Tag Archives: Group Work

Group Work

Counseling outside the box

By Bethany Bray February 25, 2021

Clients bring an unending range of presenting issues, personalities, life histories and challenges into counseling. Fortunately, counselors also have an infinite supply of tools for forging therapeutic bonds, meeting clients’ needs and helping clients tell their stories.

Counselors need only flex their creative muscles to find approaches that can bolster trust with clients and speak to each person’s unique life experiences and worldview. Exploring a client’s interest in skydiving as a metaphor for self-awareness and trust? Discussing a favorite dish or recipe as a prompt to get a client talking about family-of-origin issues? Assigning a client to play video games online with peers as a first step toward addressing social anxiety? The sky’s the limit.

Counseling Today contacted several counselors who are using interesting, fresh or different approaches to help their clients and students. We hope that you will be inspired by their ideas and possibly use them as a jumping-off point to think outside the box in your own work.

Sparking connection with photos

As the adage goes, a picture is worth a thousand words.

American Counseling Association members Brandee Appling and Malti Tuttle believe the truth of this saying holds up even in counseling settings, especially in the age of smartphones, when photography is ubiquitous. Why not leverage that by asking clients to bring photos and images into sessions, they reasoned. Prompts such as “bring in an image that represents you feeling happy” or “bring in an image that represents your family” can be eye-opening for clients and clinicians alike, Appling and Tuttle say.

The duo, former school counselors who met while working as co-coordinators of the school counseling program at Auburn University, have found that “phototherapy” can encourage dialogue and boost empathy and connection in counseling. This can be especially true in group settings, with child and adolescent clients, and with individuals who struggle with speech or whose primary language is not the same as the counselor’s.

Photos and images introduce “another mode of communication” in counseling, says Tuttle, a licensed professional counselor (LPC) who is an assistant professor and school counseling program coordinator at Auburn.

“Photographs can bring insights into someone’s life that we might miss when talking — things that the client can’t verbally express or doesn’t think to,” adds Appling, an LPC and approved clinical supervisor who is now an assistant professor in the Department of Counseling and Human Development Services at the University of Georgia. “It helps to break down walls [in session] and makes it easier for the client to talk about something that’s concrete rather than [topics] that are in the air, so to speak.”

When Tuttle and Appling have used this approach in school settings, students have often been able to display photos on their cellphones. If students don’t have access to a cellphone, they may be able to check out digital cameras from the school, or the exercise can be widened to include printed images such as postcards or magazine clippings, the counselors say.

The counselor’s role is to prompt conversation by asking questions about the client’s image and then allowing the client to reflect and speak. The counselor should never try to interpret the image or impose their feelings about it, Appling stresses.

“This is not to be used to diagnose [clients]. This is not meant to be a stand-alone tool but part of a range of counseling tools,” Appling notes. “It’s one thing that we would use, but it’s not the only thing we would use. It should be part of the therapeutic process, one tool to use in an interrelated system.”

In group settings, an assignment to bring in an image that “represents you” can help participants get to know one another, build connection and create a sense of belonging, Tuttle says. Asking group members to explain why they chose their image can prompt meaning-making, empathy and recognition of others’ viewpoints and perspectives. It can also provide the group leader a glimpse into each group member’s personality and emotions.

The exercise “builds a sense of universality and connection with one another, [prompting] conversations that might not happen organically,” Tuttle adds.

She suggests spurring dialogue in sessions (whether individual or group) by asking open-ended questions such as:

  • Why did you choose to bring this particular photo?
  • What meaning does it hold for you?
  • What would you title this photo, and why?

Appling has used this approach with a group she ran for students who were going through family transitions (e.g., divorce, a death in the family, living in foster care). When asked to share an image that represented the changes they were going through, one student brought in a photo they had taken of a unique seashell.

The seashell “was a representation, for them, of where they had been,” Appling recalls. “It looked very different than any other seashell that I had ever seen, and I initially didn’t recognize the image as a seashell. We talked about how water had changed it and eroded it. The seashell represented [the student] but also the growth and change they were experiencing.”

This intervention can also be flipped, with the counselor bringing in a photo for clients and students to discuss. When presenting on this intervention at conferences and trainings, Appling and Tuttle use an image of an aging set of concrete steps with vegetation growing through the cracks. They ask participants:

  • What do you think this image means?
  • What emotions does it elicit?
  • What does this photo remind you of in your own life?

Despite being shown the same image, participants typically share a wide range of thoughts, reactions and associations regarding the picture, Tuttle and Appling say. Some people see resiliency and growth in the vegetation, whereas others see decay and despair in the cracked steps.

“It’s really interesting to be able to see the perspective of each participant,” Appling says. “It’s a lesson that we all see things very, very differently and that it depends on the things we have been through, our different lenses. It’s a lesson that we all bring different experiences and viewpoints.”

 

Walking (and running) the walk

Counselors can use a seemingly unlimited number of running-related metaphors to encourage clients: It’s a marathon, not a sprint. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. Focus on the mile, not the marathon. You have to learn to walk before you can run.

But for Natae Feenstra, an LPC with a private practice in Smyrna, Tennessee, this approach goes beyond the metaphorical. An experienced runner who has completed multiple marathons, she sometimes conducts outdoor counseling sessions with clients as they run and talk, side by side. As a counselor who specializes in “running therapy,” Feenstra offers running sessions for clients who are comfortable with and interested in donning their sneakers and hitting the trail with her.

“For the client, it’s first and foremost a counseling session,” says Feenstra, who is working on a dissertation on running as a therapeutic treatment for trauma as part of a doctorate in counselor education and supervision through the University of the Cumberlands in Kentucky. “A goal to get to a certain number of miles is never part of a client’s treatment plan. The goal is improvement of mental health, and running is a tool for that.”

Counselors have long known the benefits that movement and exercise can have on mental health, including stimulating the release of endorphins, dopamine and other brain chemicals. Engaging in movement and exercise also offers opportunities for processing thoughts and mindfully focusing on one’s breath and stride.

“Natural bilateral stimulation — that’s all that running is. Rhythmic movement of large muscle groups, and we know that can bring amazing benefits to our brain,” explains Feenstra, a former school counselor who recently transitioned into private practice. Running therapy also offers the built-in ecotherapy component of enjoying sunlight, fresh air and views of nature as she and the client run and talk, she adds.

Feenstra’s approach is individualized. If a prospective client requests running sessions, Feenstra agrees only after having at least one consultation to get to know the client and their presenting concerns and determining whether the approach would be a good fit. She also offers walking and walk/run sessions, as well as traditional, stationary counseling sessions.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, Feenstra is conducting all of her traditional counseling sessions via telebehavioral health. She continues to offer in-person running therapy for clients who are comfortable doing that, while following health guidelines concerning physical distancing as much as possible.

Above all, she suggests running only if the client is comfortable with it. She points out that clients don’t need to be experienced runners to engage in this approach. She modifies each session to the client’s ability and comfort level. “It’s never about the pace or distance of the run. It’s about the movement, going alongside the therapeutic conversation,” says Feenstra, a member of ACA.

Feenstra has seen significant improvement in clients presenting with anxiety and depression who engage in running. Her clients have also self-reported boosts to their self-esteem, self-efficacy and overall wellness.

In addition to the mental health benefits that running provides on it own, these mobile sessions can help strengthen the counselor-client bond and support clients who might otherwise struggle to open up in a more traditional therapy setting, says Feenstra, who is also a certified running coach with the Road Runners Club of America. “Some people are intimidated by eye contact or other aspects of face-to-face sessions, or being in an office with a power differential. For some people, [running during counseling] can help them speak more freely,” Feenstra says.

This was recently the case for an adult male client on Feenstra’s caseload who presented with severe depression and anxiety. During the COVID-19 pandemic, his condition had worsened to the point that he was no longer leaving home.

When Feenstra and the client began meeting, counseling sessions were the only time the man ventured out. They eventually transitioned to mobile sessions, beginning with a walk/run mix to fit the man’s comfort level. Within a few sessions, his anxiety and depression had lessened so that he was leaving his house more frequently and beginning to reengage in hobbies and activities that he had enjoyed previously.

“The platform of running therapy was what prompted him to leave the comfort zone of his house. A telehealth platform would not have made him leave his house, and he was not interested in pursuing [therapy in] an office environment,” Feenstra says. “In this case, the running therapy was what helped him pursue counseling services. I think it was the running piece that was intriguing [to him], and it was so helpful to get him outside to conquer his anxiety.”

Running therapy “is not a miracle treatment, of course, but there are cases where it can make a difference, just like any therapy,” she adds. Running therapy, pioneered by American psychiatrist Thaddeus Kostrubala, has been around since the 1970s, she notes.

For running sessions, Feenstra meets the client in a park, on a trail or in another public place that she is familiar with or has checked out ahead of time. She begins by warming up with the client and chatting as they stretch. After completing a run or walk, they finish by cooling down and reflecting on the session together.

Feenstra acknowledges the potential lack of confidentiality when holding counseling sessions in a public place. She addresses this with her clients ahead of time, both with detailed language in her informed consent forms and verbally, explaining that they can pause their conversation whenever another person is within earshot.

“I let the client dictate,” she says. “I let them know that [they] can choose to lower their voice, stop talking or continue talking if they are comfortable.”

While many counselors may not be runners themselves, they could have clients who enjoy running. Practitioners don’t have to offer running therapy to leverage running’s benefits for their clients, Feenstra points out. She sometimes incorporates running by assigning clients to run outside of session (again, only if they are interested and able) and then uses that to prompt counseling work in their next session together. Running provides an opportunity to relieve stress, tap into the subconscious and process thoughts away from the distractions of life, Feenstra explains.

