Love in Therapy

Are you sitting comfortably? No? You’re squirming in your chair at the very thought of such a topic, aren’t you? And you’re not alone, I assure you as I begin to type, I’m also pondering on the merits of saying what I am about to say.

It all came about following 2 encounters this week with the Freudian phrase

"Analysis is, in essence, a cure through love.”

First time in a therapy session as my therapist told me of an article he’d been reading which, quite frankly, boiled his professional therapeutic blood. I know it might seem unusual to hear that academic writings features in our weekly sessions but we often talk about things besides my emotional turmoil; not that it doesn’t hold enough rich content to fill 50 minutes, but sometimes just shy of an hour talking trauma is a little overwhelming.

My therapist was infuriated by the article, in a leading broadsheet (not his first irritation with said publication) because it was on the topic of ‘erotic transference’ and what happens when therapist and client end up beyond the boundaries and in a romantic and sexual relationship. Importantly, I must say, he was clear how unacceptable that is and how dangerous it can be when that line is overstepped. But his beef with the article focussed in on a particular expert quote. A leading psychotherapist saying

“The therapist should be a blank slate and not divulge any personal information that could lead to envy, admiration, resentment, feelings of failure and much else.”

It's safe to say that my therapist did not concur wholeheartedly with that statement. It’s not reflective of how he works and not the experience of therapy he has given me. Instead he does self-disclose sometimes; not intimate detail, not full life history, but enough so that his clients feel like they know and connect with a fellow human being and not, a piece of inanimate material.

As he shared his frustrations with this professional conundrum I pondered (down the Zoom call, as is the nature of therapy in mid-2020) about both why this ‘blank slate’ stance exists and why some therapists feel confident to go beyond it whilst others stay back from the line.

What struck me as he read on was that the above quote was from a female therapist. Now, I’m no therapist, or great thinker in the world of psychology and human behaviour but I am a woman. I’m a businesswoman too and I care a lot about my credibility and professionalism. I know how I, and other women I’ve worked with, filter our lives and behaviours to ‘fit’ our professional arena. We’re mindful, consciously or sub-consciously, not to be seen as soft, not to talk too much about our children, our lives or our vulnerabilities. I don’t see the same for the men I work with, they seem more at ease showing more of themselves. It struck me that there was no reason for psychologists to be different. Indeed, I suspect that the fear of ‘over-stepping’ an intimate boundary is harboured more so by female therapists who are set on following the letter of the theory and being more overtly detached.

But, like I say, I sit in the other chair.

And then yesterday the phrase came again, in an email directly from my therapist as way of reassuring me that my need for an additional contact was OK because he cared.

He was brave enough to say he cared; indeed, it wasn’t brave for him, it was just a fact and simple for him to share to help me.

And what I’ll say is that, in the other chair, as a woman, as a woman diagnosed in the past with borderline personality disorder (the ‘crazy’ label even amongst crazies) it is not simple to say. That boundary between showing care as a client in a therapeutic relationship or throwing yourself over an invisible border into ‘Erotic Transference Central’ feels wafer thin.

Freud himself first wrote about erotic transference whilst working with a patient ‘Anna O’ while seeking treatment for patients with hysterical symptoms. These ‘hysterical women’ may be a thing of the past where modern psychotherapy is concerned but I’m convinced the legacy left by this type of widely known work is thriving. I think there is a host of women in therapy, making damn sure they never smile flirtatiously through nerves, touch inadvertently or flick our hair (hence a good 15 minutes of one session spent chewing on a piece of hair that had dropped onto my face!)

It can be tiring, on top of the rest of the baggage that brings you to therapy in the first place, to be overthinking the dynamic with your therapist. I certainly try not to, but I am sure that I’m not the only woman to, on some level, guard herself in case she acts hysterically or inappropriately.

Even when I chose to work with a male therapist, I spent a good amount of time soul searching about why I felt I needed to do this work with a man. I sense checked my history to see if I was looking for something other than therapeutic support. My past throws up warnings about how I form attachment relationships with men and where they can lead when they go wrong. I knew this was something ultimately I’d need to bring to therapy and questioned hard, if I was to share that with a male therapist, would they see flashing lights, caution alerts, and run for the hills before I could make a play for them?!

Of course, the outcome has been a revelation. I could share that stuff and no, my therapist didn’t leg it (I don’t think he considered it even!)

But what of love? The kind that Freud meant (before he himself leapt across the boundary). Well you can’t help but have a love for someone when they have shown you care, been patient as you explored your deepest fears, allowed you to act out and treat them badly but still been there to pick you up and put you together again after and stood resolutely by you as you work towards a basic desire to live. Yes, there is love. But it’s not a scary thing that could overspill and wreck the work we’ve done. It’s a respect and an increasing ease in his presence and a comfort when care for myself eludes me.

It won’t stop me overthinking heels or flats before I step back in his office, but ultimately, it’s a love that will sit inside me long after our work is done and, one I will treasure always.