Tag Archives: depth psychotherapy

Storytelling as Medicine

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We are in the season of Spring where i live, which is represented by the element of Air. This is the time of new beginnings, the fresh air of change, the rebirth and the sunrise as a new dawn. Air is connected to the suit of swords in Tarot, which are all about action, ambition, courage and change. Air is also magical for the speaker and listener. We use our words, and repeat them into the air by casting a spell with our words. When we speak out loud what we want, we are in fact speaking our truth more assertively and intentionally.

Storytelling is one of the oldest and most universal forms of community-building. We are not meant to tell stories alone, they are meant to be shared. And, since we are social creatures, we heal in healthy relationships. I view storytelling as a resource for healing, growth and transformation. Integration and acceptance of a new life transition or realization cannot truly happen without being witnessed and companioned through it. Stories are meant to be shared with listeners who hold space for the story and teller, both. This form of holding space ultimately becomes a catalyst to be more fully actualized as ourselves.

Here are some ways that i have found being a story listener to be a central piece in how i work and hold space as a psychotherapist. As a psychotherapist who works from a feminist, narrative framework, story-telling and listening, as well as holding space is a big part of the alchemy that happens in my therapy sessions. Feminist Narrative Therapy is a post-modern modality of therapy that is based in a deeper connection to the subjective meaning that is typically lost in everyday conversations.

Talk therapy gets a bad wrap and yet I’ve noticed that it is through speaking out loud that we get the opportunity of integration that helps our cognitive parts understand the information we receive from our body. We need to talk in order to process the work of everyday life. It is a balance of both/and of talking and doing. We offer this integration after major trips and pilgrimages, or a psychedelic immersion. Birth story processing is a key resource to help folks heal from birth trauma. Sometimes the experience is quiet reflection alone, or in a journal, but it is typically recapping or debriefing the story that unfolded regardless.

“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ~ Maya Angelou

I used to work as a front-line crisis counsellor for folks who experienced gender-based violence. One of the strongest messages in the gender-based violence sector is that ‘your silence will not protect you.’ These powerful words by Audre Lorde are a direct proclamation of the power of healing that can happen when we share the truth of our lives. We also now know that we do not need to in fact go over our past traumas in chronologically story-book form in order to heal them. This is not how healing works, and yet when a person wants to be witnessed in their resilience and strength, that is also a powerfully catalyst to get to heal. One of the programs that i was most honoured to organize was an annual gathering for the people we supported. We would spend the day together, in workshops and intentionally sharing stories of healing and resilience. One of the stages of Post-Traumatic Growth is to share our story as a way to heal, and to also be an inspiration for others.

Stories help heal shame, as it is in the shared experience and common humanity that we offer a balm to shame, which would otherwise thrive in isolation. I have found this especially empowering for the people i support who may carry limiting beliefs about themselves, their bodies, or how they gave birth, or the break-up or break-down they experienced.

Some stories do not have to be real to be impactful. They jut need to be relatable in some way.

Archetype stories have become a special kind of steward for me, in so many ways – when i became an adult, a mother, and also in the years since becoming motherless. Now, as i surrender to perimenopause i am once again reading the feminine-based archetypal stories that feature wise women, medicine women, wild women, hags and crones. Myths and fairy/folk tales offer a universal truth for all of us, as well as a map that is possible for us. Any one of us can read the story and glean something that is familiar in it that reflects our own lived reality. This is comforting and affirming.

Marion Woodman was a great advocate for archetypal stories. In her book The Maiden King she shares this: “Our bodies love metaphors because they join our bodies to our soul rather than abandoning them to a soulless state. The ancient alchemists called this body soul state “the subtle body”. They believed that the deeper we go into the subtle body, the greater the soul treasures it contains.” I would take this point a step further and connect it to how stories in general are a way to deepen our relationship with our soul. If you have ever been in my therapy room with me, you will know that i love to share a good story as a metaphor as a way to explain a theory or experience.

Just as we are not meant to be alone with a story to tell, so too are we not meant to be alone in our grief. Transformation can happen for grievers when they are able to share these stories with someone who holds space for them, and both welcomes and encourages the stories to flow. This is done through the power of storytelling.

When my mom died, something that i found so kind and generous was when people in my life asked me to talk about her, to share her stories, to honour her legacy. In my own therapy practice, i offer grief work and tending to the broken hearts of someone who has experienced loss. I see how transformative this dedicated time is in the healing journey. It is through the process of being seen and heard that anyone who is grieving a loss can feel more held and less alone. Incorporating narrative in this stage is a helpful way to establish a more full sense of self.