Clients may find it helpful to keep a journal to record their thoughts, questions and discoveries made while running. This can be used as a self-development tool or as something the client brings into sessions, Feenstra notes.

“Since the run time is often prime time for thinking, clients and counselors can discuss [in sessions afterward] how the run went and what their thought process was like on the run,” Feenstra says. “Also, since running has an innate mindfulness component, this [aspect] can be used as a counseling tool. The counselor might give the client a thought to ponder or a mindfulness activity to meditate on during their run time.”

 

Movies and moral development

One of Justina Wong’s clients had served a long military career as a sniper with a special forces unit. His experiences in service, including multiple deployments overseas, had left him with posttraumatic stress disorder and a relative inability to show or express his emotions. When he did, it often manifested as anger. His relationship with his wife and family was becoming increasingly strained, and one of his children was beginning to fear him.

In counseling, what clicked for this client was Wong’s suggestion that he watch two movies that, on the surface, were geared toward children: Charlotte’s Web and Inside Out. Wong’s client was able to see himself — and many of the emotions he was having trouble identifying and expressing — in the moral arc these movie characters experienced.

“The response that he had was very powerful,” says Wong, who completed an internship at a nonprofit that serves military veterans and their families as part of her master’s in counseling program at the Chicago School of Professional Psychology. As they processed the movies together in session, “We talked about healthy coping skills and unhealthy coping skills. He began to open up more about what he saw and experienced in the military. He had a very hard time differentiating [between] feeling angry and feeling sad, which is common among this population. Feeling angry is accepted, but feeling sad is seen as [a] weakness or being undependable.”

Cinematherapy, or using movie storylines, characters and themes as a therapeutic tool, can be particularly helpful with child or adolescent clients and those who struggle with depression, trauma, loss or social anxiety, Wong says. It’s also useful for individuals who might not respond well to more traditional counseling interventions and those who have trouble opening up to a counselor, she adds.

Clients can observe and learn from movie characters’ struggles, growth and perseverance in the face of challenges throughout their story arcs, explains Wong, a member of ACA. Clients “can feel like they’re not alone because someone else [a movie character] is going through a similar thing. They can see a character’s unhealthy behavior, coping skills and what they did or didn’t do to manage. It can help clients communicate and voice their emotions and understand what their values are.”

A counselor can either assign a client to watch a particular movie (that the practitioner has vetted) outside of session, or the counselor and client can watch film clips together in session. Either way, the important part of the intervention involves the therapeutic discussion afterward, Wong says.

Wong, a recent graduate of the Chicago School, prompts dialogue with open-ended questions. For Inside Out, these include:

  • Which emotions do you consider to be positive, and which do you consider to be negative?
  • Tell me about a time when you suppressed a particular emotion and, as in the movie, your “island” started falling apart.
  • What islands do you have in your life?
  • What role do joy, sadness, anger, fear and disgust have in your life?
  • Describe a time you felt embarrassment, shame or guilt regarding something from your childhood.

Wong stresses that cinematherapy must be individualized when used in counseling. Practitioners should carefully consider whether the approach is a good fit for each specific client and appropriate for their presenting concerns and therapeutic goals. She uses only movies that she is very familiar with and has prescreened. Her list includes About Time (2013), Mulan (1998 animated version), Yes Man (2008), The Lion King (1994 animated version), Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004), Toy Story 3 (2010) and others.

“You really want to do your due diligence and make sure you’re using this intervention to the benefit of the client,” says Wong, a certified trauma professional. “If you don’t, it [watching movies] just becomes a recreational activity.”

The therapy goals of Wong’s veteran client included mending his relationship with his family and being able to have conversations without becoming triggered and angry. As a grown man and hardened military veteran, he initially bristled at the idea of watching children’s movies. But when he began to understand how they could help him strengthen his family relationships, he agreed. He watched Inside Out with his entire family and discussed Wong’s therapeutic questions afterward with his wife.

When Wong suggested he watch Charlotte’s Web, she warned him about the movie’s sad ending because he had never seen it before. Even so, Wong recalls, he was very upset in the following counseling session. As they began discussing the movie, the client realized that he identified with Wilbur’s feelings of isolation and loneliness. The pig’s friendship with the spider, Charlotte, reflected the camaraderie he felt and the bonds he had formed with the soldiers in his unit, some of whom had not made it home alive.

“He put two and two together and understood that when Charlotte dies, she couldn’t return home with Wilbur, and he [the pig] was angry, sad and in despair. [The client] had served in special forces and had lost many friends and was trying to bury and push away his troubles. … After processing it [in therapy], he understood why I chose that movie for him to watch,” Wong says. “The lightbulb turned on for him when Charlotte and Wilbur have a conversation in the movie and she tells the pig that she can’t return home with him.”

Wong talked these issues through with the client, supporting him as he processed, during which he began to show emotion and cry — a major breakthrough for someone who had appeared emotionless and “very by the book” at intake, according to Wong.

The movie discussion spurred the client to open up to Wong. He disclosed that during one of his deployments, several soldiers he was in charge of had died as they worked to secure and occupy an area. The area was eventually retaken by insurgents, and the client wrestled with feeling that his comrades had “died for no reason,” Wong says. He struggled with moral conflict and felt frustrated and betrayed by his commanding officers and the government. “It was powerful progress. He was able to talk about that, which he had never [done] before,” she says.

When used intentionally, cinematherapy can be a powerful tool, Wong notes. She was inspired to explore the approach after hearing Samuel T. Gladding, a past president of ACA and a professor of counseling at Wake Forest University, present on a range of creative interventions, including cinematherapy, at the International Association of Marriage and Family Counselors conference in January 2020. “It’s up to the counselor to be as creative — or not — as they want to be,” Wong says. “I never thought of myself as a creative counselor, but when I heard Dr. Gladding’s presentation … I guess I’m more creative than I thought I was.”

 

Once upon a time

As a doctoral candidate at North Dakota State University, Robert O. Lester recently taught a class on group counseling to first-year, master’s-level counseling students. Most students, Lester notes, came into the class with an innate understanding of empathy, but as the class neared its end, he looked to delve deeper, teaching empathy in an applied manner.

He turned to fairy tales. Lester asked students to write a tale that illustrated some of the challenges they had encountered and the personal growth they had experienced over the span of the class. The assignment had just two requirements: Begin the story with “Once upon a time …” and don’t make fun of any tale shared in class.

The exercise succeeded in opening students’ eyes to a greater understanding of empathy while spurring the growth of their professional identities. It also equipped them with a creative intervention that can be used with clients in counseling sessions. Going through the “imaginative labor” of observing one’s self in unfamiliar places or scenes expands our concept of what is possible, Lester explains.

“Many students began with ‘I don’t have a story to tell,’” says Lester, a school-based counselor and ACA member. “You don’t need to have gone through some great suffering; you just need to be up close to your own desire and belief. It’s the distance of suffering that empathy can’t cross. It was an assignment to bridge the distance between ourselves and others by keeping the desire and suspending the disbelief. It’s about a willingness to let other worlds be possible. This is the initial move of empathy.”

Weaving one’s experiences into a fairy tale can be a helpful exercise for counseling students and clients alike because the stories are compact and give the writer the satisfaction of identifying a coherent story arc and conclusion, even if it’s not a happy one, Lester says.

Writing fairy tales “is expressive, playful and may surprise you. It can loosen the tongue for serious talk. Letting people become a little more enchanted and surprised with themselves would have a lot of possibilities [in counseling]. Then, it would be on the counselor to facilitate a good discussion afterward,” says Lester, who is now living in California and working as a counselor at an alternative-education high school while he completes his doctoral dissertation. “One of my favorite things about this [intervention] is when we surprise ourselves. … It can certainly break some of the narrative ruts we can get into.”

In counseling sessions, prompting clients to express themselves through fairy tales could be a good fit for “any situation where you want someone to begin trying on differences,” Lester says. “Organizing our experiences into an imaginative story — a story where there’s room for enchantment, and the marriage of emotion and imagination — [can be beneficial] for clients who operate with a lot of constraint in their life, either self-imposed or imposed by culture or external forces, especially if they’re having trouble imagining themselves otherwise.”

Fairy tales offer students and clients a chance to cast themselves in new roles, organize their experiences into a sequence, and reflect on the challenges they’ve overcome and how they’ve grown from start to finish, Lester explains. In turn, they gain an appreciation for their belief of what they’re up against and their desire for how they go on.

This benefit was magnified when Lester invited his counseling students to share and discuss their fairy tales in class. This enabled them to see how different each of their journeys were.

“At the deepest level, I was hoping the fairy tale project would be a hermeneutical project [and] part of their professional identity development — marrying your own worldview into the profession [and] taking the feelings of others seriously and compassionately, especially those who don’t experience the world as we do,” Lester says. “They are just beginning in counseling and have to learn to honor others’ worldviews. This fairy tale [assignment] was a compact way to help them begin by rendering their own experiences as unusual and in need of close reading.”

One of Lester’s students wrote an impactful fairytale about a protagonist named Mia. She lived in an idyllic village where everyone knew one another and worked according to their talents — except for Mia, who spent much of her time alone, reading. Although she liked her fellow townspeople, Mia felt something was missing in her own life, Lester says. She harbored an intense curiosity and sense of imagination that many of her neighbors did not share.

Her story took a turn when some creatures from the outlying forest visited her and asked for her help. An ancient well where they lived, deep in the forest, had dried up. The well was the source of the creatures’ magical powers.

Kindhearted Mia knew she had to help and journeyed into the forest, where she found the well in shambles. Her heart broke for the forest creatures, and at a loss for what to do, Mia began to cry. As her tears flowed, they filled and restored the well. Mia’s compassion had saved the day. Not only had she revived the creatures’ source of magic on her quest, she had also discovered her own sense of purpose.

