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The Ocean of Emotions

Have you ever been to the ocean? If not, you should go – at least once in your life. I am a little biased. I grew up in Rhode Island, better known as the Ocean State. I cannot help but appreciate the beauty and raw power of the ocean and I think it’s a great metaphor for emotional experience. Emotions are messy, fluid, and difficult to contain. Sometimes we can feel overwhelmed, like we’re drowning, struggling to keep a head above water. They can be exhilarating and equally terrifying. [Yes, I am using emotional terms to describe emotional experiences because we often have feelings about our feelings!] I use this metaphor a lot in my therapy sessions. So much so, that a former patient gave me a “Lifeguard on Duty” sign.

When I was a kid, I used to love swimming with my grandfather. He would take us to the beach and there would be that special moment when he stood up from his chair and you knew he was going in, and you wanted to go in with him. All the grandkids scrambled after him into the waves.  Rhode Island beaches are hardly tropical and calm. The northeast Atlantic is cold and a bit rough around the edges (much like the people). Big waves crash on a rocky coast bringing in seaweed and stirring up pebbles. It is kind of turbulent where the water meets the shore. You have to put up with a lot to get to the good part. I have so many memories of squeamishly wading through rough, shockingly cold water, stepping on jagged shells, and having my ankles tangled in slimy seaweed. But once you get past the shoreline, the sand softens, the waves turn into swells, the water is clear, and by this point you’ve gotten used to the cold temperatures. My grandfather taught us how to float. He would lay back as if sitting in a lazy boy recliner, put his arms out to the side, and cross his ankles at the water’s surface. In this position, on a clear sunny day, you could just float over the ocean swells and enjoy its movement.

Getting in contact with your emotions can be a similar experience. In order to feel your feelings, you have to tolerate a bit of discomfort. This is known as “distress tolerance.” If you do not have a lot of distress tolerance, it means that you might judge those waves crashing on the shore as more harmful than they really are. If your distress tolerance is too high, you might go swimming in dangerous conditions! Lifeguards assess the conditions and let you know if it’s safe to swim. There are times when it is not appropriate to go in the water, and that’s okay! During stressful times in life, it may not be safe to open ourselves up to intense emotions if they would be destabilizing. There are other times when it would be great to go for a swim, but you just don’t want to get wet. External and internal conditions can cue us as to whether it is a good time to allow ourselves to feel our feelings. Becoming attuned to our physical bodies and more aware of our emotions gives us the ability to decide how we will act based on our feelings. This gives us the choice to stay on the blanket, go in the water, or just stay home!

So, I want to invite you to explore your relationship to the ocean. How would you describe the conditions of your emotional life? Is it stormy? Calm? What does a day at the beach look like for you? Using this metaphor can help bring understanding to how you relate to your emotions with the goal of learning to swim safely in these waters. Maybe you stay on the shore and watch the water from a distance, maybe you dive in headfirst and get overwhelmed. The goal is to develop a relationship with your emotions that is neither too distant, that you never swim, nor too overwhelmed, that you immediately feel like you’re drowning, but you are able to endure the discomfort of the crashing waves just long enough to move past them and enjoy the water.

Meet Maggie Hernon, MA, LPC

Tell us about yourself.

I grew up in Steubenville, Ohio in a large Catholic family. I love my hometown and growing up in a Catholic community was very formative to who I am today. My big family is only getting bigger, and I now have five nieces and three nephews. I have always had a love for learning and for people, and it didn’t take long for me to decide where I wanted to go to college or what I wanted to study. I attended Franciscan University and earned my bachelors degree in both psychology and philosophy. Throughout college, I worked a variety of jobs including as a piano teacher, a personal assistant, a bookstore clerk, a babysitter, a house cleaner, an evangelization assistant, a contract manager, and a few others I have since forgotten. Among the jobs I have worked, my favorite by far was my work with children with autism and behavioral disorders. I spent two years training and providing behavioral therapy to children of various ages. I found great fulfillment in seeing positive change in those I worked with and, I grew my love for the field of psychotherapy. I completed my masters in Clinical Mental Health Counseling at Franciscan University and fulfilled my clinical training requirements through a community mental health practice. There, I found my true love for counseling and deepened my appreciation for the complexity and resilience of the human person.

