Magical powers

I must admit that I am a Harry Potter fan. I diligently read all seven books - pre-ordered the books, but never resorted to queuing overnight to be the first ones to get my hands on the books. I watched all eight movies as well, and intend to get the entire movie series as part of my prized possessions.

I have always been intrigued by magic as a child. It is extremely fascinating to be able to magically transform objects, people, make things disappear, make them fly and so many other miraculous possibilities. I wished I had magical powers too. To use a little magic to help me with my work, to make me a better therapist, to give that extra special touch to take away my clients' emotional pain and hurt. Sigh... This only happens in storybooks and movies, not in real life.

Whenever I do not know what to do to help my clients, I secretly wish for a little help from a fairy godmother - yes, those childhood fairytale fantasies. I have high expectations of myself, just like the girls I work with. I try very hard with my cases, thinking of the best ways to engage my clients and to facilitate change. Thankfully, I get positive affirmations often and am assured that I am somewhat helpful and effective for my clients. Even when the sessions seem to go well, I may be hard on myself and wish that I could have done better, that I could have done more, that i should not have said certain things or that I was just not good enough as a counsellor.

I find it amusing when I think of myself this way - "not good enough", sounds just like the self-critic of the girls I work with. Perhaps this is my self-critic that I have to "battle" with from time to time as well. During my training in emotion-focused therapy, I dealt with my self-critic and learnt that I need more kindness and compassion towards myself. My clients need that too, more kindness and compassion towards themselves.

There was a case that I was rather distressed about because I wanted to be able to assist in some way but it became clear that I was not in the position to do so. I struggled with the sense of helplessness and many people around me felt helpless too. They could not help the client and they hoped that the counsellor would be able to help the client. You can imagine the tremendous pressure that I was under, to do something to help the client. In situations like these, I wish I had some wizardry powers, Harry Potter's wand or Hermione's fancy spells so that I can do something to make the emotional pain go away!

In actual fact, I do not think the people around have such expectations of me. They are my own, unreasonable expectations of my omnipotent ability, that I do not possess. After several consultations with other counsellors and psychiatrists about the case, I realised that I can only do this much to help my client with her problem. Whether she improves or not, it is really not within my control. I have done my best and the rest is up to her.

I am not the all-powerful. I am not omnipotent. I am only human. That's a good reminder for me. A very good reminder.

"Everyone has obstacles, and you're not going to have the right answer or do the right thing every single time." - Shannon Miller

The voice of an adolescent

When I was doing my counselling training in 2006, I was introduced to an interesting mode of therapy. Instead of the usual one-to-one sessions, we can work with a small group of clients in a group setting. The modality of this approach, known as group therapy, has its unique advantages and benefits, which cannot be achieved in individual therapy. Despite its usefulness, it is quite unheard of in this part of the world where I practice since our Asian clients tend to find it anxiety-provoking to share their innermost thoughts and feelings within a group setting. Actually, I feel that this is probably not very different from the hesitations and inhibitions of people from other countries and cultures as well. Generally, once a certain level of safety and trust is established within the group, the group will feel more comfortable about sharing and engaging each other.

I took the opportunity to propose setting up such groups among certain groups of girls in the school I work in. Since this was a new initiative, I was uncertain about its efficacy and whether the approach will be too strange or foreign for them. For a start, I did not call it a therapy group and I designed it to have a slightly more semi-structured approach, which I felt would be a better fit.

During the first session, a particular theme arose among the fifteen-year old girls within the group as they attempted to have a voice, to have their voice heard.

“Never be bullied into silence. Never allow yourself to be made a victim. Accept no one’s definition of your life; define yourself.”
– Harvey Fierstein

Initially, I wanted to use this quote to inspire the girls but I realised that it was extremely difficult for them to find their voice and how they would like to define themselves. I had apparently forgotten how difficult it was for me when I was that age. As they search out the meaning of their lives, to discover what they truly desire for themselves, they are bombarded by the voices of adults - through their parents, relatives, teachers, politicians, various other adults and even the media and numerous propaganda. I say bombarded because these voices are really loud, significant, distracting and possibly even jarring at times. The girls become confused and wonder if they can really be the person they choose to be. Do they have a choice? Do they have a say? Did I have a say when I was fifteen?

When I was fifteen, I was studying in one of the elite girls’ school. My parents expected no less than that. My sisters and I studied in different high schools - all among the top all-girls’ schools in the nation. My father wished for us to be doctors, lawyers, engineers or accountants. These were considered reputable professional careers, which will give us a comfortable income and a respectable social status. At that time, I thought that my father would be proud if I became a doctor but when I failed to obtain the subject combination which included biology, I decided to give up the idea of pursuing a medical career. I was not sure if the other approved options fit my aspirations. I was interested in people, in human psychology. I talked about it from time to time, never sounding too adamant nor insistent because I was not sure if my voice would be heard, whether my father would approve of the pursuit of such an interest.

One girl in the group lamented that her mother insisted that she has to be a lawyer. “I don't really mind becoming a lawyer, but I wish my mum did not bug me so much.”

