The clock-watching therapist

large old-fashioned orange alarm clock being held with outstretched arms above the white person’s head

Photo courtesy of Malvestida

Being a psychotherapist is the best job in the world – in my humble opinion. But even the best jobs have their drawbacks, one of which is that it can often kill the enjoyment of drama (TV, films, plays, and so on), because of the way psychotherapy and psychotherapists are portrayed. The latest example of this for me is the new Nicola Walker crime series, Annika. Series one was originally screened on Alibi but now getting an airing on BBC One and BBC iPlayer (https://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episodes/p0fjh17b/annika). Annika is now on its second series, but I am a bit behind, having just finished series one. If you are yet to watch, I don’t want to give away any big plot spoilers, so I’ll be careful!

Annika’s teenage daughter, Morgan, is struggling with the fact her mother’s new job has led to a move to an area she doesn’t know. She opts to have psychotherapy to help her make this transition. In one scene, she is telling her mother, Annika, about the therapy and how she felt annoyed when she noticed the therapist looking at the clock. Mother and daughter seemed to agree that this was a ‘bad thing’ and that a new therapist needed to be found.

It’s the theme of clock-watching by therapists that I want to explore. This scene triggered a big tut and eye-roll moment for me as I squirmed with frustration on my sofa. I find it irresponsible that drama writers, keen to entertain, show counselling and psychotherapy in a cliched way because it is more entertaining. So, I want to offset any sense that we therapists clock-watch because we are just interested in when the session will end and offer an explanation as to why we glance at the clock from time to time.

Psychotherapy and counselling sessions are generally a specific length (although there are some exceptions, such as in Lacanian therapy). My sessions are 50 minutes long, which tends to be the norm for therapy with individuals. Keeping to the boundary of that time limit is important, partly for me (so I can manage my schedule and be available physically and emotionally for my next responsibility) but mainly for the client. Many people come to therapy because important people in their lives have not been able to respect or maintain healthy boundaries (an obvious example is sexual abuse but there are a myriad of other boundary violations that can have a cumulative and significant effect on us, especially in our early years). So it is vital that I demonstrate consistent and appropriate boundaries, including that I start and end sessions on time.  Which, of course, involves checking the time. Towards the end of a session, I tend to be explicit about this, saying something like, “I just want to check the time - we’ve got X minutes left.”

Person or colour holding an hourglass in their fingertips with black sand beginning to trickle from the top to the bottom

Photo courtesy of Denilo

Time management is also important during a session. I need to ensure my client is in a fit state to leave a session and return to their normal life, be that to travel safely from the venue of an in-person session or to get back to work or other commitments after they log off from a video/phone session. Therapy sometimes, perhaps more than sometimes, involves connecting to pain and suffering, and/or a sense of vulnerability. This can leave a person emotionally and physically wobbly which takes time to move out of. It’s incumbent on me to have a sense of the time available in a session, either to help my clients reconnect to their grounded, adult, functioning selves before they leave the session, or to check if there is enough time to give this important material the space it needs and deserves. In this latter case, I might say something like, “I can see we only have 12 minutes left of the session and that this area feels like something that needs more time than that. What would you like to do?”. They then may pause to reflect on how they want to use the remaining time optimally or carry on regardless. Either is fine - it’s their session.

Finally, I wanted to share how I might respond if I notice that my client has clocked my clock-watching, especially if I can see that it causes distress or, in the case of Annika’s daughter, frustration. I’d probably say something like, “I think you noticed me checking the time – I wonder how that felt for you?”. Opening up a conversation like this can give me a chance to explain some of what I’ve outlined above, but it also gives us an opportunity to explore how it feels to be my client. To take Annika’s daughter as an example, my sense is that she saw her therapist checking the time as an expression of boredom or frustration with her, perhaps of wanting to be free of her so she could get on with something ‘more interesting’ or ‘more important’. That would certainly fit with the way the mother/daughter relationship is portrayed in the series, especially as we know that Annika - a single parent - has struggled with the tension of wanting to be both a good mother and a good detective, a job that she loves but which can be demanding, unpredictable and pull her focus from other important responsibilities, such as being a parent.

So there you have it - the main reasons why you might spot your therapist glancing at their clock from time to time. We’re most likely not bored (far from it!) but are managing the time to offer the client the therapy they need.

Fear, loss and bog rolls – life has changed beyond belief and it’s not possible to take that in.

Remember what you were doing a week or two ago? It probably involved being conscious of the Coronavirus in some way – perhaps a faint awareness in the back of your mind, or perhaps a deeper anxiety gnawing away in the pit of your stomach.  But most of us were going about our daily lives, blissfully unaware of the seismic changes that were about to rock our world.  And those changes haven’t yet reached their peak. 

This, and the blogs to follow, is a place to share my psychotherapist take in the impact of these changes on our mind-set, how we see the world and our place in it.  I have a vague idea of what I want to cover, but it is likely to shift and develop in tandem with the new situations we find ourselves in.  I am writing from London in the UK, from a situation of relative security.  My home is secure, my family well (thankfully, but who knows for how long) but my job uncertain, although not so uncertain that I fear I won’t have a roof over my head or be able to put food on my table.  As for toilet rolls, well, that’s another matter!  We have four individual rolls tucked away in the bathroom cabinet, which should be enough for a week or two.  After that, who knows? I may use the blog to politely request donations of said bog roll.  Watch this space.  For information, I am happy with your bog standard (sorry!) loo roll – I can live without the plush kind but would prefer to avoid the greaseproof paper version.

This Coronavirus is a new, virulent critter – it’s contagiousness and risks seem to outdo other viruses and illnesses we have come to know over our lifetimes (OK, I know many of you might justifiably say, “What about HIV and AIDS, TB, small pox?” – fair point.  But if memory/knowledge serves me right, their threat was not so sudden).  What is more contagious is fear and anxiety.  Just the words are enough to push us into a heightened state of awareness, albeit perhaps outside of our conscious awareness, and this is very infectious.  Some may have a stronger response to the words than others, perhaps because of their past experiences, but these responses are innate and part of our human survival strategy.  It’s like the wildebeest’s (or any other animal that finds itself at risk of becoming food for bigger prey) instinct to scan the horizon for lions or other threats.  Just being with someone who is anxious for a few moments will trigger our anxiety – you can’t help that and neither would you want to, because without that transmission of fear within the herd (wildebeests, humans – take your pick) we are much more likely to become history very quickly.  I want to talk more about this in one blog; a blog that may refer in more detail to the aforementioned toilet rolls.

We have also had to get our heads around the end of the life many of us have been privileged to have always known – the freedom to go wherever we want, whenever we want to.  This has been a change of indescribable speed which has taken the vast majority by surprise.  It feels like a rollercoaster of changes – and as someone not keen on fairground rides, it’s not been a thrill a minute! When we face such a loss, especially a sudden one like this, we grieve.  That’s the natural and normal response.  I will share my reflections on that too.

But understanding our emotional responses to this pandemic is one thing – how can we use this awareness for our own good and for the good of others (and I include people who are panic buying the loo rolls here)?  Cue another blog post.

It may take longer than I hope to get these to you all – I still need to see my clients and get used to my new life and its shifting responsibilities – but given the situation, I think there is plenty of time to get my thoughts on paper.  Stay tuned!