Buchele. This was one of the worst educational experiences in terms of hostility I have ever experienced. However, that negative experience does not diminish the importance of the conference to me in an educational way; it may in fact have enhanced it. Here begins my ironically traumatizing weekend about counseling trauma groups.
I would describe myself as positive, determined and hard-working person. I feel that I look for the best in people and situations, and am constantly burdened by empathy and the paladin nature of my heart. These qualities drew me to counseling, but as such are always under my constant surveillance to keep in check. The reason I think this is important to mention is not for vanity, but because I want to emphasize that I came into this conference enthusiastically and humbly: ready to learn and benefit from more experienced professionals’ knowledge and experience.
At my practicum I work with sexual assault and domestic violence clients. At the time of the conference I was just over half-way through with a group I was co-leading to empower teen survivors of sexual abuse. I was eager to learn things at the MAGPS trauma conference to take back to my group. Additionally, the trauma stories of my client population were starting to get to me and I wanted to hear from professionals how they had coped with secondary traumatization; what was and is for me an increasingly important aspect of working with traumatized clients. In short, I wanted to be at this conference.
Just as I had expectations and plans for conference weekend, so did the conference planners, speakers and organizers. The conference lasted for three days in West Virginia, located in a hotel’s conference center. The days had each of three main components, in various flavors and sequences: lectures by the main speaker, small group meetings, and a socialization opportunity. Conference attendees were expected to participate in at least the first two of these components, while the third was optional. The conference was very well organized, the speaker was knowledgeable, and all the logistics ran smoothly. In fact I feel fairly confident that most attendees enjoyed a nicely organized conference weekend and were happy with all of its components.
I would not say that I am an exception. The first evening (a Friday evening) started well. Towson students had a great showing at the conference and people noticed. We had the support of each other in testing out new territory as budding professionals, and we were all excited. The first evening began with a two-hour or so presentation about basic trauma theory by the guest presenter. I had had a crash course in most of it at my practicum, so most of the first lecture was a review. It was encouraging to me in terms of the relevancy of the weekend and my expectations. After the lecture, it was announced that we were to meet in smaller, pre-assigned groups for 90 minutes. These were to be process groups and open for whatever group members wanted to use the time for. My group was assigned to meet in a hotel suite on the fourth floor.
I wasted time finding my way up to the fourth floor to avoid the awkwardness of being the first to arrive, but somehow still managed to be only the second group member to come into the room after one of the co-leaders whom had already sat down. Within the next five minutes most of the other group members arrived and there we sat: the seven of us plus two co-leaders. The session turned to be very psycho-analytic and minimal in co-leader involvement.
The first hour during that session was pained with silences and polite surface-talk. Still, the various members began to settle into their various roles. There was the “make everyone happy” woman whom had helped organized the conference; the “I am changing careers but I’m still more knowledgeable and lofty” woman from DC; the “foreign doctor” who struggled through his accent and connected everything to medical symptoms and terminology; the “I’m a homosexual from Hopkins and I’ve been in a million groups before” boy from a Master’s program at Hopkins; the “perfect student, perfect group member, I did all the reading” girl; the “I’m so kind- hearted and understand everybody” woman; and me, the “I’m shy because I’ve never done anything like this, but I want you to think I’m smart” girl from Towson.
The group leaders said little to nothing. However, after some time their roles within the co-leader role began to delineate as well. They both were the “we don’t talk, we listen even though silence is awkward” psychodynamic co-leaders. They were both female. One woman fell into the “I don’t say much but when I do I’m always right and effective, I’m perfectly parsimonious” role, partly determined by her age and presumed vast experience with groups. The other woman became the “I’m new at this but I’m trying and therefore much more likeable” leader role. At first, I liked them both.
An hour passed in our first session as a small group and all the usual beginning stage of group standards were being met. We were awkward, feeling out the group roles and expectations for ourselves and each other. The mood was not aggressive, but it was definitely tense. Then, the Hopkins boy was telling a story about a previous group he had been in when the foreign doctor interrupted. The parsimonious and perfect older co-leader jumped in with an intervention that no one got. I felt bad for her, and tried to bail her out. I asked if she wanted a play-by-play summary of what had just happened to help the group back-track a little. She said nothing. I proceeded to summarize the past 2 minutes or so of interaction when she interrupted me to say that was not what she wanted, followed with a rephrase of the same ineffective intervention as before.
At this point, I realize my story-telling tone takes on some hostility towards this co-leader. In retrospect I would edit that out for respectfulness’ sake, but I leave it because that was very much how I began to feel: hostile towards this leader- but the interruption was not why. In response to her interruption, I jokingly said, “oh, shut me up!” Apparently, the co-leader took this personally. Magically, the group began to transfer all the awkward tension from the session to me and my comment, following the co-leader’s lead. They began grilling me about insecurities and my childhood, asking me what was wrong with me to have said such a thing and so forth. All this occurred within a minute and I had somehow become the problem of the group. I had taken on all the negative energy and the group was focused on me as the source of it.