In class discussions afterward, the student who wrote Mia’s tale talked about feeling alienated in the small town where she grew up. Everyone in town seemed to know how they fit into the fabric of the community, but this student was never able to find her niche, Lester says.

Her fairy tale was a beautiful description of this concept. “She [Mia] is looking for a world where her tears have a place and can do something on behalf of others,” Lester explains. This paralleled the student’s own struggle to find her way and cultivate her professional identity.

“We all go through growing up and forming identity, but her fairy tale elevated the experience,” Lester says. “Suddenly, Mia’s tears could do work and were life sustaining. I find that incredibly moving — that language of having permission to cry, because you don’t know what wells your tears might replenish. To me, that’s a whole other order of coming to apply empathy. [Learning empathy] begins with ourselves and becoming empathic with some of the pain and beauty of growing up. … There’s something poetic in that everydayness.”

 

Culinary therapy

Each of the elements in chef Samin Nosrat’s 2017 cookbook, Salt, Fat, Acid, Heat, can be used as therapeutic metaphors in counseling work with clients, suggests Michael Kocet, a professor and chair of the Counselor Education Department at the Chicago School of Professional Psychology.

If a dish doesn’t have enough salt, it can be bland, but if the cook oversalts the dish, it becomes inedible. “One little [extra] pinch of salt can ruin a dish,” Kocet says. “Talk that through with the client: In life, what do you have that’s not enough or too much? What in your life is that extra pinch of salt? Is it unleashing an opinion on a family member? How can we control that?”

Similarly, acid is very powerful and must be wielded correctly, as in ceviche, in which citrus juice is used to cook the dish without heat. Continuing the metaphor, a counselor can ask a client about the “acid” they have in their life. “Maybe their sarcastic humor is biting. Talk about when that can be useful and when it can be hurtful,” advises Kocet, a licensed mental health counselor and approved clinical supervisor who provides pro bono counseling at the Center on Halsted, an LGBTQ community center in Chicago.

Food, eating and cooking are so intertwined in most people’s life histories, perspectives and preferences that they can become beneficial tools when leveraged in counseling, says Kocet, who taught a course on “culinary therapy” when he was a professor at Bridgewater State University in Massachusetts. Although he no longer teaches that class, he continues to weave culinary elements into his work with clients and students in Chicago and has provided workshops and trainings on the topic.

In addition to tapping into a bountiful supply of culinary-related therapeutic metaphors and conversation starters, counselors can consider giving clients the assignment (when appropriate) of cooking a dish at home and debriefing in session afterward. The dish doesn’t need to be anything complicated, Kocet emphasizes. It could be a peanut butter and jelly sandwich or a simple salad, he adds. Cooking or preparing food mindfully, no matter the recipe, can prompt reflection. Tracking experiences in a cooking journal may also benefit clients who respond well to this approach.

“Food is often a binding element,” Kocet explains. “If I have a client who is struggling in a relationship, I might have them cook a recipe that represents their relationship and talk about that [in session afterward]. Or if a client and their partner are from two different cultures, I might have them cook a meal that incorporates elements from their two cultures. … One aspect to [help] forge cultural connection with clients is to discuss food: what they grew up eating and what was ‘celebration’ food. That’s one way to get to know the client a little more. Clients are often really proud of food and cultural traditions, and it’s one way to connect and break down barriers in a counseling setting.”

Assignments for a client to cook with a partner or family member can prompt bonding and offer a fun and creative way to work on healthy behaviors introduced in counseling, Kocet adds. Also, cooking “failures” don’t have to be failures when talked about and learned from in counseling. Perhaps a client forgot an ingredient or strayed from the recipe. How does that parallel the choices made and lessons learned in their life outside of the kitchen?

Even time spent cleaning up and washing dishes after cooking can serve as a mindfulness exercise, Kocet points out. Practitioners could suggest that clients take time to reflect on how they felt stepping outside of their comfort zone to try a new recipe as they clean up the kitchen and feel the dishwater on their hands.

Kocet has developed a culinary version of the genogram mapping tool that he uses with clients to delve into family issues. He keeps a small collection of cooking spices and a sleeve of mini paper cups in his counseling bag. As he begins the exercise, he lines all of the spice containers up on the table and asks the client to select a spice that represents them and other members of their family circle. The client pours a little bit of each person’s spice into a separate cup. Eventually, a constellation of spice-filled cups is displayed in front of them.

Kocet prompts the client to talk through why they chose that particular spice for each person. Cinnamon or red pepper flakes might signify either a warm personality or a hot temper, Kocet points out. The exercise encourages clients to talk through issues related to their own identity and helps the counselor better understand how the person views their family network, Kocet explains. Similarly, questions that invite discussion of traditions and memories surrounding food can encourage clients to reflect and open up, while giving practitioners additional context on clients’ families of origin and related emotions.

Kocet, an ACA member and a past president of the Society for Sexual, Affectional, Intersex and Gender Expansive Identities (SAIGE), a division of ACA, specializes in grief counseling. “If a client is missing someone they lost, such as a grandmother, it can bring comfort to cook a dish that she used to make,” he says. “Cooking uses all the senses — we can connect with loved ones through the tastes and smells [involved] in the act of cooking.”

As with any counseling intervention, practitioners must be mindful of the ethical ramifications of incorporating cooking and culinary elements into therapy and consider whether it is appropriate for each individual client, Kocet stresses. Clinicians should practice caution in using the approach with clients who struggle with disordered eating, and cooking assignments should not be given to clients who have a history of suicidal ideation or self-harm because knives and other equipment could be involved, he says.

Kocet plans to continue exploring the use of culinary elements in counseling and is in the early stages of a research study on therapeutic cooking as a coping tool for the isolation, anxiety and depression people have experienced during the COVID-19 pandemic.

 

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Staying within scope of practice

Practitioners considering the use of nontraditional approaches in client sessions must always keep the profession’s ethical guidelines in mind. Professional counselors’ licensure guidelines and scope of practice vary from state to state. Practitioners must ensure that any approach, whether a widely used talk intervention or one of many complementary methods such as aromatherapy, reiki, yoga, acupuncture and others, fall within their state’s scope of practice regulations before using them with clients or students.

In addition, counselors must consider the potential risks to client welfare, whether the approach is evidence-based (which is called for by the 2014 ACA Code of Ethics), and their own level of competency in using the method.

 

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Contact the counselors interviewed for this article:

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Bethany Bray is a senior writer and social media coordinator for Counseling Today. Contact her at bbray@counseling.org.

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

Online role-playing games as group therapy during the COVID-19 pandemic

By Per Eisenman and Ally Bernstein February 18, 2021

During the challenging era of COVID-19, many young people are experiencing the sort of isolation that can interfere with healthy social development. This may be particularly true for young people who were already wrestling with significant mental health challenges before the pandemic. Telehealth group therapy that utilizes role-playing games offers a hopeful modality for facilitating individual growth in a group context.

Setting the stage

When one of us logs in to the Zoom session 10 minutes early, a picture of a cat immediately pops up. Martin has been waiting all morning for the group to start. He appears briefly and shows us his cat, Betty, sitting on his lap, before turning the video off so that only the photo of Betty is visible.

Gradually, everyone else joins and our game begins. Martin is committed to the group; he has never missed a session and is always early. In Dungeons and Dragons and other role-playing games, group members play fantastic adventurers, working together to overcome obstacles and gain rewards. The facilitator narrates a story, and the group members describe how their characters respond.

Martin plays an elf wizard named Sylvan who has a cat (also named Betty) as his magical animal companion. Martin was initially a bit shy but has integrated into the group and participates in collaborative decisions; he also loves to talk about Sylvan’s cat and backstory. Martin joined the group after the COVID-19 stay-at-home order in the spring of 2020, once we moved to a virtual environment. As is the case with some others in the group, this is Martin’s only social contact outside his family.

The therapeutic group allows for a structured social interaction — a place where people can connect, practice social skills, and modulate their inner and outer worlds. Many of the young people we work with experience social anxiety, depression or social skill deficits. The experience of a safe social setting where they can experiment with becoming someone else allows them to develop connections that can be both an antidote to loneliness and an opportunity for growth.

The COVID-19 pandemic has been a time of isolation. Young people especially are having fewer opportunities to develop socially, and schools are not able to provide as many opportunities for social contact. Telehealth group therapy using role-playing games creates opportunities for social connection and resiliency-building that may not be possible in person during the pandemic.

Collaborative creativity

Role-playing games hold a place in the pop-culture imagination as a niche interest, but their popularity has increased in recent years, and therapists have started implementing the games more widely as a group therapy modality for older children and adolescents. In role-playing games, one facilitator describes an imaginary world, and the participants (playing characters) describe their actions in that world. Sometimes success and failure are based on dice rolls, but players’ creativity and collaboration are also key in helping a group achieve its goals within the world. The game has many decision points, and each player can change the course of the story.

Martin’s character, Sylvan, has blasted open treasure chests with fireballs, duped goblins by pretending to be their grandmother, and hatched a dragon egg. Martin’s creativity influenced the world for himself and the other players, creating a new set of circumstances and changing the direction of the story.

During the game, the facilitator sets the stage: “You enter the pirate’s cavern. As you go in, you see a couple of pirates standing guard.”

The group members discuss how they would like to respond. Should they fight the pirates or try to sneak past them?

“Let’s trick them,” Maya suggests enthusiastically. Maya is shy in real life, but in the game, she plays a tough brute who likes smashing down doors. Martin’s character is cunning and enjoys deception. He likes the idea, and they work together to come up with a ruse.

Martin’s character says, “We are poor pirates who have lost our way in the tunnels. Could you tell us the way to the ship?” He rolls the dice to see whether he can convince the pirate guards to let them pass.

