As counselors in training, part of our development is identifying a counseling theory within which to approach our work with clients. Some of the concepts within these theories have made their way into popular culture and have become somewhat common to hear in conversations: having a Freudian slip, describing someone as egocentric, talking about being desensitized to something, wondering about attachment bonds to caregivers, talking through our trauma responses, to name only a few. It’s wonderful, I think, to see some of these psychological concepts resonate so deeply with people that their language moves from the realm of jargon to becoming widely known.
From my very first class which covered the span of theories within the field, I felt drawn toward the existential lens. Drawing its roots from philosophy and theology, existentialism is concerned with the large questions of life: Who are we? Why are we here? Does my one, small life mean anything? Do I have the freedom to make my own choices? If I do, what is within my realm of responsibility, and what is not? What is death like? How do I manage my fear of it? Is there something bigger than me, something making things happen or guiding time as it moves forward, or not?
To me, this is the stuff of living. These questions have a universal nature: no matter which culture we originate from, what language we speak, or what hardships we have endured these questions will manifest in some way or another. This theory thinks about anxiety as the underlying current of uncertainty which stems from our inability to fully answer these questions: they are so big they really are unanswerable. Or, at the least, answered with lingering uncertainty. And it is hard to sit in the unknown, to feel stuck in purposelessness or isolation and be left wondering.
In our culture of immediate answers available through Google, and even dialogue partners as we begin utilizing AI, we are used to having our questions answered. If I need to know the name of the guy who played an extra in Parks and Recreation Season 4 Episode 2, I can find the answer! This ability to know things so quickly gives me a sense of safety and security, an ability to close the loop of unknowing, satisfying my curiosity. But these questions, the questions of existence, are not so easily answered. Cultures and religions have tried since the beginning of humanity’s existence to provide answers. These answers have helped millions of people find meaning and purpose, connecting us to something beyond ourselves which does help us lessen our existential dread. These answers have also caused millions to feel trapped and constrained, perhaps even hoodwinked, boxed in by limitations and boundaries which they did not ask for and feel they must cast off, seeking a different kind of connection to that which is beyond ourselves.
In the counseling space, I see my role as a facilitator in the experience of these questions: how are the clients I work with answering these questions? Which questions are they avoiding, whether knowingly or unknowingly? Which ones cause them deep pain and anguish? Which ones are front and center? Do they feel they are finding answers which satisfy some measure of the existential angst these elicit within us all? Or, do they feel purposeless and isolated, adrift in the sea of the unknown? How can I facilitate the exploration of these questions in a way that encourages deeper engagement but doesn’t leave someone feeling drained by the excavation?
I believe therapy to be an ideal place in which to explore these questions on their deeper levels. As a therapist, I aim to create a safe and secure space in which the clients I work with can bring those anxieties to light, to have someone present as they wrestle with the answers or non-answers they have for them. I am new to this work, but I have seen and personally experienced the transforming encounter of having someone witness the pain and anxiety another carries, not shying away from the depth of it and not seeking to close it off with quick fixes. These depths require acknowledgment, deep listening, empathic understanding, and a commitment to moving slowly. And, admittedly, this isn’t the right posture for dealing with the details of an argument with a partner or answering the question of whether to take a promotion. But it is the right posture for attending to the fears behind the argument, or the sense of purpose the promotion may or may not bring. They call both clinician and client to engage purposefully in meeting the needs which lay beneath the surface.
I’m obviously not very enticed by brief therapy, though it has its own place and purpose. And different clients need different things. My time at CAC has been one of learning to understand when a client does need to attend to the argument’s details or make a decision in their career, while balancing those immediate needs with what lay under the surface. And it has been a privilege to earn the right to walk alongside clients as they engage in vulnerability and trust with me, allowing me to hold the bigger questions with them.