“My parents are the same,” another girl added. “I want to be a dancer but my parents don't think I can make much money that way. Sigh... I may not be able to make much money but I think I will be much happier since I will be doing something which I truly love.”

As adults, we think we know better. We think we know what is best for these young ladies. Besides, we have a wider range of lived experiences so we are in a much better position to give sound advices (or so we think). We think that it is our responsibility as custodians of their lives, to guide them to a bright and promising future where they will be successful and well-accomplished individuals in society. We prefer to encourage our youth to stick to careers, which are tried-and-tested while the artistic, literary or humanistic professions are often frown upon - not because they are less glamorous but they do not guarantee a stable and secure career.

“This is for your own good,” my father’s favourite line to his three daughters. I resented that dreaded well-sung phrase that kept playing in my ears as an adolescent. I wondered if I would be doing something wrong if I did not appreciate my parents’ well-meaning intentions to guide me to the right path in life. I wondered if I would regret not listening to them if I chose something radically different. What would be really good for me? As a teenager looking at my father, he was a successful engineer who earned enough to provide the family with a comfortable home and lifestyle. Surely, he knew what was good for me, “for your own good”.

“Why can’t my mother listen to me?”

“Why don’t my parents understand that I don’t like numbers and Maths is just not my subject?”

“Can you talk to my parents?”

The girls were frustrated. They felt stuck. They wanted to make their own decisions about their future. Studying felt so meaningless because whatever they were taught will not be relevant to their future career. It did not make sense to memorise all the terms and the lengthy passages just to obtain the perfect GPA of 4.0. Why bother?

When I was in school, life seemed less complicated. We did not question as much. We just studied what we were told to study. Our goal was to obtain as many ‘A’s as we possibly can, to the best of our ability. Then, scramble to collect the paper certifications and qualifications that were deemed valuable and marketable. That was the norm then. I did the norm. I excelled (did well enough, I guess) in Mathematics and Sciences, enrolled into one of the top junior colleges, did the correct thing to major in engineering and of course, became the engineer that my father approved of. I earned myself a nickname then, coined by my sisters – The Accidental Engineer, or AE for short. Engineering never quite resonated with me.

When I decided to make the career switch to become a counsellor, my father was cross. He was extremely angry with me. But he never quite told me directly. It was the old-fashioned Chinese father’s way of communicating to his daughter – convey the anger to the mother and expect that the mother will advise the daughter accordingly.

“Tell Michelle that she is very stupid, to give up her engineering job and get a pay-cut as a counsellor!”

During dinners with relatives and friends, my sisters were always mentioned and talked about. You see, one of them is a qualified medical doctor and the other is pursuing her medical degree. Ah, doctors! The prestigious career option! Counsellor? How much do counsellors get paid? Was this daughter not smart enough to get into medical school?

I felt like the outcast, somewhat a disgrace to the family. I desired affirmation from my parents, which I could not get. I was in a difficult place and I felt very alone in this new endeavour. I yearned for their support and encouragement. I realised that my parents struggled too. On one hand, they wanted to see me happy doing what I enjoy. On the other hand, since it deviated from what they are familiar with, they were unsure if I would be risking too much by forgoing a stable career as an engineer.

My father no longer chides me for quitting my engineering job. My parents have come to terms with my decision. But from time to time, my father would still ask me, “When are you going to do your PhD?” That is my father.

Many parents unknowingly and unwittingly impose their hopes, wishes, dreams, desires and aspirations on their children. They want their children to tread on territories, which they have never been before and attain remarkable and spectacular achievements, which they failed to accomplish as a child. We think that by setting the bar as high as possible, we may be able to stretch them to their fullest potential and be exceptional in anything and everything.

How realistic are our expectations? How much of what we do as adults is really a tussle with our own anxieties? If the adolescent does not do well, we may be seen as a parent who has failed, a lousy teacher, an irresponsible adult who did not do what we should do or can do. We are afraid that our children will struggle to make ends meet or not have a good job if they faired poorly in school. We are worried that they will blame us for not giving them the right advice when they needed it. We fear that society will mock us for not doing our duty if we did not show our children the correct path to take in life.

At the end of the day, each of us is and can only be responsible for our own lives. By the time the child becomes an adolescent, she (also applicable to “he”) needs to develop the skills required as an adult to learn to make her own decisions and decide what she desires for herself and how she wants to live her life. We are here to support and encourage her in her journey of discovery and adventure of life. We are here to facilitate the process, to show her the options and the possibilities. Not to restrict her, nor to stifle her, nor to tell her what to do.

I am not suggesting that the adults let go completely. I am not suggesting that the adolescents defy and disregard everything that the adults say.

This is more like a dance, a tango of sorts.

We play our respective parts.

Then, we allow these youth the autonomy to be the architects and fashioners of their own desired future.

There is no absolute right or wrong in the journey of life because life is not static but a dynamic evolution of the choices and decisions we make. It is how we live our life, which makes it meaningful.