Co-Counseling Helps You Change Your Negative Beliefs

by Susan S.


We don’t see ourselves the way others see us.

We feel awkward. Inadequate. Unlovable. And we continually beat ourselves up, saying we should be funnier, smarter or nicer. If people criticize us or yell at us, we believe them. We analyze everything we say and do, and use it as evidence that we should feel bad about ourselves.

What if we had a way to begin to see ourselves as other people see us? What if we could start to challenge those negative beliefs?

As you begin co-counseling, you can gain insights about yourself by listening to others. You’ll hear your “client’s” negative beliefs about herself, but you as the outside observer will know them not to be true.

Your client might say, “no one likes me, and I’ll never have any friends.” You know that your client is actually a very loving, caring and funny person whom you enjoy talking to. As counselor, you’ll support your client’s need to be heard about these beliefs, while reassuring her that it isn’t the way you see her.

Meanwhile, the wheels may begin turning in your own mind. You might think, “If this wonderful person has such an untrue view of whether she is a worthy friend, maybe my own thoughts about being unlovable aren’t entirely accurate either?”

These negative thoughts can run very deep, especially if we were rejected or treated poorly by family, friends or spouses. When others we love or admire put us down, their words can leave a scar that never seems to heal, and we seldom pause to ask whether what they are saying is true.

At the same time, we have a tendency to blame ourselves if others treat us poorly. We use this as further evidence that we are bad people. We are conditioned by society that “it takes two to tango.” If we see someone yelling at another person, we find ourselves wondering what the recipient did to deserve it. But no one deserves this type of treatment, and we should not blame ourselves.

I first began to understand this when I heard a person talk about feeling unloved by his parents. As the outside observer, I know this person to be very deserving of a parent’s love. It dawned on me: How his parents treated him had absolutely nothing to do with his worth as a human being.

Once I had this realization, others followed. What I have thought about myself has never been true, and if others treat me poorly it doesn’t mean I deserve it or that I’m a bad person.

It’s not an easy or quick process to reconsider your deepest beliefs. But by hearing the disconnect between what others think about themselves and what you think about them, you can begin to see the truth about yourself.

The Fastest Path to Healing is a Two-Way Street

by Susan S.


Have you ever had a friend who never opened up to you about herself? She might have been a wonderful listener and might have been very supportive, but did you really feel close to her? Walking a one-way street is a lost and lonely path.

Co-counseling is the opposite. The premise of co-counseling is making sure to split time equally, to share the load and to become partners in life’s journey.

I didn't understand the map at first. When I began learning about co-counseling, I thought if one person were having a very tough time, then we shouldn't split time that night but instead should let one person take all the time. Clearly the person in the client role needed to talk more that day.

But what we were told about co-counseling is that the troubled person would actually benefit from being in the counselor role as well. In other words, healing doesn't only take place when it’s your turn to talk. It takes place the entire time.

When you switch roles, when you know that you have been a guide on another's path to healing, your scars fade, too. Besides just sharing in each other’s struggles, when you help someone, you feel good about yourself. It’s why people find volunteer work so rewarding. And each co-counseling session can bring that feeling. At the same time, you have someone volunteering to help you, too.

When I first experienced this, I couldn't believe how much better I felt while playing the counselor role. I felt a human connection that I've not had in traditional therapy or with friends who remained very private. I felt valued. I belonged. The two-way street took me exactly where I needed to go.

Co-Counseling Principles Can Help Repair Strained Relationships

by Susan S.

One technique of co-counseling is to let people know what you like about them or why you appreciate them. I can't ever remember hearing a therapist tell me that I was caring or generous, but at the Level One Training, I heard these phrases again and again from other attendees.

I wondered if this technique would be able to ease the hurt between my mother and me. She and I aren't close; we haven't been close in more than 15 years. And over the years, each additional hurt has added to the divide between us. Then my father's sudden death forced us to face each other. There was tension in every interaction, and each of us took away new hurts where none was intended. Before I left for the training, I told her, "Mom, you think I hate you, and I think you hate me, and I don't know where we go from here."

Now I am back, trying to fix more than a decade of problems with a 10-minute conversation. The self-doubt begins to creep in as I think about what I want to say.

I wait until we are alone. "Mom, I have some good things to tell you that might make you cry. Can you sit on the couch?" I pull up a chair.

