Spring 2007

       Pilgrimage

Mission Statement
 Our Vision: Healing, hope and growth
 Our Concern:The whole person — mind, spirit, and body
  Our Approach:Psychotherapy, pastoral counseling and education
 Our Goal:Service to all in need"

The last time I was that tense for that long was probably in sixth grade, when I was assigned to crossing-guard duty with a girl with whom I was so smitten and of whom I was so terrified that I could barely remain conscious any time she was close enough to notice my existence.

On this occasion, though, there were no redeeming romantic qualities. I was 29 years old, sitting in an overstuffed chair on the third floor of the Danielsen Institute in Boston, clutching a pad of paper with such intensity that my fingerprints were registering four or five sheets down. The occasion: my first session as a professional psychotherapist.  

Across from me was a frustrated fellow about my age — the client — who had come seeking help with something or other. It was hard for me to focus on his actual words because my heart was pounding so loud and because I kept noticing the dubious looks he was sending my way. Possibly he was noticing my tension: in spite of my heart’s triple timing, the blood had drained entirely from my face and hands.

What words I did catch, I transcribed furiously. I wasn’t particularly trying to understand them, I was too busy writing them down. I felt I needed to catch every single comment, complete with punctuation marks and any stray italics, so that later I could hand the complete transcript to my supervisor. He actually knew what he was doing, and I had faith that he could figure out what I should have been saying, which certainly wasn’t the confused mumbling I was actually producing just then.

Those fifty minutes took approximately six years to complete. As they mercifully wound down, my brand-new client said something kindly like, “I don’t think I’ll be coming back for another session. This just feels too much like another classroom role-play.”

I felt a little sad (I’d failed in my first attempt), a little busted (it felt like a role-play to me, too), fairly ashamed (this guy realized what a loser I was) and tremendously relieved: with luck, I’d never have to endure the embarrassment of seeing this fellow again in my life! So I congratulated him on his perceptiveness, wished him well, and said good-bye.

I should note that things are better now, psychotherapy-wise.

I remembered this incident recently (and winced) while reading material by D.W. Winnicott, a prominent psychoanalyst in the middle of the last century. He wrote: “Psychotherapy takes place in the overlap of two areas of playing, that of the patient and that of the therapist Psychotherapy has to do with two people playing together. The corollary of this is that where playing is not possible then the work done by the therapist is directed towards bringing the patient from a state of not being able to play into a state of being able to play.” Play was the farthest thing from my mind that awful day. But since then I’ve learned.

Of course, many would disagree with Winnicott: psychotherapy isn’t about play, it’s about work, it’s science, or medicine, or something else equally serious and somber. They’d be at least partially right. The work of healing the mind is quite serious, and requires specialized training, and needs to be informed by scientific and medical insight
 

But if that’s all psychotherapy is, then psychotherapy is as depressing as whatever depression it might be attempting to treat There is truly an element of play that is as central to healing as whatever work is involved. As Winnicott notes, play isn’t always present at the beginning of treatment, but when things go well, it has emerged by the end.

Before we can play, we have to feel safe and accepted. We have to believe that there is room for us and for our happiness in the world. We have to have been shown how to play, been encouraged to play, been praised for playing. A sad and surprising number of children (and adults) have been deprived of play, have never learned to play, or possibly haven’t been able to play for so long that they’ve forgotten how.

Play is crucial to fulfilling intimate relationships. Imagine being a spouse or a parent without being able to laugh, to be spontaneous and unselfconscious with the ones you love: it can be done, but it’s not pretty.

I think just now of a woman who came for counseling. She’d raised her children, found fulfillment in a profession she enjoyed, lived in a beautiful home. She was devastated when her husband suddenly left, announced his love for another, and declared his intention to divorce her. The shock left her emotionally damaged in many ways.

She showed no capacity for playfulness. At the time, that was the least of her worries. (And mine.) But as she went through the slow process of healing, playfulness didn’t emerge when it usually does. I asked about this, and she talked about being an oldest child in a humorless family that placed a premium on work and duty. She couldn’t remember playing, having fun, laughing freely. Later, as a parent, she went about the serious business of making sure her children played, but she couldn’t join them in it. With her husband she was dutiful, but sad — early in the marriage, he seemed to bring fun and playfulness, but somewhere that got lost, and she retreated into work.

It was so sad talking about all these losses, about all the play that never happened, all the happiness she didn’t have. Yet as she grieved this, it freed her to give play a try now: wordplay at first, laughing about a pun or double meaning; then she’d tell of trying something new or spontaneous with a friend between sessions. Bit by bit, she learned to play. When we finally ended the work, she was still sad to be alone, but now the sadness had a companion: the joy of this new playfulness, this happy spontaneity, this creative ability to find laughter.

 

Learning to play wasn’t what she came to the Samaritan Center for. She came for healing, and found that. Healing brings play; play helps healing happen.

Samaritan Center Staff

 Joining previously announced 2007 members Stephen Arnold, Paula Barb, Braden McCormick, Joan Rhoade, and Suzanne Wyatt are:

Juli Meyer, of Goshen, is a Manager in the tax department at RSM McGladrey in the Elkhart office. She is the treasurer and member of the board of directors of the Elkhart Child Development Center and recently graduated from the Elkhart Leadership Academy through the Chamber of Commerce. She enjoys spending time with her daughter, planting flowers, landscaping, and reading. Juli’s special contribution to the board is her skill of processing financial data and her dedication to commitments.

Nicole Ross is a Private Banker in the Private Investments Department at 5th/3rd Bank. She lives in Osceola with her family and attends Queen of Peace Catholic Church. Nicole has also been on the board of The Family and Children Center. In her free time she enjoys football, golf baseball, gardening and traveling.