Taking this a step further, when people are given an audience that is both compassionate and attuned, links can be made to the story and to their own life. For instance, I have found solace in cleaning out my mother’s things. Being able to share the experience of cleaning out my mother’s belongings is a universally understood rite of passage. We are not meant to do it alone, even if the act itself is a solitary process. Friends who asked me more than the standard “how are you?” received a more full and true account of my learnings and discoveries.

“Stories can be helpful tools for surviving hardship and navigating complexity. That is, when we craft them as sturdy boats, built to our dimensions and desires. But many stories are bigger than our single lives and desires. Many stories are invisible: so big, so culturally ingrained, that we are blind to the ways in which they drive and constrain our lives.” The Body is a Doorway, Sophie Strand

Not only was my grief more held, it was in the telling of the stories that i was able to come alive amidst my mourning. I was also able to truly express what i was going through, in detail. This invitation offered depth and spaciousness for me to debrief, unpack, and process what i was encountering in my grief.

No one is fully prepared for the time that their mother dies, no matter how expected it is, nor if the griever is a therapist herself, well-versed in holding space in grief counselling. I had to find the right balance between my personal grief process and my role as a psychotherapist who is well-versed in the healing balm of storytelling.

Where does the listener turn when she needs to be held and companioned through her own loss?

As we see in Rites of Passage theory, it is necessary to be witnessed in the transition from one version of us to a new sense of self. This is in fact, a way that we can move through the process of a rite of passage such as mother loss. Being witnessed in this transition is what can deepen the healing process, and in fact get to a more transformed and integrated sense of self.

In these dark and painful times, i’m turning to fantasy novels as support, solace, and sisterhood. For instance, in Starhawk’s novel Walking to Mercury, she shares that the healing that happens from ritual isn’t necessarily the trance work, drumming, dancing or singing that helps. “What healed was simply the opening to speak their pain and have it heard.”

I am working on ways to decolonize my therapy practice and life in general. In Dr. Jen Mullan’s book, Decolonizing Therapy, she shares powerful insights and guidance on how to shift from a western capitalist model to one that is more holistic and person-centred. As i deepen into my own process, i am reclaiming trust in my ability to bring in more a psychospiritual lens. While therapy is not inherently a ritual, we can infuse ritual into our work together. ((Stay tuned to my next journal article where i share some of the ways i do just that.)) ETA: Immediately after i posted this, i saw someone i deeply admire also share that “ritual is the original therapy.” One of the most beautiful experiences to witness is the shift folks experience when they sit in session and have someone who holds unconditional regard, a compassionate and non-judgemental stance, and also undivided attention for their story. This is what we call relational alchemy. The ultimate gift is witnessing someone transform and i am given the opportunity to experience vicarious resilience.

I see my therapy practice more and more like a ceremony. It is not mere work, transactional at best or hurtful at worst. Having a “career” is capitalist after all (thank-you Dra. Rocio for this reframe). Sitting together and sharing breath in the same room is a ceremony webbing the invisible golden thread of co-regulation, attunement and medicine between us, through us, and around us. Therapy is a prayer. It doesn’t have to be with another person; it is a catalysing moment that deepens our healing and transforms it. It just needs words spoken in some way to create that shift.

“The truth is, in order to heal we need to tell our stories and have them witnessed…the story itself becomes a vessel that holds us up, that sustains, that allows us to order our jumbled experiences into meaning. As i told my stories of fear, awakening, struggle, and transformation and had them received, heard, and validated by other women, I found healing. I also needed to hear other women’s stories in order to see and embrace my own. Sometimes another woman’s story becomes a mirror that shows me a self that i haven’t seen before. When I listen to her tell it, her experience quickens and clarifies my own. Her questions rouse mine. Her conflicts illuminate my conflicts. Her resolutions call forth my hope. Her strengths summon my strengths. All of this can happen even when our stories and our lives are very different.” ~ Sue Monk Kidd, The Dance of the Dissident Daughter

Healing requires recovery, and it is a life-long journey to heal. Not because we are incapable of doing it better. Rather, new experiences can activate what felt healed in the past and is now being brought back up to the surface, but in a new way. For instance, maybe as a child you were not listened to. Maybe you were never asked to share your dreams or hopes, or what imaginative stories were. Growing up, we then internalise the story literally – that what we have to share is not worthy to be heard by others. The story isn’t the only thing that can be silenced – our dreams and self-worth also are threatened to die inside us.

