Search | A Walk in the Park and a Small Case of Murder |
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by Andrew T. Austin The unfortunate lady say before me might be considered by many doctors and therapists as one of those “heart sink” patients. A “heart sink” patient is one who displays an apparent inability to connect consciously with anything that might improve their seemingly hopeless life. My heart actually did sink during the telephone conversation that followed her telephoning me to book an appointment. Her high expressions of anxiety about treatment, the large number of demands for reassurance and a shamefully pitiful tone of voice led me quickly to conclude that this lady was a prime candidate for a provocative approach. When she arrived at my office her eyes had that “mad dog” look of the desperate. Her eyeballs appeared to actually vibrate and her body posture was one of abject helplessness. And that incessantly pathetic tone of voice? Well, it actually started to affect me and not in a particularly good way. I did start to wonder what effect it would have on anyone’s neurology having to listen to that tonality from the inside all day and every day. It was clear to me that this was one lady who did not find living very easy. I made some tea and we went over and sat down in my office. “So Little Miss Anxiety, what can I do for you?” I asked with a smile. “I don’t know…I thought you could help me. Do you think you can help me?” There was that demand for reassurance again. Based on my previous telephone conversation with her, I suspected that I might need to cut through this game straight away. I didn’t want to spend the hour trying to win her approval by giving her the right kind of reassurance that she was seeking. So, did I think I could help her? “Well,” I said, “sometimes I get lucky and I can help the client. Other times, I just look at them and think, ‘oh God! If only they didn’t fill me with such dread and pity, then I could get them back week after week and have this damned mortgage paid off!’” She laughed at this and said, “So you think there is hope for me then?” “Hope?” I laugh, “Not hope, certainly not! What I have here is an opportunity to experiment though, that is sure! As one of my trainers said to me, ‘Andy’ he said, ‘When you find yourself that truly helpless and wretched case, know well that that is your chance to try out the stuff you’ve been too scared to try with any other client!’ – nothing to lose, see?” She laughed at this and visibly relaxed, “I can see why they told me to come and see you!” she told me. “Ah,” I reply, “They probably just know that I’m desperate for the clients.” Which elicited more laughter. “So,” I continued, “What’s the problem?” Her state immediately changed and her face and body posture demonstrated a person who felt a serious emotional pain. “If I tell you what I did, you’ll think I am such an awful person.” She told me as she struggled to control her weeping. “Oh no!” I exclaimed, “not another one!” Throwing my arms in the air and looking upwards as though to address the Lord, I say, “Lord, why do you send me these people…the child abusers, the killers, the sodomites, the bastard French…why Lord, why? What did I ever do to deserve this?” I suddenly shift state and look her straight in the eye, point my finger and say in my sternest and fiercest voice, “Look lady, if you are going to tell me that you keep small, underfed and tortured children locked in your cellar, I’m going straight to the police, do you understand me?” She changed state again and she laughed, “It is not that bad,” she said. “Oh here we go again,” I say again melodramatically as though to the Lord, “another guilty one trying to make her heinous crimes just sound ordinary!” I look at her again and ask, “Do you know the reason that most serial killers give for actually killing their victims?” She shook her head and looked at me quizzically. “Because after all that torture and torment, their victims just get plain annoying…” and I trail off looking to her expectantly for a response. “Can I tell you what happened?” She asked as though she was expecting that I wasn’t ever going to actually give her the opportunity to do so. “Go ahead…” I offer, “But please go easy on me. You know my nerves are shot to pieces by this line of work. It is no wonder I’m usually so heavily medicated.” And I slump back in my chair as though dejected and exhausted. Briefly her story was this. Her role in life is a rescuer. She has taken in homeless people, distant relatives, strays, cats and dogs. Despite her apparent weakness and vulnerability it appeared that she had great resolve in assisting other people who were down on their luck and seeing them through the hard times. As Frank might say, she is a “national resource”. But, one time it went wrong and it was her reaction to this event that was destroying her. She had acquired a rescue dog. When she received it the dog demonstrated all the signs of an animal that had been horribly abused over a protracted period of time. Two weeks later during a walk in the park, it ran