Traditionally, role-playing games are played in person, sitting around a table with maps of the adventure setting, rolling dice, and telling the story together. However, it is possible to play the games remotely through videoconferencing and the use of online platforms. In recent years, remote role-playing game use has increased dramatically. The virtual medium confers new benefits during the COVID-19 pandemic and in an era of physical distancing. It translates surprisingly well to a telehealth group therapy experience. Martin, who struggles with social anxiety, told facilitators, “I like playing online better. I can turn off my video.”

Emergence of change

In the many groups we have run with colleagues, we have observed the emergence of group dynamics and group member interactions that have influenced the choices members make and their participation in the group. Some group dynamics become apparent through the group members’ interactions with one another or from the progress of the group over the course of many sessions. Other patterns emerge in the development of individual group members and the impact they have on the group.

We were particularly struck by the memory of Kendra, who had a very clear vision of how she wanted the game to proceed. She wanted to control the narrative so badly that she soon began frustrating the other players.

“Can I roll the dice to persuade Maya that she should give me her gold?” Kendra asked. She prioritized stealing gold or impressing pirates controlled by the game master over helping the other characters.

This led to frustration among the other group members. Some members began to go silent. One spoke out angrily against Kendra, suggesting the group members’ characters fight Kendra’s character. The frustration of the group turned into a discussion, and Kendra ended up changing her character’s behavior entirely, deciding that her character needed to work with the group and eventually save them, sacrificing herself for the greater good.

She said, “I want my character to help the group, but the shift has to make sense for her character arc. She can’t just change overnight.” We had numerous discussions about what it might mean for her character to develop.

We asked the other group members what they valued about the game, and another member said, “Working together as a team.” The emotional message felt palpable. We were thrilled that the adolescent participants were able to lead this discussion themselves and process as a group with only minimal prompting from the adult facilitators.

Role-playing games involve the players describing the actions of their characters, while the game master describes the rest of the world and the people who inhabit it. The world is imaginary, and visual aids are optional. In a therapeutic group, this system allows for group members to explore identity construction and navigate group dynamics. Therapy groups for teens support the essential task of identity development in the context of relationships with peers and adults.

Much like with any good therapeutic group, what happens within the context of the game often reflects the members’ lives out-of-game. When the game master is also a therapist, questions such as “How are you similar or different from your character?” and “Why did your character make that decision?” make the game a clinical experience. The avatar of the character allows each group member a safe distance through which to explore, process, experiment, fail and succeed.

Group process as an adventure

Role-playing games have long been an effective group therapeutic modality, but creating a shared imaginary world presents unique opportunities during the COVID-19 pandemic, when we are unable to safely convene in person.

Every age has different developmental tasks to achieve, and during the pandemic, these tasks have either been interrupted or have required us to make notable changes in how we carry them out. With schools shifting the way education is delivered because of the pandemic, the amount of social interaction has been significantly reduced. On the whole, we are spending more time isolated from others, and young people are having fewer opportunities to develop socially. Role-playing games, a high-interest activity, allow for social experiences to happen through telehealth in a way that might currently be impossible in person.

Role-playing games feature goals, conflict, choices and relationships. Young people can do something together by completing tasks that require creativity and teamwork. Playing every week creates routine and ritual. Having a group means that young people have regular contact with adults and peers outside their immediate family.

Games can be adapted for different age groups and needs. Children and adolescents can develop executive function and practice resiliency. The technology necessary to play the game online can malfunction and lead to frustration, allowing participants to practice patience and engage in troubleshooting. Also, because the games are fun and silly and joyful, the fantasy setting can provide everyone with a much-needed break from the stress and grief of the current world (or a way to process grief and loss, because characters can die too).

This innovative form of group telecounseling provides an opportunity to engage young people who might not otherwise actively participate in a group process. It also provides an opportunity to support the cultivation of interpersonal relationships with group members in serious need of social skill development. Right now, during the pandemic, if we want to offer something that simulates living and striving in close proximity to others, we can. These challenging times call for innovation. Therapy can become exactly what kids need: a safe but exciting place to be challenged to grow. In other words, an adventure.

 

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Related reading, from the CT archives: “The power of virtual group therapy during a time of quarantine

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Per Eisenman (peisenman@csac-vt.org) and Ally Bernstein (abernstein@csac-vt.org) are community mental health counselors in the Youth and Family Services Program at the Counseling Services of Addison County in Middlebury, Vermont. They have been leading therapeutic groups for teenagers using role-playing games since 2015 and 2018, respectively. At the beginning of the COVID-19 pandemic, they transitioned these groups to telehealth.

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

The power of virtual group therapy during a time of quarantine

By Scott Gleeson July 1, 2020

In our newfound world of physical distancing, the idea of six to eight people in a confined space might feel counterintuitive to the six-feet-apart mission we still find ourselves trekking in wake of the coronavirus pandemic. Yet the power of a group is exactly what could provide a profound healing method for so many in times of intensified life anxieties and social isolation.

Mental health clinicians everywhere have been thrust into virtual counseling scenarios because of shelter-in-place restrictions, with telehealth numbers skyrocketing in March, April and May, according to the Department of Health and Human Services. Although in-person individual sessions are poised to become more feasible this summer, physical distancing practices and safety precautions are likely to keep group therapy sessions at a minimum.

That’s where virtual group therapy can be essential.

As a facilitator for a small men’s group at a private practice in Downers Grove, Illinois, I was hesitant about virtual group sessions temporarily replacing our biweekly meetings back in mid-March. By now, even with FaceTime and Skype temporarily being deemed HIPAA-compliant, I am guessing that we all can relate to the technical and natural difficulties that can ensue with any virtual session.

Is the Wi-Fi spotty to the point that the client’s responses are delayed, leading to talking over each other? Is a client’s body language difficult to read on-screen, or are they tenser and more reluctant to open up? Is privacy a never-ending challenge? The task of organizing a successful group session over a virtual platform was certainly daunting to me.

Despite my apprehension, our first quarantined men’s group session was one of the best we have had in the nearly two years the group has been running. The reason? There was a true need to connect.

Our meetings are facilitated as an open group, and we recently welcomed a few new members virtually, but it takes the life of a closed group because of the culture of camaraderie. The men in our group are all going through something different, and we cover topics ranging from marriage and parental struggles to loss and relationship dynamics. The demographic makeup of the group is diverse, but because of the support the guys feel when sharing their current life stressors (sometimes in great depth), there is often a sense of inhabiting common ground. Once we got used to the Brady Bunch-looking setup of the virtual platform, we didn’t skip a beat in this regard. The synergy we had developed over time carried over to make the virtual group setting still feel organic and comforting.

Irvin Yalom has popularized 11 therapeutic principles for high-functioning groups, and among those key principles are universality and instillation of hope. In these emotionally turbulent times, the cohesiveness felt in group therapy can take on new meaning because of the umbrella of uncertainty we are living under. And the need to foster optimism during a global crisis has been catapulted to the forefront.

What follows is a look at three important ways virtual group therapy can bolster clients’ mental health during unprecedented challenges.

Addressing uncertainties: One ripple effect of the COVID-19 pandemic has been the hit to the economy that left many workers jobless, furloughed or taking significant pay cuts. That’s where the power of catharsis comes in.

Throughout our group’s spring meetings, one common theme the guys shared was how discombobulated they felt by the uncertainty of everything, especially economically. Upon soliciting feedback, many group members shared that it was helpful simply to air out those feelings and connect with others universally.

Checking in on self-care: Quarantining drastically complicates the goal of maintaining proper self-care. The World Health Organization (WHO) has suggested a rise in depression as a result of routines and livelihoods being altered.

Of course, standard self-care practices for many men (going to the gym, drinking beers at a bar, playing contact-centric sports) quickly fell out of the picture as the pandemic escalated. That pushed our group members to get more innovative and imaginative.

One of our guys ramped up from-home workouts. Another started calling one new friend each day. Another started a Star Wars marathon. Another began virtual guitar lessons. Another started baking for the first time ever (desperate times indeed!). This is where the altruism offered by group becomes an emotional springboard. In sharing their strengths and creative ideas, each member’s self-esteem received a boost.

Creating much-needed positive connection. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has recommended connecting with others and “talking with people you trust” during times of quarantine. Participating in happy hour with co-workers over Zoom or hosting informal college reunions over Facebook Messenger can undoubtedly offer a great morale boost.

The difference between those types of meetups and a therapeutic group can be found in the layers of emotionality present. Raw feelings of “I miss my kids” or “Nothing I do is ever enough for my wife” take on a different tone in a group that fosters emotional processing vs. another round of drinks.

One important element to consider is the idea of connection provided by social media and how an overconsumption of that medium can actually be detrimental to well-being. That’s especially the case when it comes to ingesting news that often has negative headlines. The WHO recommends limiting news consumption and taking in at least one positive story each day. To honor that guidance, consider starting or ending virtual group meetings by having each group member share a positive story.

Every class I took for my online master’s program at Northwestern University’s Family Institute was over a virtual platform. So, in many ways, I was trained in a digital arena, with case conceptualization and role-plays constructed in Zoom breakout rooms. One of my biggest takeaways from that experience was how close I actually became with my classmates. We had met in person maybe once before graduation, yet there was a potent bond that was fostered through the intimacy of a computer screen.

I feel a similar sense of unity now in virtual counseling groups. In a day and age when physical touch is less plentiful, togetherness has never been more vital for all of us.

 

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Scott Gleeson is a licensed professional counselor at DG Counseling in Downers Grove, Illinois, and Chicago. Contact him at scottmgleeson@gmail.com.

