Origin Story

During my college years during the 1970’s, I was diligently studying Western philosophy and Eastern religions. At the same time, I was attracted to the new age and self-help movements, and the stars of these movements such as Ram Das, Fritz Perls, Ayn Rand, Nathanial Brandon, and Werner Erhardt. I imagined myself to be on a path to someday join their ranks. I could see their narcissism and brokenness, but I then saw it as part of the recipe to their unusual abilities.

I would occasionally feel the power and gratification of the guru role with friends or colleagues in response to the situations and challenges they might present to me. As much as I was taken by this path, I was also suspicious of my own brokenness and narcissistic defenses. Back in the dimmer corners of my mind, I sensed that this self was dishonest and potentially dangerous, but these inner voices were faint in contrast to the allure of the performance art involved in holding court and being the center of attention.

After my degree in philosophy, I went on to do a Master’s degree in theology and psychology as the next step on a path I was making up as I went along. It was in the spring semester of 1977, in a class on pastoral counseling, that I discovered I would be working for a couple of weeks with Carl Rogers. I had certainly heard of Carl Rogers. He had been a prominent figure in psychotherapy during the 1950’s and 1960’s, but had been overshadowed by the louder, more entertaining voices of the 60’s and 70’s. Like disco, Rogers had fallen out of vogue, and his stance toward therapy had become the cliché of “How do you feel about that?” in movies and on television. But as a 20-something, I didn’t yet have the perspective to understand trends and fads – I had only experienced my first cultural wave.

This is why when Rogers walked into class that first day, I was not positively predisposed. I already had heard most of what he was saying, and I became impatient for the end of class. When I finally noticed he had the rest of the audience in rapt attention, I decided to lean in and try to appreciate what he was saying. As I shifted to a state of mind of openness and acceptance, those dim voices in the corner of my mind began getting louder and more articulate: Listen and pay attention! I may have also heard them say, “get over yourself”

Here was someone who was neither dangerous or dishonest, he wasn’t trying to sell me anything or recruit me as a disciple. Over the days to follow, his presence made me feel ashamed of how much my I was driven by ego. I left his classed disoriented and a bit shaken up, but determined to learn from him what I could from him. His very being seemed an affront to my prior heroes and everything I aspired to, yet my heart told me he had something I needed. 

The work with Rogers and his colleagues consisted of doing sessions with colleagues, unfiltered feedback about their reactions to me as a therapist and person, transcribing sessions, analyzing the content and flow of each session, group supervision, and one-on-one supervision with an array of consultants. My work and their feedback from the long and intensive work during the early weeks of that semester led me to the conclusion that I was an absolutely terrible therapist. 

Of course, I was crushed and my body was hot with shame. My vaguely imagined mission had dissolved and disappeared out from beneath me. I walked around campus in a daze as I processed the feedback that I hated and knew was true. I considered everything from dropping out of school, to changing my major, to jumping off a building to avoid the pain I was soakingin.

Between these bouts of confusion and self-pity, I struggled to process the feedback; I found it difficult to listen to my clients because I knew things they needed to know; I had difficulty tolerating silence because it made me uncomfortable and embarrassed so I would fill silences with mini-lectures and funny anecdotes; and I became impatient with my clients’ fears and concerns and would try to cajole them into taking actions as soon as possible. 

I realized I was doing therapy – with a bludgeon. It was as an expression of my shame and disappointment with myself, as my need for rescue. There was nothing client-centered, compassionate, or accepting about it – it was all about my needs, my perspectives, and my being seen as a brilliant therapist with the right answers. 

In a moment of insight, all the pieces started falling into place: my path, my philosophy, and my methods had been driven by the pain of my childhood and the defenses I had developed to protect me from my own emotional pain. This is a part of what those faint voices had been trying to tell me. If I were going to be a decent therapist, I had to learn that it wasn’t about me. I had to learn enough about myself to get out of the way. 

I had to have enough respect for others to not tell them what to think and do, but to join them in a shared process of learning and growth. Therapy is not something we do TO our clients, it something we engage in WITH our clients. Therefore, who we are as individuals – conscious and unconscious – are part of our treatment. All I could feel now about Dr. Rogers was a sense of affection and gratitude. 

We all have an origin story. We all have childhood struggles, pain, and loss. We all develop defenses against them and, to a greater or lesser degree, we bring our histories – both conscious and unconscious - into the consulting room. 

The Mission

Since my first semester as a professor of psychotherapy in 1986, I have been using these same teaching strategy and methods of Roger’s I benefitted from long ago. Over the years I’ve added ideas from psychodynamic therapy, neuroscience, evolution, and attachment, but the core principles remain. The fulcrum of the psychotherapeutic process is the nature and quality of the therapeutic relationship combined with the knowledge you may add that helps your client see themselves more clearly. The person of the therapist is central to the success of what we do.

Decades later, I’ve supervised many therapists from all over the world who have degrees, licenses, and practices yet have very little understanding or insight into themselves or the practice of psychotherapy. When clinicians approach me for supervision, I ask them about their training. They usually say “I’ve been certified in CBT, DBT, ACT (Acceptance and Commitment Therapy), EMDR, IFS (Internal Family Systems), EMFT, and CPP (Core Process Therapy).” While they have been taught to do therapy, they have never been trained how to be a therapist. They’ve been told that their own therapy is important but not why or how to apply it to their work. Their personal therapy was never integrated into their training in any coherent or meaningful way.

Throughout my career, I’ve been striving to integrate psychotherapy with the sciences and providing clinicians with more tools and things to consider in their work. What I failed to realize was that while I was doing my thing, the core training I had received was slowly being phased out. Clinicians were being given an increasing number of tools, but not the toolbox to put them in. Put another way, they were being told what to do but not how to experience, connect, and create and be in the relationship. It’s not about what therapy you do, its about how you do the therapy.

Training clinicians go from one training to the next, collecting certificates and attaching an ever-growing list of letters to their name. But the feelings of being a fraud and imposter remain. I don’t blame these students; I think it is their teachers who have failed them and the system that, somewhere along the line, turned its focus from training to profit. Selling degrees and certificates is profitable, providing an apprentice model for personalized therapeutic training is not. The schools won’t pay for it and your clinical placements can’t afford it. 

While professors and teachers usually don’t mention it, the truth is that therapists are forged within sustained and sustaining apprentice relationships and not through Instagram posts, TikTok videos, or HBO specials that include interviews with therapists. If you want to become an excellent therapist, you have to find an excellent therapist to work with. Then, find another one and train with them. Eventually, you will discover you know what you are doing and you will be relieved from feeling like a fraud.