out into the road and was killed by a car. “So, after just two weeks you got annoyed enough with it to let it be killed?” I proffered. Her face registered both shock and laughter. “I didn’t mean for that to happen…” she started to say. “Oh sure, you didn’t mean for it to happen…how many prisons the world over are full of both “innocent” people and those who are clearly guilty but are claiming, ‘I didn’t mean for it to happen…’? “It was just an unfortunate thing…it wasn’t…” she protested, but I interrupted her before she could finish. “…it wasn’t murder?” I suggested, completing her sentence for her. “Now look!” she said firmly but smiling. “It was an accident, the dog got excited and chased a squirrel into the road. I couldn’t have known…” She trailed off. Her state changed again and she looked down mournfully. I mirrored her posture and raised my eyebrows to indicate for her to say more. “It is just so sad that it only had two weeks of a good life before…” she trailed off again. “You killed it…?” “You really think it was my fault?” She asked. “I’m not sure yet,” I tell her, “but there is another possibility…” she looked up at me expectantly. “You have to think about the part that the dog played in all of this...maybe it was suicide?” She laughed again. An implication here was that the dog, having been abused by its previous owners was depressed and so committed suicide. “I mean,” I continue, “the poor pooch is sat in the pound relieved that the traumatic life it had before is over and then…oh, no…it gets you! Arrghhhh!” I say this with great animation. She laughed at this and with great emphasis said, “Now listen here, you, I am a good person! I was the best opportunity that poor animal had! It just got excited and chased a squirrel!” ”So,” I say lowering my voice and adjusting my posture to that of a “professional” psychotherapist, “what appears to be the problem?” The sudden change of direction acts as a virtual trance induction. Her eyes glaze over and she becomes very thoughtful for a moment. I’ve seen this reaction occur when Frank is working. Often the response is “I don’t know…” or, “I’m not sure any more…” Sometimes they just look concussed and bewildered. “You know,” she said slowly, “I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid, I’ve been such a door mat…” “There you go!” I say quickly, “Insight!” And on the session went for another 20 minutes in a similar vein with each step this previously emotional frail lady becoming increasingly animated and forceful. Each time she made a negative suggestion about herself it would be reframed to something either ludicrous, into some kind of resource or into something far, far worse than it could possibly be. It is worth noting that at no point did I give any form or reassurance or even attempt to “help” or advise this client in any way. The session lasted 40 minutes in total and at the 40-minute mark I cut it dead without any attempt to “round it off” or find conclusion. In true Farrelly style, I smile and ask, “So, did you have any reactions to me in this [session]?” which of course elicited great laughter. She did of course have many reactions – one of which was of course the realisation that she let “people walk all over” her and take advantage of her vulnerable nature. She highlighted her realisation that although she spent her life helping other people, those people rarely offered anything back, using the resources she offered then moving on in their lives when they no longer needed her. She realised that everyone else was moving on, except her. The next 40 minutes were spent discussing, with a fair degree of provocation, her motivation strategies and relationships with other people. What this session demonstrated so nicely was how the provocative therapy approach forced the client to think outside of here usual patterns. She had attended many dozen therapy sessions with a number of different therapists and all without success. What I suspect all the previous therapists had in common was that they offered help and advice and responded to this lady’s extreme prompting for reassurance, thus confirming the reality of her fears. In a single session lasting approximately 90 minutes from start to finish a former “heart sink” patient and regular attendee to her GP surgery gathered together enough resources to put some bigger life changes into place. Regular follow up via telephone over an 8-month period, with 2 quick and informal meetings demonstrated the changes continued to develop with a marked change in voice tonality, change in appearance and a quite noticeable playful and flirtatious manner. Clinical Hypnotherapist and Master Practitioner of NLP Chichester, West Sussex Tel: 07838 387 580 Email: This article is included in the excellent "The Rainbow Machine" which is a collection of stories by Andrew Austin See http://www.therainbowmachine.com and the book can also be purchased from http://www.realpeoplepress.com/rainbow-machine-tales-from-neurolinguists-journal-p-64.html?osCsid=189d4c8ef426bd7407dc6e765459985d |
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