 

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

More than simply shy

By Bethany Bray July 29, 2019

Social anxiety is different from — and much more than — simply being shy or introverted or having poor social skills. Even so, people who live with social anxiety often find the disorder trivialized or minimized by others, including some mental health professionals, according to Robin Miller, a licensed professional counselor (LPC) and a member of the American Counseling Association.

“Shyness doesn’t necessarily have a negative impact on someone’s life. That’s an important thing to remember from a clinical point of view,” explains Miller, who specializes in working with adults with anxiety disorders at an outpatient practice just outside of Milwaukee. “Many of my clients get a pat on the head from people and [comments such as], ‘You’re just shy. You have nothing to worry about.’ But you wouldn’t get that for [symptoms of] posttraumatic stress disorder or other mental health issues. You wouldn’t say there’s nothing to worry about.”

Most of all, clients with social anxiety need support and reassurance as they try to discontinue old patterns and behaviors that they have adopted to cope with the paralyzing fear that often accompanies the disorder, says Brad Imhoff, an LPC who was diagnosed with social anxiety disorder in 2012 as he was working on his doctorate.

One characteristic of social anxiety is a constant feeling of apprehension regarding social situations. It is difficult to express just how oppressive and pervasive that feeling can be, says Imhoff, an assistant professor of counseling at Liberty University who lives in central Ohio and teaches in the university’s online program. “You carry this feeling of ‘I just can’t do this’ all the time,” he says. “As human beings, we’re social. And apprehension in every one of [those social situations] can be overwhelming.”

Imhoff, a member of ACA, says he recognizes the irony of his career choice: a person with social anxiety who speaks regularly to rooms full of people, both as a counselor educator and as a frequent presenter at conferences, including giving a session on social anxiety at the ACA 2019 Conference & Expo in New Orleans.

Imhoff has learned to navigate the challenges of social anxiety since his diagnosis, but he acknowledges still feeling anxious before speaking engagements. “The question is, how do I manage it and not let it get in the way of life?” he says. “I will have to manage this, to some extent, for my entire life and not let it get to the extremes it has in the past.”

Navigating life through avoidance

Social anxiety is one of a number of related issues — including specific phobia, panic disorder, separation anxiety disorder, generalized anxiety disorder and others — that fall under the anxiety heading in the fifth edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders.

Called social phobia in decades past, social anxiety disorder is characterized by persistent fear over social or performance-related situations, according to the National Institute of Mental Health, which cites diagnostic interview data to estimate that 12.1% of U.S. adults will experience social anxiety disorder during their lifetime. Among adolescents ages 13-18, the lifetime prevalence is 9.1%. For all ages, social anxiety disorder is more prevalent in females than in males.

Researchers have not singled out a specific cause for social anxiety disorder, pointing instead to a combination of biological and environmental factors as contributors. Genetics appears to play a large role in many cases, as can negative childhood experiences such as family conflict or being bullied, teased or rejected by peers. It is also believed that individuals who have an overactive amygdala may experience more anxiety in social situations.

According to the Center for the Treatment and Study of Anxiety at the University of Pennsylvania, “Social anxiety disorder can affect people of any age. However, the disorder typically emerges during adolescence in teens with a history of social inhibition or shyness. The onset is usually accompanied by a stressful or humiliating experience, and the severity varies by individual. … There is a higher incidence of social anxiety disorder in individuals with first-degree relatives affected by other panic and anxiety disorders. However, there is no one gene that explains this biological trend. General findings indicate that personal experiences, social environment and biology all play a role in the development of the disorder.”

People often experience symptoms of social anxiety disorder to varying degrees across the life span, according to the center. Symptoms may lessen for stretches of time and then worsen during periods of change or stress, such as a job transition or when dealing with feelings of grief and loss.

What sets social anxiety apart from general anxiety is not only the social component but also an intense fear of judgment by others, explains Holly Scott, an LPC whose Dallas private practice is a regional clinic of the National Social Anxiety Center. People with social anxiety often harbor strong and pervasive feelings that others will notice their anxiety and judge them, which triggers avoidance behaviors, she says.

At the same time, there are nuances to the diagnosis, and social anxiety can look different in each client, Scott adds. For example, someone may be fine with public speaking and yet not be able to walk into a room in which they don’t know anyone.

“People think it’s not treatable,” Scott says. “Clients label it as ‘this is just the way I am, and I can’t change the way I am.’ It can be difficult to treat or to find a qualified practitioner, but it is treatable.”

Imhoff says he has read that on average, people go 15 years before seeking treatment for social anxiety. Counseling itself is a social interaction, he notes, and people with social anxiety may avoid treatment out of a fear of the close interaction or of being scrutinized by a practitioner.

Because people with social anxiety typically adopt avoidance as one of their coping mechanisms, and perhaps because of the way that social anxiety tends to get minimized or passed off as simply being introverted or shy, these clients often live life without seeking treatment until they reach a breaking point. As Imhoff points out, people can self-manage their social anxiety for an extended period of time by maintaining the same small circle of friends and following certain behavioral patterns such as always using the self-service checkout line at the grocery store.

Living with social anxiety is their reality, Imhoff explains, and they “forge ahead until something causes [them] to realize it’s more significant.” For Imhoff, that “something” was the impending scrutiny involved in defending his doctoral thesis.

“For social anxiety, it’s possible to navigate life with avoidance and survive for a long time. Then something comes up — a life change, such as entering the workforce — that causes them to need help,” he says. “A lot of these safety behaviors aren’t being done consciously. They are things we’ve done throughout our lives to find safety.”

Assessment and core beliefs

Avoidance behaviors are one of the biggest red flags that a client might be dealing with social anxiety, Miller says. These behaviors can extend to staying in situations in which the person is unhappy yet comfortable, such as a bad romantic relationship, a toxic friendship or a job that the person doesn’t enjoy or isn’t advancing in.

Other indicators include rumination and overthinking social experiences. This can include asking oneself over and over again, “What did that person think of me?” Miller explains, whether it’s an interaction with a neighbor while walking the dog or a yearly performance evaluation with one’s supervisor.

Counselors should be aware that social anxiety often co-occurs with other mental health issues such as depression and substance abuse (which often becomes a coping mechanism) that may need to be treated first or in tandem with the disorder, Miller adds. In addition, other issues such as grief may be complicating a client’s social anxiety. “They’re not always struggling with one thing. Make sure you’re working on what they’re struggling with the most,” Miller says.

Scott suggests asking clients at intake about how they deal with social situations and how often they go to gatherings or parties. Are they uncomfortable introducing themselves to new people, making a phone call or using the restroom in public places? If Scott hears symptoms that might indicate the presence of social anxiety, she uses a questionnaire (she recommends the Liebowitz Social Anxiety Scale, available at nationalsocialanxietycenter.com) to pinpoint the client’s fear level and to identify goals to focus on in therapy.

It can also be helpful to identify a client’s core beliefs and values and how those are affecting the person’s choices and behaviors, Imhoff says. People with social anxiety often carry a core belief that they’re inadequate or inferior, which spurs a fear of being judged, he explains. These clients frequently place weight and focus on situations that seemingly confirm their core belief and discount those that might disprove it. They might ruminate over a conversation with a colleague that didn’t go well, for example, without giving any consideration to all of the past conversations that did go well, Imhoff notes.

“They move through life paying very close attention to and taking to heart scenarios that confirm their core belief,” he says. “It’s important to help the client take off the blinders. Talk through ways they are competent, and get to the root of their concerns. Be aware of the multitude of their experiences and not just those they struggle with.”

To identify core beliefs, counselors can listen for themes in the way that clients talk about themselves, other people and the world. These themes can suggest deeply held beliefs to challenge or to explore further in therapy. Having clients work on thought journals can also be helpful in finding patterns, Imhoff says. He also suggests using a prediction log, in which clients name upcoming social scenarios that make them anxious and describe what they assume will happen. After the scenario occurs, clients can look back at their predictions with the counselor to talk through how accurate these foresights were.

After core beliefs and values have been identified, the counselor can work with clients to reframe their perspective around new core beliefs. For example, clients who place value on providing for their family could focus on that value to help them overcome their anxiety and discomfort over applying for a new job.

“Look for evidence that supports their new core belief,” Imhoff says. “If their belief is ‘I am capable,’ have them write down even the most minor piece of evidence [in a journal]. It makes it concrete and documented so they can refer back to it and talk it through with a counselor.”

From there, the counselor can work with clients on challenging cognitive distortions and black-and-white thinking, Imhoff suggests. Acceptance and commitment therapy (ACT) can be helpful, as can guiding clients to adopt a growth-focused orientation. With that mindset, every social interaction becomes an opportunity to learn rather than a pass-fail situation, Imhoff explains.

Clients with social anxiety may also feel that they’re failing because they can’t assume an extroverted, life-of-the-party façade. Counselors can help these clients learn that there is a continuum of social skills, Imhoff says. For example, perhaps they got through a work meeting and contributed their thoughts despite having a shaky voice and sweaty palms. “Work on [helping them realize] that it’s not black and white, it’s not all success or failure. There’s an in between for almost all scenarios,” he says. “Help them to recognize that in all social interaction, there is ebb and flow. It’s not a pass-fail exercise but an opportunity to connect with someone and learn moving forward.”

Additionally, ACT techniques can help clients learn to accept their anxiety rather than trying to get rid of it or avoiding triggering situations. Imhoff uses the imagery of “keeping anxiety in the passenger seat because I know it’s coming along but not letting it take control of the wheel.” Clients can learn to say, “There you are anxiety; I knew you were coming,” even as they move on with life and navigate situations they previously would have avoided.

Scott regularly uses cognitive restructuring and cognitive behavior therapy (CBT) with her clients who have social anxiety. She also uses a mindfulness technique called curiosity training that helps clients label their anxious thoughts as “background noise.” With this technique, users try to adopt an approach of curiosity about and interest in what is being said by others rather than assuming that others are judging them.

