The act of practicing psychotherapy is, at least somewhat by default, one that deals with the darker parts of the human experience. While therapists are privileged to take part in our patients' transformative growth, we are no strangers to holding space for grief, shame, regret, and all shades of human heartache.
The past several years of psychotherapy—and indeed the American human experience—have transformed as both therapists and patients have navigated a global pandemic and now exist amidst the second iteration of an administration that routinely and malignantly disrupts functional normalcy and targets marginalized populations. Immigrant communities are living in fear of separation from their homes and families; LGBTQ individuals are being stripped of rights and affirmation; public health and education systems have been gutted; and pressure on broadcasters has effectively censored journalism. We are witnessing a return to imperialism and the assassination of an American citizen by a federal agency.
Showing up to do the hard work of psychotherapy in the current climate can feel like offering a spray bottle to our patients as they become engulfed in flames, while we try to stave off our own fires.
In this article, I will not encourage you to practice self-care, move your bodies, or work on breathing exercises—not because these interventions are not effective, but because you already know this. Drink water. Get sleep. Practice the same regulating skills that you teach patients.
So what else can we do?
Look to the Past
We can find connection and possibly hope through past struggles. All of human history is filled with stories of oppressors and uprisings. We could easily—and understandably—frame this as a hopeless confirmation of our doomed human tendency toward violence and greed. Simultaneously, we can choose to interpret this history as inspiring evidence that humanity inexorably moves toward justice and light and ultimately conquers oppression. No triumph happens without hardship, and no battle—be it slavery, disenfranchisement, or genocide—has been won without committed groups of people tirelessly seeking justice.
Look to and Work in the Present Moment
We can validate suffering—our patients' and our own.
It would be impractical to expect ourselves to cultivate words or expressions that fully encapsulate an affirmation of another's pain that has not yet been uttered in the entirety of humanity. Words can sometimes fall short. Tone, however, when emphatic and authentic, can make us feel seen.
We can acknowledge our limitations as well as the power of our role. Some of my recent work with a patient who is herself a psychotherapist addressed a dreadful and overwhelming fear that she is not "doing enough" for her primarily trans patient population. This struck me as profoundly human, but also completely unfounded. My patient is doing front-line, lifesaving work by being present and offering compassion to some of the most vulnerable and targeted groups. And yet, how many times have we—have I—had those same very human, helpless thoughts, wishing we could do more?
We can each do a lot, but no one person can do it all. Fortunately, we are not individuals working in isolation, but rather small parts of a thriving, robust community, collectively working toward what is right in both our professional and personal lives.
We can look to the helpers. We can be inspired by activists, local grassroots efforts, and the seemingly small acts of individual resistance. We have heard that rest and joy are resistance—let's practice that. Look to the patient who recognizes that each day of waking up in a marginalized body is itself an act of defiance against those who wish erasure.
Look to the Future
We can—and must—look to the future with hope. Hope is not the denial of likely hardships yet to come. It is not naïve, but essential, to move toward a belief that we can and must do better for one another. As Bryan Stevenson asserts, "Hopelessness is the enemy of justice." It is only when we give up that goodness can be overtaken. It is only when we persist that we have a chance to overcome.
About the Author
Lauren Demshar Abbott is a practicing psychotherapist with an integrated healthcare system in southeastern Wisconsin. Her areas of interest include anxiety, trauma, mood disorders, mindfulness, and peripartum disorders. She works with adolescents. She uses skills-based and supportive interventions and provides validation and encouragement to empower her patients' innate capacities for healing.