"I'm getting nervous," she says. "What can be good that would make me cry?"

I sit across from her. I take her right hand in mine and place my other hand on top. Her small hand feels fragile.

"Mom," I say, "one of the things that is very difficult for me about Dad's death is that I never got a chance to tell him how much I appreciated him for what he did in my life. I don't want to miss that opportunity with you, and I want you to know how much what you did for me when I was a kid meant to me."

I look in her familiar brown eyes and share my list. She begins to cry, and squeezes my hands tight. I continue telling her my favorite childhood memories, the times I always cherished but never spoke of.

When I finish, she says, "I'm so glad you told me that. I never knew you felt that way. I always thought that I embarrassed you."

"You never embarrassed me, Mom. When you're a kid, you have to act cool with your friends, but I always thought you were an amazing mother."

I go on to tell her how real her hurt is for the loss of my father, and that it isn't fair that he's dead. She begins sobbing, but forces herself to stop like we've all been conditioned to do. "I'm sorry I'm crying," she says. "It's just ... "

"Mom, I really feel like crying, too. Crying actually is a really good way to heal. Would it be OK if we cried together?"

She nods, and I curl up on the couch next to her. She holds me, and we cry.

Why Is It So Hard To Cry?

by Susan S.

The memory still brings chills to my spine: A frazzled parent at the mall with a crying toddler yells at the child, "If you don't stop crying, I'm going to give you something to cry about!" But of course that only makes the crying louder and more desperate.

When did we as a society decide we need to live like Spock from "Star Trek?" Stoic, show no emotions. Paint a fake smile on your face no matter what's inside. If you feel, bury it with anti-depressants, alcohol, drugs, food, shopping ... anything to prevent you from discomfort.

Even our language conveys our opposition to crying. Children throw "tantrums" and have "crying fits." We tell boys to be "macho," to "be men," and might even falsely call them gay if they cry. Girls are told to "grow up," and women who show emotion are labeled as "hysterical" and "mentally ill."

Although I am quick to show tears, I find it difficult to allow myself to truly cry. When I cried as a child, my mother mocked me. "Oh, boo hoo hoo," she'd say sarcastically. "Boo hoo."

Mental health professionals didn't do much better. As a teenager, I shared something very painful with a psychiatrist, and I began crying. He stood up. "I can't talk to you if you're going to carry on like that," and he abruptly left the room. The session was over.

And these experiences don't even come close to what awaits victims of abuse and domestic violence for crying or showing emotion.

So it is a difficult process to learn emotions are not only allowed, but also are completely valid and deserve to be heard. We have a right to cry and find a safe space to do so. We have a right to grieve. We have a right to be angry. We have a right to feel and a right to heal. Let's reclaim it.

My First Co-Counseling Session After the Level One Training

by Susan S.


During the co-counseling workshop with Lundy Bancroft, I had the opportunity to schedule a telephone session with one of the participants. When I left the workshop, it was a great feeling to know that we'd be connecting a few days later, and could follow up and help each other. But it was also nerve-wracking to know that now I'd be on my own applying the counseling techniques that we had learned. Would I be able to do it? Would I say the wrong thing? Would I be able to tell her what was bothering me?

I needn't have worried. She patiently listened to my grief over the death of my father, but it was different than any conversation I've ever had with a friend. I wasn't interrupted. I wasn't given advice. I wasn't told to "get over it" or to "let him go." Instead, I was given validation and complete attention. My opinions and feelings mattered, and I was allowed and even encouraged to cry. It was more than I had even hoped for.

We hung up the phone to take a break between sessions, and I felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from my shoulders. The sadness wasn't gone, but it was now manageable -- and, more importantly, it was now shared. I wasn't alone. And she wasn't alone.

When I called her back, I let her know how much better I felt and how much I appreciated her for listening without judgment. "I feel better, too," she said. "And I really liked knowing that I'd get a call from you later." And we switched roles and I played counselor while she played the role of client. I listened carefully and also tried to show her that I heard her and understood. By the end of the call, we had each other laughing.

I couldn't be happier about the exchange, and I look forward to our next scheduled call. The experience was far more than a therapy session, and far more supportive than a talk with a friend. Co-counseling is therapy and companionship in one. And, as co-counseling teaches, how can true healing occur without both?