“In any situation,” Scott says, “whether they’re having a conversation, public speaking or sitting somewhere having lunch, they’ve usually got a constant dialogue going in their head. [It’s] self-criticism about how people must be thinking of them: ‘They don’t like my clothes’ or ‘I just stuttered while speaking.’ Curiosity training helps keep your mind on the present and learn how to pull your mind back when it starts wandering.”

Elizabeth Shuler, an LPC who has been working as an international school counselor in Amman, Jordan, for four years, recommends mindfulness techniques. She has often used Kristin Neff’s self-compassion practices in addition to dialectical behavior therapy, meditation and yoga for clients with social anxiety, both when she was in private practice in Colorado and Wyoming and currently in her work with adolescents and adults at her school.

“When we dig into their fears, most clients with social anxiety are really afraid that other people will agree with their own negative judgments of themselves. They’re worried that they will be proved right,” says Shuler, an ACA member. “I had a client who walked through the office the same way every day to avoid the people he was afraid of interacting with and had panic attacks when his route had to change or people he was avoiding crossed his path. These types of behaviors are meant to stave off panic but end up reinforcing it. My role as a counselor is to help clients see how these behaviors are actually making their panic worse and help them to slowly replace them with more helpful behaviors.”

Exposure

Exposure techniques are often central to treating social anxiety because they gradually reintroduce clients to anxiety-provoking situations in a healthy way.

Miller is trained in exposure and response prevention and finds it a powerful tool for working with clients with social anxiety. The behavioral technique requires clients to put in a lot of work themselves outside of sessions. The counselor collaborates with the client to develop a hierarchy of exposure based on the client’s needs and treatment goals and supports the client throughout the process.

As Miller explains, exposure assignments start small and build over time as clients become comfortable with each homework task. She describes this as a “Goldilocks situation” — not too much challenge and not too little, but just the right amount, tailored to each individual client. Miller says she emphasizes to clients that the treatment is in their hands — they have to do their part to experience a successful outcome.

“A lot of people have anticipatory anxiety, but once they do it [complete the exposure assignment], they’re OK,” Miller says. “A lot of people get over that hill of worry. They do it for a week or two and realize they can do it. Trust between a client and clinician is huge because we’re asking them to do really scary things.”

Miller often gives clients who are early in treatment the assignment of calling multiple businesses to ask what their hours are. Clients might have to overcome feeling a little foolish because that information is readily available on the internet, she notes. However, the goal is for clients to complete the task without falling back on habits they formed to avoid social situations, such as relying on technology in lieu of having personal interactions. Clients repeat the task over and over until they no longer feel anxious about picking up the phone and making a call, she explains.

Once they’ve mastered that task, clients might move on to going inside a store and asking a question in person. Or they might switch to walking their dog in their neighborhood during a busy time of day and saying hello to at least one other person during each walk.

As clients complete each task and return to their next counseling session, they process these interactions with Miller, discussing how the interactions felt to them and what went right or wrong. “Sometimes the client will come in and say, ‘I’m so bored with this.’ I say, ‘Great! That means it’s time to move on to something bigger,’” Miller says. “You need repetition with assignments. You need to do [tasks] over and over for your brain to get used to it. … The more you do it, [the more] it overwrites [old] patterns and anxious feelings.”

As a practitioner who specializes in treating social anxiety, Scott has a laundry list of exposure assignments that she uses with clients, ranging from making eye contact during a shopping trip to asking for directions from a stranger to calling into a radio talk show to singing karaoke. As clients progress, it can be helpful to assign them tasks that are certain to create some level of discomfort or awkwardness, such as going into Starbucks and ordering a hamburger, she says. This can be especially hard for clients who have a strong fear of being judged by others, but dealing with the responses they receive desensitizes these clients over time as they repeat the tasks.

Miller acknowledges that counselors may need to provide their clients with some ongoing motivation during exposure work. If clients come to session without completing their assigned tasks, she suggests asking leading questions to find out if they are avoiding the work or genuinely struggling to make it a priority among their other challenges.

“Who wants to go home and do anxiety-provoking things?” Miller says. “[We] have to find a way to motivate them. We want them to feel empowered to go out and do [an assignment]. Remind them that they’re in pain because something is not changing. … You can’t snap your fingers and make this go away. It’s going to be hard work and take time.”

It can be useful to circle back and remind clients of their core beliefs and the goals they want to achieve. For example, consider clients who say they ultimately want to start a family but whose social anxiety prevents them from entering the dating scene and potentially meeting a partner.

“They may not see how calling a drugstore [as an exposure assignment] is getting them to be able to date. But remind them that they’re building a foundation to be able to do that,” Miller says. “It may not have an immediate payoff, but the easier these things become for you, everything builds.”

Miller often uses the metaphor of training for a marathon to keep clients motivated. You don’t run 26.2 miles right away, she tells them. You start with one or two miles and then keep adding more distance, mile by mile.

Social skills

In addition to exposure work and cognitive restructuring, the counselors interviewed for this article recommend social skills training for clients with social anxiety. Avoidance behaviors may have kept these clients from learning and practicing social skills that are commonplace among their peers who do not deal with social anxiety.

“If you’ve been avoidant for years, you miss out on learning from all of the social interaction that others have had,” Miller says. “Sometimes they’ve built a life to minimize their pain, their anxiety.”

Goal setting and planning ahead, with support from a counselor, can help these clients navigate situations that are foreign to them and that naturally provoke anxiety. Miller suggests troubleshooting with clients. For instance, if their office holiday party is coming up, a counselor can talk through expected behaviors with clients and work on small talk and other exercises to help them get through the evening.

Setting realistic goals can also be comforting, Miller adds. “[They] don’t have to go in and work the room, [but] if they haven’t had a lot of social experience, they may not realize what’s expected,” Miller says. Instead, clients might set a goal of talking to three people whom they already know. Maybe at next year’s party, they can increase that goal from three people to five people.

Miller also reminds clients that a certain measure of social anxiety is simply part of being human. Even she, a therapist who makes a living talking to people, acknowledges sometimes being uncomfortable in social situations.

Kevin Hull is a licensed mental health counselor with a private practice in Lakeland, Florida, who specializes in counseling children, adolescents and young adults on the autism spectrum. Social skills training, along with group therapy, plays a large role in the work Hull does with clients around social anxiety, which he says often goes hand in hand with autism.

In individual counseling sessions, Hull uses puppets with clients to role-play social situations and work through what is expected. For example, Hull might instruct clients to verbalize a food order to his puppet without the usual help from mom or dad or ask his puppet for help finding a certain building on a school campus. Afterward, they process the experience together and talk about the emotions clients felt as their puppet had to interact and ask questions.

Humor can also be a great tool for overcoming the fear associated with social anxiety, says Hull, a member of ACA. He often shows clips of TV shows or movies (via YouTube) in client sessions as a lighthearted way of starting conversations about what is and isn’t appropriate when it comes to social skills. Particularly popular with clients are scenes with The Big Bang Theory’s Sheldon Cooper wrapping himself in bubble wrap to stay safe or wearing a second set of “bus pants” over his work outfit when taking public transportation. Another favorite is the title character in How the Grinch Stole Christmas, who initially can’t stand being around the Whos but ends up transforming over the course of the story.

“Using humor is a great thing to counter the fear,” Hull says. “When you can laugh at something, that gets people opening up and listening.”

Group work

Group therapy — a format in which clients are expected to interact with others and contribute to a discussion — would seem to be a nightmare for individuals who are socially anxious. But that’s not necessarily the case, according to Hull.

Although it can take clients some time to warm up to the idea, group therapy can play a powerful role in imparting the skills needed to navigate social anxiety, says Hull, an assistant professor and faculty adviser in Liberty University’s online master’s counseling program. In addition to helping participants sharpen their social skills, group counseling can instill perspective — something with which Hull’s clients who are autistic sometimes need extra help.

“With autism, clients have a hard time putting themselves in others’ shoes, so group is a great way for them to hear from the mouths of peers [and] hear them talk about what they’re going through,” Hull says. “Maybe someone [in group] had to ride a different bus than usual. It was terrifying at first, but they were OK and actually ended up talking to the person they sat next to.”

The group format, in which participants take turns offering comments, can model and teach the back-and-forth “tennis match” that is the basis of healthy conversation, Hull adds. It can also help clients learn to tolerate and listen when someone is talking about a subject that doesn’t interest them — a circumstance that previously would have triggered their fight-or-flight response and caused them to exit the situation.

Hull often has group participants speak for five minutes each on something they are passionate about. Afterward, he urges all of the group members to ask questions or make a comment about what was said.

“This is really hard with autism. If they don’t like something, it’s utterly meaningless to them,” Hull says. “This has them put themselves in others’ shoes and imagine how it’s like [something that they] like. This can transfer to social situations outside of group, such as a dinner party where other people are talking about whatever. Can you listen and learn something? It’s teaching their brain to overcome fear and learn a new normal. Everyone is scary when you first meet them, but you can do it. If you can do it in group, it’s the same as at school or a new job.”

Hull also uses video games in sessions as a way for participants to learn about group dynamics, leader/contributor roles and overcoming frustration (see sidebar, below).

It is important to prepare individuals with social anxiety for the group setting as much as possible ahead of time. Hull often shows clients the group room at his office (or emails them photos of it) and explains the format and what sessions will entail before they join group counseling.

“I walk back to the [group] room with the client and their caregiver before a group session so they can see it,” Hull says. “I explain, ‘Everyone who is coming here feels what you feel, and they’re all struggling with this.’”