Therapy can be an alchemizing experience where clients are reborn, birthing their healed self from the embers of a former life. Therapists are the doulas who support their clients in this transition of becoming. When we share how we are feeling or what we need, we are being authentic to ourselves. This level of witnessing or experience and listening with attention also lets us know that we exist and we matter. When we stop speaking up for our feelings and needs, we suffer a level of self-abandonment, and also possibly a true death.

I know this might seem dramatic. And yet I sit with this truth that my mom died because of complications of undiagnosed ovarian cancer. The story she was sharing for so long was that her stomach hurt. I know that this was a complaint, and I also know that no one really took it seriously, including myself. If only someone had listened sooner, I know things would’ve been different.

“During both painful and joyful moments, we can often recall the things that kept us going — the people who mirrored our own goodness to us — the words shared that reminded us of what could be, what could become, what was possible.” Lisa Olivera, in a newsletter

As a feminist therapist, one of our principles is to self-disclose from our lived experience. We don’t share where the wounds are still raw, but where the scars have healed over. Sharing stories can also be so affirming, empowering and inspiring for the folks that I give this medicine to. This shared humanity experience can further fuel their own motivation. Knowledge is Power and sharing resources is also a Feminist principle.

Another aspect of the therapeutic container is that the therapist becomes an active listener to someone’s story, with undivided attention and a very present attention. This then becomes a Reparative Experience – we are given the healing balm of being heard and listened to, and not carrying the fear of being too much, as we possibly once believed. So many of us, especially women, mothers, and life-long care providers are starving for the attention to be seen and heard as well. This may be a band-aid to a larger problem, the mental health and therapy industrial complex exists as an imperfect solution to a lack of strong community and connection. And yet, as we can practice repair work, earning secure attachment, and healing relational wounds in the therapy space, for now this is a solution that works.

The therapeutic relationship offers more than psychoeducation and passive listening. It also is a space for tender acts of affection, and vulnerability by wearing our hearts on our lab coat sleeves now and then. A compassionate witness and true space holder listens with reverence. Having a place to reflect and unpack can be alchemical.

At least for me, it is more than just a couch and a quiet nod. I get right into your story, and get comfy in my chair or on the floor right beside you.

The Journey to Me: Shadow Work and the Many Moons of the Self

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I recently completed a course called Shadow Work, offered by Amy Wright Glenn at the Institute for Birth, Breath and Death. In honour of this darkening time of the year, I’m sharing a version of my final paper with you here.

Each of us are made up of parts that make us complex and unique individuals. For most of us, some of these layers are hidden in shadow, not unlike a Russian Nesting Doll or that dark corner in our basement. While they are always present, it can be hard to know when they show up and become revealed, and for what purpose.

As humans, each of us also has the experience of living through some type of trauma or pain. Depending on the support we are given at the time, it can become a deeper wound or shadow that then presents itself when triggered later on in life. Shadows are embedded in us. Carl Jung shared that the shadow is a part of a person’s psyche that stores the parts of the Self that are seen as unacceptable or uncomfortable. They then move into our shadows and become unconsciously unaware. Shadow Parts show up later in life by trying to keep you safe and not get hurt, but sometimes it’s overdoing its job.

We do not have just one Shadow, but several, built over time. One type of Shadow is our Inner Child – raw, immature emotions that get stuck in us during an especially hard or unfulfilled time in our life.

Shadows start to form in childhood, especially after age 8 or 9 when human development connects to autonomy, self-esteem and a sense of self. As my own children are 11 and 8 years old, I am seeing in real time how this starts to happen. Their full personalities are forming, as are the parts of themselves that they are self-critical about or struggling with. They also mirror the parts of myself as their parent who is modeling for them how I cope with the big emotions in my life. As Amy Wright Glenn shares in her book Holding Space: On Loving, Dying and Letting Go, children need to see our smaller grief and ways that we heal it, so that we create scaffolding for our children against the bigger losses that happen later in life.

The Shadow side may compare yourself to others, or even other times in our life. It wants to preserve connection with others, so may fawn or appease to get that connection, even if it means that the Self is being martyred or self-sacrificed. That is usually from a history of not having secure attachment or healthy bonds in childhood. As humans, we thrive on social engagement, not unlike other animals like wolves or elephants.

