TrainingMy first lesson in therapy came from Ronald D. Laing.R onald D. Laing became internationally notorious because of his rebellious outlook on traditional psychiatry. According to him, the “insane” had a right to speak and be heard with compassion, person to person, not just doctor to patient. Only then could they uncover their identity, be more comfortable in their own skin, and feel less out of touch with others.
And because he said that he listened to others with his own share of madness, I thought to myself that maybe he would understand me and wanted to meet him.
Despite my masters in psychology, I couldn’t envision being trained in psychoanalysis. I did not think it would lead me to become a viable human being for myself or for those close to me. Thanks to psychoanalysis, I was able to stop feeling guilty by learning that everyone keeps a part of themselves hidden. I realized that I didn’t have any desires at all, that I was empty, hoping not to drown, barely surviving. Fortunately, my odd behavior amused my friends, so I wasn’t totally isolated and alone. But inside, I felt vacant, incapable of knowing how I felt. I needed someone to take my hand, to save me from myself, to give me back my life, to help me stop tormenting myself, to live my life for me. I was no one and I didn’t think anyone but Ronald D. Laing could understand me. But it was very difficult to have Ronald D. Laing as a therapist. He was very busy in England, creating three centers for patients considered to be schizophrenic. I went to Switzerland, to Zurich, to meet him. He was leading a training course for psychotherapists on his approach to mental illness. Fresh out of university, I enrolled with the hope that he would discover what I was really suffering from. At one point, he asked if anyone would like to volunteer for a demonstration in front of the group, and I raised my hand. He asked me to describe my problem. I replied that I didn’t feel like a woman, or even a person. Then we were at the end of the afternoon session and he proposed that we resume the demonstration the next day, the last day of the course. But the next day, he had changed his mind. He wanted to show the group videos of his work with schizophrenics, and asked the course organizer to let me know of the last-minute changes and to tell me that he and I would have a private conversation after the course, on the way back to his hotel. Because this was a training course and not a psychotherapy session, I assumed that I had to accept. Moreover, he was very seductive. I would have been happy if there had been a double meaning to his proposition, but I told myself that therapy was much more important for me than a man, no matter how sexy he was. After lunch, he announced to the group that he and I had arranged to meet after the session about the issue I had raised the night before, and he would instead show videos. The equipment was already all set up.Courageously, I clarified, saying that we hadn’t “decided” to meet, but that, because this was a training course and not a therapy session, I had felt obligated to accept his proposition. I, on the other hand, would have liked to continue the demonstration with him in front of the group. The thirty or so people in the room all expressed a wish to see him work with me “live” rather than watching videos. Furious, he motioned to the organizers to clear the tables, the TV, the video cassettes, and to arrange the chairs in a circle, and he signaled all of us to sit down. He sat down too, but in a closed-off position, with his legs crossed, one elbow on his lap, his chin in his hand, and gazing at the floor. As a single body, all of the other participants sat down too and cast their eyes in my direction. «“So, Catherine!” someone said. “So, what?” I responded. “What can I do with a therapist who is withdrawn and obviously doesn’t want to work with me?” Ronald D. Laing kept staring at the floor with a closed-off air. Someone in the audience told me: “Go ahead!”. An American girl added, “If you don’t grab this opportunity, you’ll regret it!”. I imagined what my future would be like and decided that she was right. I had the chance to work with a psychiatrist who understood the mentally ill and used his own share of madness to treat them. I would have regretted not seizing this opportunity all my life. I took my chair and approached him as he continued staring at the floor with an air of detachment. Seeing me approach, he made an abrupt gesture so that I wouldn’t get too close. I put my chair down at a distance that seemed appropriate for him because it didn’t make him flinch, and I began. I don’t remember exactly what I said anymore. I only know that I was relaxed and undemanding. I let the words flow spontaneously in English (everyone spoke English) and said, without a doubt, something like, “I’m French and drove from Paris to meet you. I have many of your books and what I like about you is your humaneness. I thought there was a chance that you would understand me because you say in your books that you work with your own share of madness. This is the first time I’ve heard a psychiatrist admit to having his own share of madness. That’s why I’m here. I don’t think anyone but you can understand me. And you’ve withdrawn into yourself, you’re not looking at me, and I didn’t expect this to happen, but I don’t feel deceived. In doing so, you’re being real and that’s what I was hoping for. I’m happy to have the opportunity to work with such an authentic therapist, even if your authenticity makes you not want to talk to me…”. Towards the end of my speech, he started to raise his head and look at me kindly. He stopped sulking and we had a real exchange. He was very attentive. I no longer remember the content of our conversation, but I discovered that by being relaxed and firm, I could attempt to have an authentic connection with someone, even if at first he didn’t want to. For Ronald D. Laing, even the insane have the right to speak. And it was important that they have opportunities to express themselves and to be in a setting that allowed them to do so. I remember that in some of his videos, he offered a cigarette to a schizophrenic patient during the consultation, or asked if he could borrow one. He established an environment of equals. You didn’t necessarily know, in watching the videos, who was the doctor and who was the patient. He didn’t have, like the others, a gentle, neutral face for looking at his patient and asking how he was and how he felt. A real relationship could be established. Maybe that’s what Ronald D. Laing wanted to impart to us. Therapists aren’t just mirrors. Ronald D. Laing wasn’t there to protect his patient. He proposed a relational framework where the therapist is a human being like any other, in front of whom the patient can find a way to exist. Group psychotherapy
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