When new clients join a group, he never makes them introduce themselves or speak right off the bat. He also allows them to bring anything that might boost their courage, such as a favorite stuffed animal or even a parent in the cases of younger clients. With social anxiety, it is important to allow clients to warm up and contribute at their own pace, he says.

“I can see group members five or six sessions in and they haven’t talked yet. I never stop trying to get them to engage or open up, even if all they can do is a head nod or fist bump,” Hull says. “[I emphasize that] I’m just happy they can be in the room.”

Hull acknowledges that group counseling isn’t a fit for every client who struggles with social anxiety. Social anxiety falls on a spectrum, and for some clients, the disorder is so severe that a group setting would be too much, he says. It is important to continue individual sessions with these clients, with group counseling becoming a possible long-term goal for some of them, he says.

When it comes to group counseling and social anxiety, it is crucial to take things step by step and to celebrate little victories, Hull emphasizes. With clients on the autism spectrum “the victories are fewer and far between,” he acknowledges, “but when they happen … you feel like you’ve won the Super Bowl.”

The long haul

Hull says that counselors should view social anxiety as a process rather than something to “fix.” Neuroscience tells us that the brain responds better to slow and steady change rather than forced or rushed adaptation. This is especially true for clients who struggle with social anxiety in addition to neurodevelopmental issues, past trauma or other mental health diagnoses, Hull notes.

Something else that counselors should avoid is projecting their assumptions onto clients with social anxiety. Just because the counselor went to prom as a teenager doesn’t mean that should automatically become a goal for every teenage client or, for that matter, even be considered the rite of passage that it once was, Hull says.

Counselors should really get to know their client’s world first before doing anything else, Hull says. “Avoid putting your agenda or perceptions on a client. We often see the potential in our clients, and it’s hard not to say, ‘Just do it!’ It can be discouraging and slow going at times, [but] be patient.”

 

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Technology and social anxiety: A double-edged sword

We live in a world where a person can text a happy birthday message to a friend, order a week’s worth of groceries for delivery and apply for a loan with the click of a button — all without having to speak to another human.

So, when it comes to social anxiety, technology can be a double-edged sword. Clients can certainly use it as an easy escape route to avoid social situations. At the same time, mental health practitioners can use it as a teaching tool with clients and as a bridge to overcoming long-held behavioral patterns.

“As great as it can be, technology can be part of avoidance,” says Robin Miller, a licensed professional counselor (LPC) who specializes in treating adults with anxiety. “Learn how to have conversations [about technology]. Make sure a client isn’t too reliant on it and unable to do things in a more social, direct way.”

Miller suggests that professional clinical counselors ask clients about their technology use at intake along with other questions about avoidance behaviors. Counselors can prompt clients to provide examples of situations where they feel most anxious and then listen for overreliance on technology, such as texting to ask someone out on a date or habitually using the self-service checkout line when shopping.

Social media can also exacerbate the assumption of judgment that often accompanies social anxiety, Miller adds. Clients who see photos and posts about friends’ and peers’ vacations, children or happy life events may come to believe that their lives pale in comparison.

Elizabeth Shuler, an LPC and an international school counselor, agrees. She says social media has created a new layer of social anxiety “centered around likes, comments and followers” in many of the adolescents with whom she works.

“I see students every day who are upset — to the point of panic attacks — that they’ve lost followers or that no one is liking their Instagram pictures. Instead of being afraid of being seen as stupid, these kids are afraid of not getting likes. It is a whole new world of judgment that has been unleashed on our teens, and it is taking a toll,” Shuler says. “However, many people who find face-to-face interaction intimidating can benefit from starting with digital interactions. Using texting, video and other digital means of conversation can help people with social anxiety learn social skills and give them a chance to practice new skills in a safer, lower stakes environment.”

Kevin Hull, a licensed mental health counselor in private practice, finds technology — specifically, video games — a natural tool for working with his young clients, many of whom are on the autism spectrum. In group counseling, Hull uses multiplayer games such as Minecraft to introduce clients to interacting and working together in a way that provokes less anxiety than face-to-face conversation might. Group members take turns being a “foreman” and leader in Minecraft sessions. The group learns to communicate and work together while dealing with frustrations and the nuances of the leader/contributor roles. “If technology wasn’t there, these kids would be even more regressed,” Hull says.

Conversations about technology use can also be an important part of social skills training in counseling, Hull adds. For example, young clients might claim that they are “dating” someone when they are actually just texting or playing video games together over the internet.

Hull often talks with clients about how texting is a good place to start communication but that it should not become their be-all, end-all. He’ll say to the client, “It’s great you’ve made a connection through texting, but what about the next level? Your brain’s process to communicate in text is the same as in speech. It’s just a different route.”

— Bethany Bray

 

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Social anxiety and college

The transition to college — leaving home, living with a roommate and establishing a new social circle, all while navigating academic responsibilities — doesn’t have to be paralyzing for students with social anxiety. Read more in our online exclusive, “Heading to college with social anxiety.”

 

 

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Contact the counselors interviewed for this article:

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Bethany Bray is a senior writer and social media coordinator for Counseling Today. Contact her at bbray@counseling.org.

Letters to the editor: ct@counseling.org

 

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.

Facilitating support groups for caregivers

By Brooke B. Collison July 8, 2019

The 40 million adults in the U.S. identified as caregivers often find themselves overwhelmed, lonely and depressed. They provide care on a part-time or full-time basis for individuals — usually family members — who, because of health or other reasons, need assistance with activities of daily living. Facilitated groups can provide a nonjudgmental framework for caregivers to find understanding and support from others who are in similar situations. Support groups can be self-sustaining, but they function best when a professional counselor or trained facilitator assists group members with their processing.

A gentle but convincing nudge from my spouse started my volunteer work as the facilitator of a caregiver support group six years ago. I continue to serve caregivers in that role today. My experience as a facilitator has allowed me to make a contribution in my retirement, and I encourage other counselors to explore the same possibility.

Enormous variability exists in caregiving situations, but common among them are conditions that are of high concern in aging populations: dementia, Alzheimer’s disease, chronic illness and other age-related deterioration. The three individuals my wife pointed out to me in church that Sunday morning had become full-time caregivers of spouses with Alzheimer’s disease. My spouse said to me, “They need a group. You should do something.”

The first group started with a direct invitation from me: “Would you like to get together with some other caregivers to have a place to talk?” I was met with quick affirmative responses from two of the three people I approached, and they were soon joined by a few others who heard something was beginning. Over time, the group grew to a dozen members, with some joining and some leaving as caregiving situations changed.

Nine deaths of care receivers occurred during the first three years before the caregivers decided to dissolve the group, having worked through the stresses and strains of caregiving, as well as the agonies and life-change issues of death. Among the caregivers in that first group were spouses, adult children, relatives of care receivers, and an employee of a care center. Although the medical and physical issues of care receivers were varied, the issues of being a caregiver seemed universal.

The support group was probably therapeutic, but it was not therapy. Although I have been a licensed counselor, I was the facilitator for the group, not the therapist. People entered the group voluntarily, and there was no contract that described my behaviors, philosophy or approach. I had retired as a counselor educator and did not renew my counseling license. So, I would clarify to new members that my role was to facilitate the discussions in the group. I also stated that I had no expertise in any of the medical issues being experienced by the care receivers. I explained that, as the facilitator, I would help manage the discussion, ask questions to clarify issues and, if I felt it necessary, remind members of the few general ground rules they had established for themselves: Treat personal situations and conversations with respect, don’t dominate, listen, and accept another person’s feelings and emotions as legitimate.

I do have a philosophy about support groups. I believe that most of these groups can develop to a point where they can manage their own issues and in-group communication. However, I saw part of my role as being somewhat protective of vulnerabilities among group members. If a member expressed strong feelings that might be contrary to the beliefs of another member, I would monitor critical responses. For example, if a caregiver expressed anger at a spouse or partner — “He makes me so mad when he …” — I would listen for the “You shouldn’t feel that way” response. This seldom happened, but when caregivers are living by the “in sickness and in health” vow they took at the beginning of their marriages, they can have a set of values that discourage anger toward or criticism of a spouse.

My belief is that the primary value of caregiver support groups is to provide a place where caregivers can give voice to stressful experiences, strong feelings and personal frustrations in the company of others who, ideally, give verbal and head-nod agreement with the issue rather than criticism or value-laden responses that only make these difficult feelings intensify. In short, caregiver support groups should provide what most people in the caregiver’s larger circle cannot give — authentic empathic understanding.

There have been times during the life of caregiver groups when I moved from the role of facilitator to member. I became a caregiver when my spouse broke her hip when we were traveling out of state, resulting in surgery and several months of recovery. At one session, I moved from “my spot” in the circle to a different chair and announced, “I’m a member today, not the facilitator.”

I proceeded to share an experience in which I had become quite upset over a huge mix-up in communication with my spouse that had left each of us very angry with the other. At the time, I saw our inability to clearly communicate — both in sending clear statements and in not understanding statements — as a scary image of what our future might become as we grew older. The communication mix-up, which became funny in time and with perspective, loomed at the time as a grim picture of a possible future. Members of the support group heard my story, shared their similar concerns, and accepted my worries. When I shared the same episode with other friends, it drew none of the same empathic understanding.

In a second major block of time in the same support group, I became more member than facilitator after my spouse was diagnosed with an untreatable brain cancer and lived only three more months. I remained in the group as a member, and another person took up the facilitator role very effectively.

Several kinds of support groups can be found in most communities. I prefer a noncurricular support group. In these groups, discussion topics emerge from the issues that caregivers bring to the sessions rather than from a predetermined agenda. Many support groups, especially those established for a fixed number of sessions, operate from a curricular base — sometimes even with a textbook — and have specific topics identified for each session. Other support groups may become more instructional in format. I believe the noncurricular support group provides the best opportunity for members to talk about the critical concerns and issues they have in the caregiver role and to find the greatest empathic understanding among a small group of people who share somewhat similar life situations.