When I was a child, playing meant I left the house right after breakfast to go outside with my friends only to return home for lunch and dinner. We played the usual childhood games, played in the creek, and rode bikes. Neither I nor my parents thought about what “play” was. My parents just sent us out “to play” and we willingly “played.”

As an infant, play is how the child learns about his/her physical environment and how an interactive, empathic, bonded relationship with the parents is established. Play introduces joy and excitement which is essential for the child to develop a zest for life and engagement with other children and later in all relationships. Through playing with their baby and later their older child, parents come to see themselves as loving, giving, resourceful, confident and competent. Play is developmentally necessary for both child and parent.

Wow, this almost sounds like “work!” In reality, play is the child’s “work” or task.

So, what happens to our “play” as adults? Sadly, it sometimes falls by the wayside thought of as “child’s play.” As adults, some falsely believe play is “too childish” or as an adult, “I do not have time.”

As therapy begins, no matter the age of the client, I always ask, “What do you do for fun?” Too often the answer is, “Nothing anymore.” As life becomes increasingly stressful or depression sets in, play is the first to go. For adults, “play” can increase energy, foster new perspectives, and rekindle a zest and enjoyment of life. Even in adulthood, play is vital for a balanced life. So, on this sunny spring day, I encourage you all to “Go outside and play.” For me, I’m going camping.

With young children, their play is their work. It is how they develop into who they are. At the age of 4, my nephew knew the name of and use for every piece of farm equipment . He believed that the dirtier you got the harder you had worked so he worked hard at getting dirty in his play. He now owns his own construction company where he gets to “play” with big earth moving equipment. His play later formed his work. 

I remember as a young mother struggling to get my sons to pick up their toys. One day we watched Mary Poppins where toys magically fly back into place. I suggested pretending Mary Poppins was at our house. Picking up the toys became “fun” as they made them magically “fly” to their rightful spots. Play can improve parent child relationships. I am trying to help a father rebuild a relation- ship with his son by encouraging play and a sense of humor rather than being the critical, demanding parent he has become. Play is crucial in this situation. 

In adolescence, play is important to social relationships. Teens try on identities and relationships and begin to prepare to choose life partners and careers. Sports allow kids to have fun and learn life lessons: following rules, accepting consequences, cooperation, self-discipline, loyalty. As adults, sports can become one’s career - from playing professionally, to coaching, to selling equipment, etc.

Play is necessary in our lives. I sometimes see adults who seem to have forgotten how to play. They get wrapped up in their work, working very long hours, then come home and only see work to be done there as well. There is no time to play. They might enjoy their work but it isn’t the same as playing or being playful Play can be within the work situation as well. A sense of humor can go a long ways in making our work more tolerable.

Is a task work or is it play? It may be all in our attitude.

there are many dynamics that make marital therapy different and often entertaining. As couples begin they get into a process of “hedging their bets." That is to say, they try to maneuver themselves into positions whereby they cannot be left holding the bag. They offer each other what seems to be revelations of their negative contributions to the martial demise and then quickly take it back suggesting the opposite. In thinking about this I recalled a poignant illustration from Robert Fulghum in his book Everything I Needed to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. On page 76 he shares a credo of his neighbor the insurance salesperson which illustrates this humorous dynamic:
 

• Always trust your fellow man. And always cut the cards.
   
• Always trust God. And always build your house on high ground.
  
  
•  Always love thy neighbor. And always pick a good neighborhood to live in.
  
  
•  The race is not always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, but you better bet that way.
  
  
•  Place your bet somewhere between turning-the-other-cheek and enough-is-enough-already.
  
  
•  Place your bet somewhere between haste-makes-waste and he-who-hesitates is lost.
  
  
• About winning: It isn’t important. What really matters is how you play the game.
  
  
• About losing: It isn’t important. What really matters is how you play the game.
  
  
• About playing the game: Play to win!
  

At times this process is played out to a level equal to any Olympic contest, with all the possible twists and turns and surprise endings. Fortunately it usually dies a somewhat quick death and couples are able to see their folly, enjoy a good laugh about themselves and move into more productive exchanges. But I must confess, that even after 30 years of watching this comedy it still makes me laugh which in turn helps me (and the clients) keep my sanity.

I’m the grief specialist at the Samaritan Center. Precious little humor in that. I did my doctoral research on a death-related topic. Some people thought that was morbid. One wouldn’t expect there to be much laughter in such a line of work.

All of us at the Samaritan Center work with people going through dark times. We hear stories every day of sadness, trauma, brokenness, fear and emptiness. It can be somber work. Every one of us has been asked by a friend or client,  “How can you do this all day long? Isn’t it depressing?”

Yet when identifying a theme for this issue of the newsletter someone suggested the role of play in therapy and everyone around the room was immediately on board. One might think the topic of play more related to the experiences of kindergarten teachers or coaches. Why would a group of therapists so readily agree to write about play? Because we’ve all had the experience of sitting with someone as they discover laughter amid the tears.

I’ve laughed with a group of widows as they shared funny stories about the life partners whose deaths they deeply mourn. I smiled as they found humor in teaching one woman in their group the nuances of pumping gas at a self-serve station—a task she’d never performed. I’ve watched a couple struggling to heal after an infidelity still able to tease one another playfully. I’ve enjoyed the “Freudian slips” we all occasionally make.

Humor is never the main event in a counseling setting and it’s rarely present in the first meetings. It evolves only when an element of trust is present. It speaks of a connection made and a reminder that one is not alone. Play provides hope that healing is possible.

Play is so important to therapists because it’s a lifting of the veil—a glimpse into a part of the self formerly hidden. It’s the beginning of awareness that life can be balanced. In times of darkness, the ability to play, to laugh and to smile is affirmation of the truth the Psalmist speaks when he writes, “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” (Psalm 30)