Like Looking in a Mirror

Sometimes, I treat people who have the same problems I have in my personal life. It's hard. Oh, it's really hard. If I'm really distraught about something and a patient calls seeking treatment with a similar life circumstance, I will sometimes turn them away and recommend another shrink. But I don't always screen so carefully on the phone, and often "I'd like to make an appointment," will simply get a time and date.

The feelings get really complicated here.

If I feel I've had a role in creating my circumstances, then I wonder as my patients seek my counsel, Who am I to be making any suggestions, much less giving advice? Why are you looking to me, I've screwed up the same situations. Oh, you say, Dr. Jeff said on KevinMD that healthy's Shouldn't Give Advice, but you know, some of us do, and even when we don't, our feelings are often relayed through the questions we ask or the comments we make or don't make, or perhaps by the expressions on our faces, even if we don't say "You should do X." I told a friend once that I feel uneasy, guilty even, in these situations, and he replied, "How do you think I feel?" Did I mention he does family work and was in the midst of a stressful divorce? And I have yet to ask a colleague who also does family work how he managed during the years his own children wouldn't speak to him. Oy, life can be tough, for shrinks just like everyone else.

So perhaps I listen to someone talking about his most personal feelings about a situation, and you know, if I've been there before, perhaps it's good that I can empathize. If I'm in the middle of it, sometimes I listen and the patient's words seem so unreasonable, so unjustified, and yet I recognize them as being exactly my own--it's like having my own anxieties bounced off a wall only to ricochet straight back into my face.

Do I tell the patient that I've been in the same place before? Generally, no. Therapy is about his problems, not mine, and I think in these situations my empathy is clear. I say things that are more poignant and resonant than I might in circumstances where I feel removed. And patients never ask if I've been in the exact same place. On some of the harder things-- things that have no precise quick and easy answer-- I've taken to saying, "Not only don't I know what will fix this, I don't know anyone else who does have the answer." This I can say because I've done my own searching.

I hope I'm reassuring and comforting to people who find themselves in the same places I dwell. Certainly, tripping over a few stones on the path makes one walk a little more gingerly and judge a little less harshly those who walk more slowly. Mostly, though, I worry that I'm a little bit of a fraud just for being in the room.