The Unfortunate, Enduring Specter of the Silent Therapist
“I don’t want a therapist that just sits there and doesn’t say anything.”
Okay, I get it. I had that therapist, long before I became one myself. Long before I knew there were differences in approaches and orientations and training. I’ll call that therapist Fred. Fred was, in the Bay Area, fairly renowned. He was, for me and my (now ex-) partner, a couple therapist. He was also a classic psychoanalyst. Again, I didn’t know that at the time, nor would that have meant anything to me. What I did know is that he sat with us week after week for several years — before we married, during our marriage, and, briefly, after we split up — and the one thing he said that most stands out to me now is “Huh.”
I’m sure Fred offered more than that. But, honestly, I don’t recall very much. My (now very ex-) partner and I liked to talk in session, and as we did, Fred would invariably punctuate our diatribes with his trademark “huh.” It was so prevalent that my (now decidedly ex-) partner and I would adopt the “huh” in conversation with each other. We liked Fred. In hindsight, I think what we liked was that Fred didn’t challenge us, he didn’t guide us, he didn’t point out that the very significant and compromise-impossible issue that brought us to therapy never came up after our first session or two with him. When my partner and I finally called it quits, it was over this very same issue.
Huh.
One of my first psychology classes in grad school was CBT — cognitive behavioral therapy. What a revelation! I thought at the beginning. A therapy that tells you what to do! My ex and I sure could have used some of that!
But by the end of that semester, the shine had worn off CBT for me. It was — as it was presented in class — too rigid and too limiting. CBT addressed the “what” (dysfunctional thoughts, for example), but didn’t go anywhere near the “why” (why do you go to a dysfunctional thought, why do you go to that particular dysfunctional thought).
I was drawn to study psychology because I’d always been interested in the “why.” When I started to learn psychodynamic psychotherapy (an orientation with deep roots in psychoanalysis), I was drawn to its complexity, its profundity, and the breadth of factors it explores in any given client’s life to help uncover the “why” so that we can approach the “what” with deep understanding.
I have continued my study (and now practice) of psychodynamic psychotherapy, and if there is any “technique” within that orientation that I feel needs addressing, it is the use of silence. And if there is any stereotype that I hope to shatter, it is the “therapist that sits there and doesn’t say/do anything.”
First, it’s helpful to understand the difference between a directive therapist and an active therapist. CBT-type therapists tend to be directive. They assign homework and provide worksheets. They apply particular strategies for anger management, assertiveness, and the like. While it’s not exactly as I first described — “they tell you what to do!” — it’s not not that either.
I am not a directive therapist. I’m not going to tell you what to do. But I am an active therapist. I like to talk with my clients. But talking is one activity. When I’m not talking, I’m actively listening. And, sometimes, when both of us are silent, I am actively thinking.
This is where the specter of the silent therapist “who does nothing” haunts me. While I have been known to break out the occasional “huh,” I don’t believe it’s the response my clients will remember me for. I am not dogmatic about letting silences go on indefinitely, and I know and have felt the discomfort of silences but sometimes in therapy, silence is helpful both for myself and my client.
In silences, I am doing the opposite of “nothing.” As mentioned, I am actively thinking. Often, I am thinking about what my client has just said or done and trying to understand how that moment fits into the whole of what I know about them. Sometimes I am pondering the meaning or significance of whatever my client has said or done. Sometimes I’m thinking about what is happening in the room between myself and my client. Now and then I get a visual, or form some association to what’s been said, and wonder how the image or association might be relevant to the moment. Sometimes I think about the client’s past and how it might be linked to the present situation.
If I speak into the silence, it is because I think what I have to say might provide some insight, be helpful in some way. If what I might say doesn’t feel helpful, why would I say anything at all?
Most clients hate silences, especially when first embarking on their therapeutic journey. I get it. We’re conditioned to fill them. But often for clients, filling silences for the sake of filling silences forecloses thought and reflection. Often, the fluffy filling is a way to avoid some painful thought or association, some painful feeling. Maybe the painful feeling of the pressure to talk! I’ve had a couple of clients say that they talk into silences because they want to “get their money’s worth.” As if only the spoken word is valuable.
It can be difficult to understand the value of silence until you allow yourself to sit with it and see what emerges. When clients are able to do this, they often surprise themselves: by going a bit deeper into the last thing they said, with their own insights, with their own associations that provide more understanding of themselves. How valuable is that!
At the same time, I won’t torture my clients with unending silences. But rather than fluffy filling, I will ask my client, “What’s happening for you right now? In this silence?” This lets clients know that there is something happening, to tune into their inner world, and lets them know that I am curious and care about that inner world.
So, if you find yourself in a moment or two of silence with your therapist, know that they are still right there with you, and take advantage of the space that has been given to you to get to know yourself better. What you discover might even make you go, “Huh!”