Being different

posted on August 23, 2011 at 9:54 pm

Reflecting on ‘being different’, the sense of not fitting in, of what Sartre and other philosophers have called ‘the other’. I don’t know if it’s simply that this is the lens through which I look, but so many clients, supervisees and students over the years seem to have had feelings of ‘not belonging’. They might have called it by different names – feeling alien, an outsider, a second class citizen, a dinosaur – and the objective source of difference has varied hugely: ethnicity, height, weight, sexuality, age, adoption, religion (and others) – but there seem to be some common forms of reaction. While I haven’t experienced the levels of discrimination that I have heard of from others, I do have memories I can draw on.

I can remember, as a child of eight or nine, attending a Roman Catholic church service, and feeling bewildered, not understanding the language (Latin) or liturgy, not knowing when to sit or stand or when to respond with an ‘amen’. I was fearful of being shamed or humiliated, but also intrigued: what was it like to be familiar with this ritual? I was also aware of the beauty and richness of the service and surroundings, and how novel it was to me.

Other occasions of feeling like an outsider have been harder: attending conferences on specialist topics, when I am a generalist, I have sometimes slipped into feeling inadequate, as if what I had to say was less valuable. This has led me to either be silent, or pretend greater knowledge than I had. This echoes feelings of powerlessness that I have heard from others. These situations can also trigger a fear of rejection, which is a very disempowering experience in itself.

Having lived in many different places as a child, joining schools where everyone else knew each other, and their place in the pecking order, I had early experience of being an outsider, and learned several strategies for dealing with this. Sometimes I would make strenuous efforts to learn the norms of my new environment and mimic these in order to fit in. At other times I would hold on to my sense of being different, and convert it to being ‘special’ or superior. Occasionally, I would feel excluded, powerless, and that the others simply had no idea of who I was, or what I was trying to communicate. Often, my sense was of being an observer, rather than a participant.

Studying psychology, and then counselling, gave me some theoretical understanding of my experience: the basic human need for connection, belonging and acceptance was spelled out by Maslow. Social psychologists such as Tajfel demonstrated how our identity is hugely influenced by the groups with which we identify. Mead’s work on the self-concept showed how important others’ views of us are in the formation of our sense of self. Rogers’ theory explained how we deny or distort disapproved or different parts of our self in order to be accepted by our parents (‘be a good girl’).

Recently, I have been reading a lot of philosophy, and most philosophical ideas about ‘otherness’ emphasise that while we need to encounter difference to develop a sense of self, the encounter often becomes a struggle for dominance (Hegel’s master/slave dialectic).

These theories suggest what it is about ‘being different’ that makes it difficult:

  • if we do not trust the others, then we are likely to fear rejection
  • if the others have more power or authority than us they might diminish our sense of self

I am lucky: my parenting gave me good self-esteem, and my curiosity about others whose experiences are different from my own led me to learning and education, and eventually a career where I have been able to make use of my desire to understand people. What I have concluded is that difference is inevitable – not even identical twins are identical in all respects. What makes ‘being different’ a problem is actual or feared exclusion or domination, with the isolation and shame that these can provoke. While prejudice and discrimination should always be challenged, I believe that self-acceptance is key: there will always be aspects of me that others fear, disapprove of or dislike – but if I can accept myself, I don’t need to hide these aspects or pretend to be other than myself. And acceptance of all aspects of oneself is what I aim for with all those with whom I work.

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Seeing is believing

posted on April 6, 2011 at 11:21 pm

Interesting column by Libby Purves in Radio Times for 2-8 April 2011, regarding biopics. She points out that once we see something in a drama about figures from history we believe what we’ve seen, even if we ‘know’ it’s not historically accurate. This is not a new observation, but it’s one that’s worth reminding ourselves of. We can look at Shakespeare – writing in the time of the Tudors – whose presentation of Richard the third – the predecessor defeated by the first Tudor king – was an effective and lasting piece of propaganda.

I found myself wondering whether this is equally true for all of us – are those who are predominantly visual processors (rather than auditory or kinaesthetic) more prone to this? And how much is our view of reality shaped by our constant exposure to visual images – TV, film, advertising billboards? There is research showing that anorexics who look at lots of fashion magazines find it harder to alter their eating patterns than peers who are exposed to fewer images of airbrushed size zero ‘perfection’.

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Dorset Association of Counsellors and Psychotherapists

posted on March 31, 2011 at 12:00 pm

Susy is leading a workshop on Friday 13th May 2011 7-9 pm in Wimborne Minster for DACAP, with the title:

“Is happiness possible? (And if so, is it an appropriate goal for therapy?)”

The workshop is free for members, and only £5 for non-members.
While aimed primarily at counsellors and psychotherapists, the workshop would also be accessible to anyone who works in a helping or support role.

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Attention and concentration

posted on March 30, 2011 at 12:01 pm

I was working with a client yesterday to explore his difficulties with concentration. He already recognised that he was very easily distracted, in many situations, both work and personal. The thought crossed my mind ‘If he were under 12, he would probably be described as having ADHD’. (And the diagnosis can also be applied to adults.) The response of many doctors would be to prescribe Ritalin. I prefer to explore psychological ways of understanding and improving specific aspects of concentration.

What is ‘concentration’?
The ability to focus attention on a chosen area for a period of time.

It involves paying attention, and processing information effectively. It is well established that we have a limited amount of attention – we cannot listen to two conversations simultaneously, and if we are having a conversation while driving, we’ll probably stop talking as we come up to a busy roundabout.

Other factors affect our attention: extroverts generally are less good at giving sustained attention to something than introverts; our attention is reduced when we are tired; people with high levels of anxiety are often ‘hyper-vigilant’ (they are constantly scanning their surroundings for anything threatening) so they have less attention available to focus on the task in hand. We also don’t pay much attention to things that don’t interest us.

Not paying attention can also become a habit – I know I switch off if my sons start talking about computer games consoles. And there are times when it is appropriate and healthy to let our attention wander: if our hands are occupied doing a well-practised task, the mind can wander away to enjoyable castles in the air. It is useful, though, to be able to control the volume on our attention, so that we can have it at full strength when necessary.

We can develop our skill in paying attention: mindfulness techniques are one approach; doing Sudoku or a crossword against the clock is another. I found myself laying out objects to play Kim’s game.  It is a simple way to assess how good your attention and short-term memory are – and also to develop both.

Concentration also involves being able to focus thought – to process information. Thought is not necessarily in words: a painter staring at her latest work in progress is probably assessing depth of colour, strength of brushstroke, how one colour or shape affects those next to it. We all tend to have preferred ways of processing information: I am predominantly visual – I can read and ‘tune out’ a TV programme going on at the same time. My husband, who is more of an auditory processor, finds this impossible. Some people – including many who are good at sport – are mainly kinaesthetic by choice:  they learn something by doing it (‘muscle memory’). So what?

Well, if what we want to concentrate on is a conversation, and we are a mainly visual processor, it is helpful to keep our eyes focused on the person who is speaking (or close your eyes if on the phone). For those who prefer the auditory channel, one useful technique to prevent your attention from being grabbed by anything else is to listen with the intention of being able to summarise what has just been said. For the kinaesthetic, having something to occupy your muscles – such as doodling – can help to free up the rest of your attention to listen to the conversation.

It’s worth experimenting with all of these, regardless of preferred method of processing, to see which work best for you. And remember – as with any skill, developing concentration requires practice.

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