Caregiver issues

In the caregiver support groups I have facilitated, members have raised a broad range of issues, including:

  • Loneliness
  • Depression
  • Role reversal
  • Becoming an advocate for the care receiver’s medical and social needs
  • Preparing for the care receiver’s death
  • Money/estate issues
  • Sexuality
  • Respite
  • Handling inappropriate questions and responses from others
  • Lack of patience
  • Anger
  • Relationship changes
  • Asking for, accepting, giving and refusing help
  • Decision-making for self and others
  • Concerns for their own health
  • Conflict with parents/siblings
  • Change in social supports
  • Moving the care receiver to a care facility and being an advocate for
    them there

I will comment on a few of these issues more specifically to demonstrate the value of a noncurricular caregiver support group.

Loneliness characterizes the lives of most caregivers to a certain degree and becomes extreme for some. Becoming a caregiver means that a person’s world changes. Day-to-day employment, recreational and social activities no longer exist for that person in the same way. In cases in which the care receiver’s dementia or other cognitive dysfunction begins to increase, the caregiver discovers that the person, although still physically present, begins to disappear. Loneliness becomes a way of life, as the years of sharing spirited discussions each morning over newspapers and coffee turn into coffee and silence. It isn’t uncommon in a support group to hear someone say, “She’s/He’s just not there.” The support group becomes a loneliness antidote for many members.

Depression is another common topic in caregiver support groups. More than a third of long-term caregivers experience depression, according to surveys reported by AARP. Caregivers might not use the word “depression” as they talk, but the behaviors and emotions they discuss often reflect that condition. In several group sessions, after a member has talked about depressed status, I have heard other members respond along the following lines: “I was feeling that way after my wife was at home for two months, and my physician labeled it as depression. I’m still on a prescription for antidepressants, and I think it’s perfectly OK to be on the pill.”

Role reversal happens in some fashion for nearly all caregivers who have had a long relationship with the care receiver. Couples who have been together for years and have fallen into clear divisions of responsibility around money management, food preparation, driving, decision-making and other tasks will discover that either physical or mental limitations force role changes. For example, the partner who never wrote a check finds that checks, credit cards, bills, tax preparation and all other money matters now fall under their domain. The person’s reaction to this can be either positive or negative. Being the fiscal manager may give the partner feelings of responsibility and control that they have not had before, or it can be experienced as an overwhelming burden that leaves the person feeling totally incompetent. Discussion of the effects of role reversals can be quite revealing to self and to others. If one partner who seldom drove the car because the other partner was extremely critical is now forced to become the driver — only to discover that the criticism from the nondriving care receiver only increases — relationship stress will multiply.

Lack of patience has been voiced by nearly every caregiver with whom I have had a group experience. As the person they care for starts to slow down physically or as their daily living abilities begin to disappear, caregivers see their daily load increasing, leaving them with less and less time to manage everything that needs to be done. Caregivers will often say their lack of patience is mixed with anger, even when they know it takes the care receiver longer to do nearly everything or that tasks and functions are forgotten or items misplaced. “It now takes 45 minutes to get from the house to the car, and I can feel my anger increasing with every minute. It makes us late for every appointment, and I have to start earlier and earlier for everything we do.” This statement brought unanimous head-nod agreement from an entire group. The discussion shifted to the resulting feelings of anger and loss, then moved into individual strategies for handling impatience and increased time requirements.

Becoming an advocate is a role that some people relish and others avoid. Caregivers are generally thrust into the role of patient advocate with the medical system, the care facility complex, and their surrounding social system in general. Frequent support group discussions have begun with a member telling their story of the previous week’s battle with some element of the complex that serves their care receiver. Sometimes these stories are ones of frustration, feelings of helplessness and lack of needed information. At other times, the story might emerge as a powerful feeling of accomplishment: “Yesterday, I met with the administrator of the assisted-living facility and demanded more attention to medication schedules.” These are moments for groups to celebrate, especially when caregivers who describe themselves as hesitant to challenge authority relate successful actions on behalf of their care receiver. Sometimes, when a discouraging episode has been shared, other members have related to the same issue or provided inside information gleaned from their own trying times. Some have even volunteered to accompany the caregiver to the next appointment.

Respite is labeled by experts as one of the most essential elements of caregiver health. As a topic in a support group, discussions frequently focus on how time away, or relief or respite care, would be appreciated. Simultaneously, caregivers will talk about how respite or any form of time away is impossible. This is frequently tied to the personal belief that the caregiver is the only person who can or should fulfill the task of giving care.

Help becomes a common discussion topic in one of several forms: Where do I get help? How do I ask for help? How do I turn down help? Embedded in many of these discussions are personal core values about what giving or receiving help really means. It is one of those topics where it would be easy for a facilitator to slip over into a therapist role. When caregivers describe how it is essential that they be the one who does everything and how impossible it is for them to accept help with any of their caregiver duties, the natural tendency of the trained therapist is to probe or confront or interpret in order to explore parental and other messages about help. It is also one of those situations in which group members may step in with their own illustrations of what help means, where their core values about help came from, and how their beliefs about help either facilitate or inhibit their functioning as caregivers. In staying away from my therapist tendencies to remain a facilitator, there are times when I can smile later and say to myself, “The group is doing what a good group does; they don’t need me to be the therapist.”

Information needs are high when someone first takes on the caregiver role. In early stages, they may be bombarded with pamphlets from their physician about specific diseases, friends may tell them about books to read, and technologically informed caregivers may search the web for sources. New caregivers are often directed to information support groups; medical facilities may offer groups for individuals with similarly named conditions. I find these groups helpful during the early information-gathering times, but their helpfulness diminishes when the caregiver gets deeper into the caregiving experience and discovers that information is important but not enough. It is more valuable for the caregiver to have a place where they can say, “My life is slipping away, and I don’t know what my future will be,” with six or seven people nodding in agreement. Then one of them says, “Yes, some days I don’t have anything that resembles my life before.”

Other issues common in support groups include concerns about money because long-term illness is expensive. If other family members are involved, conflict with siblings or other relatives is inevitably a cause of stress for the caregiver. Sexuality is usually discussed in the group relative to hygiene and physical care by others, but on more than one occasion, caregivers have dug in to issues of appropriate and inappropriate sexual behavior in care facilities. In a support group, caregivers may find an environment where they can talk about impending death, even anticipating relief when it comes. Often, caregivers will agonize over the decision to place their loved one in a care facility, then have additional agony with second thoughts and regret after the decision has been made, even though the decision will be described as “the right thing to do.”

Support group procedures

I believe the best way to create a caregiver support group is by invitation. Within any group of older people, it is likely that some will be serving as caregivers. Over time, that number will increase. (AARP provides good summaries of this trend at its website, aarp.org; the organization’s reports and resources are easily accessible by typing “caregiver” in the search field.) Posting announcements of a caregiver support group will attract a few people, but many people are reluctant to attend without a direct invitation.

Support groups function best when there are enough people present for good discussion but not so many as to restrict individual participation. My ideal numbers range from eight to 12 participants. I have worked with both larger and smaller groups that seemed effective, however.

Groups have a beginning and an end and can be announced as such. The open-ended entry and exit group can go on for years; facilitators need to be clear about what they are agreeing to do when they begin a group with no clear end. Ending a group and then resuming later with the same members can be effective. This can also serve to ease the transition of new members in and old members out if they choose to leave. I strongly encourage some kind of summary or ceremony when group members depart. Likewise, I urge groups that decide to end to develop a concluding summary and ceremony.

Caregiver groups, by the very nature of what brings people to the group, will morph into grief groups. In my experience, people generally wish to remain with their caregiver group rather than shift to a separate grief recovery group because of the close relationships they have formed and the comfort that comes from being with people who know their story. As group membership begins to reflect more people whose care receiver has died, it does make it more difficult for new members to join.

Volunteer versus paid facilitation is an issue for many counselors. My participation is as a volunteer. In my community, support groups exist that are tied to medical or service agencies in which the facilitator might be a paid employee. There might be instances in which insurance would cover the cost of an ongoing support group, but this is not as likely for an open-ended group as it is for a fixed-length program.

Counselors in private practice could offer support groups for which members would compensate the facilitator. Under those circumstances, members could enter the group in the same way they would enter counseling sessions — with a contractual understanding of the role of the counselor who is operating with a prescribed set of ethics and an appropriate license.

I believe it is important for group facilitators to have a person they can go to regularly to discuss issues that arise for them in the facilitation role. In the same way that we expect counselors to have clinical supervision, facilitators need to seek this support. I get this through occasional coffee sessions with a friend who is a clinician.

I urge counselors to find or to create support groups that make use of the facilitation skills that counselors possess. Caregivers in their communities will be the beneficiaries. The service meets a critical need, and the satisfaction that facilitators will experience is beyond measure.

 

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I’d like to thank Bob Lewis and all the other caregivers over the years who have taught me what I know about support groups. I appreciate the stories and feelings they have shared and for the support they have given each other in such meaningful ways.

 

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Brooke B. Collison is an emeritus professor of counselor education at Oregon State University. He is a fellow and a past president of the American Counseling Association. For the past several years, he has served as a facilitator for caregiver support groups as a volunteer activity in his retirement. Contact him at BBCollison@comcast.net.

 

 

Letters to the editor: ct@counseling.org

Knowledge Share articles are developed from sessions presented at American Counseling Association conferences.

 

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Opinions expressed and statements made in articles appearing on CT Online should not be assumed to represent the opinions of the editors or policies of the American Counseling Association.