Many family dynamics include intergenerational trauma as well as learning. We inherit our ancestors’ shadows, and they can become active or remain dormant in us. Trapped emotions become shadows as they are like hungry ghosts in us that cause disharmony; we also taught that only easy and good emotions are valid to be seen or shared so many more get hidden in shadows of Self.

The concept of the ‘dark night of the soul’ is when a Shadow part is triggered and brought to feel sadness, confusion, despair or a crisis. When we recognize this work, it is a deep awakening to the healing, growth and transformation we can go through. The Shadow is fuel for the fire that doesn’t want to get to the light.

A word of caution: While the terms shadow and light were historically neutral, we need to be mindful of the covert nature of claiming darkness as bad, wrong or ugly. In today’s world, we need to reclaim the term so that it doesn’t get tied down to white supremacy and internalized power. The dark is not inherently bad. Good grows in the dark too. Think of the seed planted in dark soil, or the beautiful butterfly that is born out of a dark chrysalis state. We can be transformed because of the dark too.

When we befriend our Shadow, we not only heal and accept it, but we accept our true Selves by not cutting off any of the pieces that live with pain.

Over these last few years, I have been doing some soul work, and diving deeper into myself. As a trauma-focused therapist myself, this work is integral. As I have been learning more about Shadow work, Inner Child Healing and somatic bottom-up work that connects the body to healing the mind, I see more fully how my own Shadow lives in me.

For instance, I see how shadows may be in charge when we are triggered by someone else as a quality of them is activating us. For instance, it used to be really hidden in shadows when a certain tone of voice or energy scared me. Now I help people connect it to their own childhood. Maybe your parents grew up in difficult family structures, homes where some feelings were not welcome, or anger and stress overruled affectionate touch. While they tried their best to raise you, they brought their shadows with them when they became parents themselves. Just like Peter Pan’s shadow, they were quite tethered to the parts of their life they were trying to leave behind.

There are shadow sides of the feminine as well as masculine. As a girl growing up in the big world of 1980s (or pick your decade!), I learned quite early to have a strong emphasis on being good, pretty, or embody positive vibes. I had to cast out negativity in order to feel safe, which meant I also couldn’t show the harder feelings like sadness or anger, let alone fear. This led me to be stuck in a rut of sameness as I was conditioned to be the good girl to a fault. Good girls don’t complain or disagree. They don’t have strong feelings. Like many people, I learned to say “I’m fine” even when I’m not. This too is a shadow part trying to protect us: Instead of being honest, these words cover up my true feelings as they are seen as too sensitive or vulnerable. Even though girls are conditioned to be more sensitive than people in male bodies, it is still quite unacceptable to show the fuller range of emotions and vulnerability.

I got my period at quite a young age and so my body was also sexualized by men. A shadow side that was brought forth was the part of me that should know more about toying with men or flirting with them, and yet the innocent side of me didn’t align or allow for my sexual self to be accessed as I got older. I hated my sexual body for a long time. It has been a wonderful journey to reclaim it.

I shy away from conflict. And when in conflict, our shadows tend to show up because they were not taken care of before. They are trying to protect us and instead we complain and our pride gets in the way of healing and repair work. I used to want to flee but now as an adult, a part of me goes into fight mode. I used to fawn more, and have been working on this people-pleasing part. Shadows live in the murky boundaries that don’t get enforced. They rely on our loyalty. As Pixie Lighthorse shares though, “comfort is not a companion to change.” We need discomfort in order to create the shift that is needed.

Based on our survival response, when in conflict our shadows show up and say:
Fight – “No I’m not, you are!”
Flee – “I’m out of here”
Fawn – “oh my goodness I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
Freeze – “I can’t do anything so why try…”

In order to see the gold in us, we need to practice alchemy to bring out the shadow parts and integrate them. Yet we hang it in self-doubt, negative self-talk and worthlessness too long. We judge ourselves and are critical of others when we are scared. My Inner Critic keeps my Imposter Syndrome alive and active so I don’t take those esquisite risks. I see this in myself, especially as I continue to be a perpetual student instead of embracing my own expertise and knowledge to be a leader. What else am I training for?

Our own amazingness also lives in our shadow Self, as doubt and shame are a shadow. We tend to hang out in worthlessness too long. Ironically the stems from being told having pride or a positive self regard is also a negative aspect of self or ego. We need to feel in connection with others in order to lessen the impact of shame or doubt. When we are in community and share stories, we see the mirrors of our soul reflected in others experiences that are so similar.