I began to withdraw which turned into blaming by the group and the parsimonious perfect co-leader for distributing my “negativity” to the group and ruining the group experience. I wanted to dissolve into the couch. I wanted to crawl into a deep dark hole. I wanted to run out of the room. I wanted not to cry. The situation continued to evolve, pigeon-holing me into this negative role. My brain and my tongue were mixed up and I couldn’t talk because I thought my eyes would start to leak. The session ended. I kept up my collected façade until I got to the stairwell, leaving my group to ride the elevator together. Then I ran- I ran down the stairs and outside the building. My heart was pounding in my chest. I felt hurt, my cheeks were wet. I collapsed onto a bench to collect myself as panic set in.
In retrospect it is clear what type of transference occurred in that room. The older women assumed roles of defensive mothers towards resistant children. I assumed my childhood role of taking the negativity and anger without comment or complaint. The other tense group members followed suit and the negative, tense energy all went to me. I was the group scapegoat. They brought up too much too fast without any trust or rapport to speak of, and everyone, not just me, reverted to their more insecure, subjective selves. However, this does not by any stretch of the imagination excuse the co-leaders for the damage done in that session. It was nothing short of a first-session disaster forged from violating the basic rules of the beginning stage. Don’t push people too hard, don’t leave negativity unaddressed, don’t scapegoat anyone.
Needless to say, I fought an internal struggle the rest of that weekend to keep a positive attitude. The small groups were set to meet once or twice a day for the remainder of the weekend. I was terrified to go back. I lost sleep. I had nightmares. I even had a panic attack. Not to mention anything I planned on taking from this session in terms of my own personal and professional development had taken a major backseat. I am proud to say I somehow found the courage to go back to the next group meeting. I was hurting so bad, and feeling so scared, it was all I could do not to cry during that meeting. Group members shared feelings about my “hostility” and said I was “punishing them” for not talking that session. They said they had had bad dreams. I wonder if any of them considered that if they had had bad dreams, what it was that I had gone through. The perfect co-leader joined in the hurtful banter with how one person can destroy a group dynamic. They all said they were working so hard to “help me.” Still, I could say nothing. I was too hurt, I was too emotional. My throat wouldn’t let any words out. The second small group session ended.
The presentations and lectures of the weekend were long. Some felt relevant, some did not. I tried to suppress my feelings and learn what I could. I was lucky to have friends around me to help me keep it together that weekend. It was hard, and I didn’t need it. Even now, writing about it, it still hurts. Isn’t it funny how three hours with strangers can have that effect?
The last small group session was first thing Sunday morning. Again, I mustered the courage to go. By now the group had some side issues they were discussing and helping each other with. Still, I could not talk. Finally, towards the very end of the 90 minutes, I had convinced myself I needed to say something to the group, and that I could manage it while containing my feelings. I told them that I had felt targeted. I told them that during the first session I felt that I had become the center of all the negative and tense energy. I explained how excited I was to come to the conference and my feelings of confusion about what had happened in group the past few days, that I was not the person they thought I was.
Feeling pressured to give the group more to increase my likeability and therefore their ability to empathize (think about that statement, it upsets me that it was true) I told them about some of my past. I told them about my religious family and my role as the center of negativity for second- guessing religion. I told them how at times I thought that if my family was going to think of me badly, I might as well give that to them; after all, they thought it already. Someone from the group said that I did not have to act a certain way to be liked or not liked in group. I countered her, my boldness increasing, by saying that I did. That it was not until I told the group about myself and some of my own story, that they felt okay about me and “forgave” me. I told them I wasn’t ready to share that stuff with them, but that I thought that my options were to do that, or to leave carrying all the hostility, and that apparently, I was right. The group said nothing. The parsimonious perfect leader went into a story about how she was trying so hard to be a good therapist. The group focused on sympathizing with her. The session ended.
Bringing the weekend experience full-circle I honestly have to say that it was a terrible experience. For a few weeks after that I struggled with feelings of anxiety and sadness related to the small group sessions and what they brought up for me. I had been traumatized by my weekend on working with trauma in groups. I had to do a lot of self-care and self-reassurance that I was not the things that I had been labeled. I was even forced to address concerns surfaced by the experience about being a counselor at all. These things should not have happened as a result of that weekend, at least not in that way.
Feeling hurt the way that I do by the events of that conference weekend, I will admit it is hard for me to speak respectfully of the benefits it had for me. However, no matter how difficult the weekend was for me emotionally, I did learn important things that I will never forget. Some of those things are about good friends and inner strengths and are for a different essay. The one thing I learned that is important here is how it feels to be the ostracized group member. I learned first-hand the devastating consequences of neglecting to address conflict and forcing members to tell too much too quickly. I saw how damaging isolation and scapegoating is. I was lucky to have self-care strategies, a support system, and insight to get through my negative group experience. Many people do not. All the teens in my teen empowerment group have problems in one if not more of those areas. I learned that the guidelines in terms of group stages (the beginning stage most especially) are not just written for academic structure and teaching. They are written because they matter, and because they absolutely cannot be neglected.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
