There are a lot of theories in family therapy, not all of which are even really theories, properly understood: general systems theory, family of origin theory, psychodynamic theory, structural family therapy theory, Milan systems theory, contextual therapy, etc. Also, there are still some clinicians being minted that will tell you with a straight face that they are, say, “Bowenian therapists.” I don’t mean to be a jerk, but if anyone tells you that they have one pure theory as a counselor, you can tell them I said they are probably not telling the truth.

 

The truth is that if you go through the new-fangled Master’s programs focused on Applied Psychology, which is academic speak for “therapy programs,” you will end up with the delightful ability to pull from various different theories/ways of understanding individuals and families. And yet words like “eclectic” are looked down upon when it comes time to “describe your orientation” (a command that always makes me want to say “pansexual,” not because pansexuality is funny per se, but because it would really startle). People tend to say “I selectively pull from various orientations” or something like that. I probably have said that.

 

But the longer I work in therapy (still the blink of an eye, of course, compared to most), the more I feel like psychoeducation is my theory. Psychoeducation, if we translate it into normal English, basically means sharing what you understand about a theory or an analysis with your clients. Radical, by some people’s estimation, actually, and in some circles identified as a new-age theory in itself. But all it means is sharing knowledge. Handing it over instead of clutching it to your chest. Inviting your clients in to help you look through this particular lens instead of peering at them through it from across the room.

 

Maybe I am lucky, but it seems to me that psychoeducation always works to good effect; my clients are always smart enough and open enough to understand. And I always seem to get more purchase on the issue at hand with two brains working in tandem despite the “Mastery” proclaimed on my degree. I think that championing the transparency of psychoeducation broadly might just be something I can get fired up about.

I’ve been noticeably silent on my private practice blog–if anyone were paying attention.  But that’s the point, no one seems to be.  Which is what inspires this post.  I have spent more time pondering if I should spend anymore time marketing my practice on social media/the Internet.  I have heard equally that it’s the only way to build a practice and, alternatively, that technology isn’t ever going to account for more than 5% of your clients.  While I still have no idea which position is more accurate, I am realizing (sometimes I take the long way around the barn) that there is a serious limit to what I am willing to do online.

My guess is that there are people who are so adept at social media that their private practice does indeed depend upon it.  And I know for sure that there are clinicians out there that don’t even have a website and have no need for one.

What know for sure is that people shouldn’t be choosing counselors/therapists based on web impressions.  And yet a lot of people do.  But there is simply no possible way of replacing face to face engagement.  I think people should treat therapists, for lack of a less crude term, like dates–decide whether or not to meet in person through the web, but don’t decide to get in bed that way.  Or in the chair, on the couch.  Meet your prospective mental health practitioner–and if a counselor doesn’t want to give you a free consultation for at least 15 minutes, consider whether that rigidity speaks for itself.

That’s my 2 cents.

I’m done with resolutions because there is no end to the work of self-improvement, very little is ever resolved. And while optimism may be foolish, there is always room for hope. So I wish this for myself this year: for the presence of mind to shut up. For the presence of mind to smile. For the presence of mind to turn on music, and to turn it off. For the presence of mind to say yes to everything—especially to not cluttering my mind.

I’m thrilled and also humbled to open my business in the historic Smith Tower in Pioneer Square, right in the heart of original Seattle.  Because of the wild trajectory that landed me here–via California, North Carolina and Spain, via creative writing and literature–it is appropriate, perhaps, that I have found myself starting out again in such a place.