Imposter Syndrome sets us up to fail as it’s in bed with our Inner Critic voice. While technically trying to save us from getting hurt, it is in fact what is hurting me. We need to embrace a collective change to be inclusive and supportive of each other instead of competitive and comparative in suffering, productive and successful to a fault.

There is Work to Do
Shadow Work has been brought to light in many ways, especially these last few months during a global pandemic as well as with anti-black racism in the States. Generally, shadow work is a personal process, one that is about the individual facing, confronting, and then integrating their shadows. As we live in community and thrive when in connection others, we cannot negate the relational aspect of also needing to heal our collective shadows that live in our external worlds with others. Hence, shadow work needs to be both internal and community-based intentions.

We have been called to unlearn inherited stories, and instead focus on collective healing. This work is the calling to bring what was before unconscious and subconscious to the forefront. Shadow work is the evolution to heal our primal Nervous System response as our shadow always wants to be revealed and integrated with love.

“Rituals are created to serve humanity and help us awaken from slumbers of ignorance” shares Amy Wright. One key part of this work is to intentionally connect individual repair work to the more collective reparations that are needed. It may be hard to say sorry and own our mistakes and yet this is crucial to repair and integrate our Shadows into our true Selves.

Shadow Work is uncovering what is hidden in the layers of the sub- or unconscious so that we can integrate them and also heal our lineages. We need to see it for what it is and give it self-care and nourishment, just like we would a physical wound or ailment. We need to like and appreciate all our parts.

Pixie Lighthorse wisely shares that a return to liberation as “shadow work is an act of liberation” as it is a collective healing and anti-oppression work in its full essence. She further shares in her book Goldmining the Shadows, “composting fear and pain in order to grow self-compassion and overall wellness is alchemy which needs fuel and functionality.”

Shadow Work is very similar to Richard Schwartz’ work with Internal Family Systems, where he talks about the 8 C’s of Self – compassion, calm, connectedness, creativity, curiosity, clarity, confident, and courage. My Self needs to be in charge, so I know it is there if any of these “C’s” are present. When we get stalled, it’s because something in us is not yet seen and hides in shadow. When we show empathy for the parts of our Self that weren’t loved before, this new wholeness helps interrupt Parts that are so wounded and exiled that they can’t see a way out.

Another layer of Shadow Work is spending time in mindful contemplation of our body: Somatic work like this helps us notice where the shadow lives in my body. For me, it lives in my stomach or gut (our second brain) as well as my racing heart. When I feed my shadow love, compassion and attention, it feels more calm and cared for.

We also need to re-parenting ourselves, which accesses hope for a secure attachment, possibly for the first time. It is not indulgence but rather self-preservation to do this work. Amy Wright shares how “love weaves meaning between the 2 thresholds…as the work of holding space for our fears and the hungry ghosts is ultimately one of love.” One way to do this is to practice the art of re-parenting ourselves. Reparenting isn’t denial of the parent we had, but rather what our inner child still needs. That young brain needs to heal what it needed back then and didn’t receive.

Shadow work is the evolution to heal our primal Nervous System response, unbeknownst to us our shadow does always want to be revealed. This work is self-compassionate work for our body mind and soul.

We need to feel your feelings or stay with them in order to get through them. Otherwise they keep showing up, coming out of the shadows to test us. Nothing is permanent, even our feelings. We can’t rush this work, nor is it a quick lesson. Working with our shadows needs a personalized healing balm to care for Mind Body Spirit in intentional ways. There are some great ingredients like knowing self-regulation AND co-regulation exercises and learning more about Polyvagal Theory and Vagus/Soul Nerve. As humans, we need a sense of belonging and collective. Our Shadows rely on being alone in order to stay alive in the darkness. Nature can also heal me like a tree or lake needs Mother Earth. Self-compassion is a practice of building trust in myself and what I need in the here-and-now moment.

This is a crucial time in history. The elections in the States have shown the dark side of the moon, and yet there is hope moving forward. “In becoming intimate with your injuries, you are befriending your innermost self.” This trust will help you develop deeper relationships with others as well. This is the reward of shadow work – being seen for my shadows as well as valuing yours. I hold space for us both and we step towards the light.

When we get stalled it is because something in us is not yet seen and hides in shadow. It is time to slow down and notice what is hidden then. You can do it alone, or ask a trusted friend what part of you needs to be tended to with self-compassion. Sit with your Shadow and welcome it with open arms.

What lives in your shadows?