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Bonding
in Relationship:
A Solution to Violence?
Richard G. Erskine, Ph.D.
AUTHOR’S
POST SCRIPT
After
reading the speech, “Bonding in Relationship: A Solution to Violence?” both
Bill Cornell and Robin Fryer raised some interesting questions about how I
was affected by Stanley, the client who fantasized committing acts of mass
murder. I would like to respond to each of their five questions.
Were you ever worried Stanley
would act-out before the therapy could take effect?
Early
in the therapy, I was focused on treating Stanley’s depression and underlying
cumulative trauma manifested in the script beliefs, “I’m
a failure” and “I don’t belong.” I assumed that his
depressing photographs of destruction and mayhem were only a visual metaphor
to describe the “destruction” of his sense of self-worth and the “mayhem” of
his family and peer relationships. I became alarmed when he talked about revenge
and buying another gun for his already large collection. I tried in vain to
get more information. I was worried about his potentially acting on the fantasies.
The
only thing that eased my worrying about him between sessions was that he often
arrived early for our therapy sessions and he seemed eager to both show me
his photographs and to tell me how something was “wrong” with him.
Periodically he would call me “just to talk”. We were forming a
relationship even though he would not let me ask about his fantasies of revenge
and killing or about his guns.
The
more he voluntarily told me about his childhood the more relaxed I became.
He was at least talking-out his frustrations and anger, even though he claimed
to have no feelings. Once Stanley’s profound sense of shame became central
to the therapy and he was again able to cry, my worry about his violently acting-out
his childhood humiliation and rejection began to subside. He seemed committed
to psychotherapy.
Did you ever consider whether
to report Stanley to authorities as a potential threat to someone?
Yes,
this was a major consideration in response to both state laws and professional
ethics. My consultations with respected colleagues helped organize priorities
and concerns about public safety, therapeutic effectiveness and ethics. I often
thought about how ineffective such a report to the police would be. I had no
useful information except that he was buying another gun. In the first year
and a half, I had no knowledge of the extent of his fantasies; all I had was
my impressions of his photographs and his refusal to answer my questions.
Any
police report I could have made would have either produced a routine and inconsequential
police investigation or it would have been ignored by authorities because I
had no useful information – I only had my intuition about the meaning
in the photographs, his comment that he was “hiding things” from
me, and the knowledge that he legally possessed several guns. Any inkling of
a report or investigation would have prompted Stanley to abruptly terminate
therapy. At no time were Stanley’s fantasies about specific people who
may have been in danger. By the time I knew the content, extent, and frequency
of the fantasies Stanley was highly committed to the therapeutic relationship.
Did you ever fear for your own
safety?
No,
Stanley never displayed the exaggerated physical presence that many paranoids
have nor did he try to induce fear in me a psychopath may have tried. I grew
up in an inner city neighborhood where physical violence and murder were prevalent.
I also worked in a maximum-security prison for four years. I’ve lived
and worked with many severe paranoids and psychopaths. I know their vibes.
I had no inner sense in relating to Stanley that I was ever in danger. We were
able to make real contact and that is an important antidote to violence.
At
first he seemed depressed and later full of shame. By the time I discovered
the content and intensity of Stanley’s fantasies we had developed a strong
interpersonal bond. By the second year I learned that one of my primary therapeutic
functions was to provide protection – protection for Stanley against
both the escalation of his own fantasies and his being overwhelmed by shame.
I
provided a protective barrier to his continued sense of shame and script belief. “Something’s
wrong with me.” Our therapy centered on helping him understand the relational
disturbances that were the origin of the shame and to acknowledge his hurt
at not being accepted, as he was, the fear of rejection for who he
was and his natural anger at the humiliation he received. I provided protection
against the escalation of fantasies by listening and being interested in the
details of his many fantasies and particularly by helping him identify the
psychological functions imbedded in each fantasy, for example, predictability,
identity, continuity, stability.
Did you work with Stanley in any
way that was different than usual because of fears of violence or acting-out
on Stanley’s part?
During
the first year of therapy my fear of Stanley’s acting-out violence propelled
me to question him about his guns, thoughts of revenge and killing and photos
of mayhem rather than maintain a phenomenological inquiry and a sustained attuned
response. My use of interrogation almost ruined the therapy; he became distrustful,
more distant and told me even fewer details. Rather than inquire –
a therapeutic method intended for the client to gain greater awareness of his
own inner process of feelings, needs, memories, fantasies, and motivations – I
asked factual questions, a form of interrogation, as a way to satisfy my curiosity
and hopefully (although unconscious at the time) alleviate my anxiety about
the potential of Stanley’s acting out his inner violence. Stanley trained
me to listen to him rather than question him. It was only when I attentively
listened to what he chose to tell me that he became more elaborative and began
to rely on our relationship.
When
I returned to a phenomenological inquiry, he became more expressive; repressed
memories and feelings emerged. Eventually through phenomenological inquiry
and sustained attunement, Stanley was able to be conscious of the previously
unconscious functions of his fantasies.
What kind of counter transference
issues came up for you?
As
I described in the previous question, my use of interrogation rather than phenomenological
inquiry was for the relief of my own anxiety. I wanted to know all the details
about Stanley’s revengeful fantasies and plans and I wanted to know them
quickly. This is one form of counter transference that almost destroyed the
therapy.
Another
form of counter transference was quite beneficial in advancing the therapy.
I was repeatedly surprised at how Stanley’s fantasies reawakened in me
my own adolescent fantasies of revenge against humiliation. I remembered the
powerful feelings of omnipotence and success that accompanied my fantasies
of revenge. I could once again appreciate that the wish imbedded in each fantasy
to be strong, brave, powerful and valued. I too, wanted to be a hero rather
than feel shame.
These
awareness of my own developmental processes, psychological functions, and psychotherapeutic
journey increased my sensitivity to Stanley’s level of fixated development,
the effects of cumulative trauma and relational needs imbedded in the fantasies – the
need for security in relationship, the need for self-definition, and the need
to make an impact on significant others.
Through
my own identification with Stanley, free association, subsequent increased
awareness of my own psychological progresses my counter transference reactions
helped to relax my anxiety, provided a sensitivity necessary for sustained
affective attunement and facilitated the establishment of a consistent healing
relationship. It has been a personal and professional privilege to be a part
of Stanley’s network of relationships.
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