What inspired you to become a Therapist?

Through what I am sure is grace, I have been certain that I wanted to be a counselor from an early age, and this certainty has never wavered. Around eighth grade, I decided that I wanted to pursue a career in mental health. I often found myself in situations where others would turn to me for advice or support, and this role felt very natural to me. However, I knew that I lacked the skills to help people the way I wanted to. I was determined to learn more so that I could better serve the need that I saw all around me for compassionate, dedicated, and skillful listeners. I was motivated both by a desire to help others and a passion for knowledge. This pushed me to continue my education and to pursue my masters in counseling and ultimately brought me here to Ruah Woods.

How does your faith as a Catholic influence you as a Therapist?

It is clear to me that my career as a counselor is part of my path to heaven. I believe that I am learning a particular way to imitate Christ through this work. Because of this, I take my work very seriously and aim to improve my ability to serve others at every opportunity provided for me. My Catholic faith informs me and grounds my perspective of the human person, suffering, and healing. Perhaps most importantly, my faith supplies something that I think is vital in this line of work—persistent and enduring hope.

How do you describe your approach to therapy? 

My approach is grounded in my belief that relationships and conversations are the greatest vessels of healing. Because of this, developing and deepening relationships with my patients is my first priority. Through this relationship, I aim to provide a sense of safety for patients to explore what they need to achieve wellness. I assist clients in forming goals and making small steps that lead to positive and lasting change. I seek to help clients understand themselves and others better through a proper integration of their thoughts, emotions, and behaviors. In order to do this, I draw from approaches such as Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, Motivational Interviewing, mindfulness techniques, and Solution Focused Therapy. When working with parents and children, my goal is always to improve the parent-child relationship – the most important relationship in the life of a child. I draw from the techniques of Parent Child Interaction Therapy, play therapy and Behavior Therapy to better promote the child’s development.

What types of patients and difficulties do you work with?

I will work with a variety of patients, but I primarily see individuals (adolescents and adults) for counseling for issues related to depression, anxiety, bipolar disorders, adjustment issues, and trauma related issues. I also frequently work with parents and young children on various issues such as behavioral issues, emotional regulation, and other concerns.

What do you like to do for fun?

I enjoy hiking and going for walks. Because I just recently moved to Cincinnati, I am looking forward to finding new places to explore! I also love to cook and bake, and I am a classically trained pianist and absolutely love music.

To learn more or to make an appointment with Maggie, please call 513-407-8878.

A Psychological Interpretation of Genesis 2:24
by Dr. Emily Dowdell

“Therefore, a man leaves his father and his mother and cleaves to his wife, and they become one flesh.”

In Pope St. John Paul II’s Theology of the Body, he begins with Genesis. What better way to tell the story of what it means to be human then to start at the beginning. In the Creation account, it is revealed that man was not meant to be alone, and God created a suitable helper for him. The relationship between the man and the woman was designed to be one of mutuality and complementarity. There were significant differences, yet they existed in harmony and complemented one another.

One of the goals of Christian marriage is to rediscover that original unity between Adam and Eve, through sacrifice, self-gift, and a shared movement toward holiness. Yet often, couples find themselves feeling isolated and alone, experiencing solitude and even despair within their relationships. The idea of marital unity can seem so far off, like a distant dream, when the day-to-day interactions are grating.  In Love & Responsibility, Pope St. John Paul II (Karol Wojtyla) wrote:

True love, a love that is internally complete, is one in which we choose the person for the sake of the person, — that in which a man chooses a woman or a woman chooses a man not just as a sexual partner but as the person on whom to bestow the gift of his or her own life. It is put to the test most severely when the sensual and emotional reactions themselves grow weaker, and sexual values as such lose their effect. Nothing then remains except the value of the person, and the inner truth about the love of those concerned comes to light. If their love is a true gift of self, so that they belong, each to the other, it will not only survive but grow stronger and sink deeper roots.  Whereas if it was never more than a sort of synchronization of sensual and emotional experiences, it will lose its raison d’etre and the person involved will suddenly find themselves in a vacuum.

Ideally, when a man and woman enter a marital relationship, they are doing so freely and are able to make a full gift of themselves. Sometimes, however, this is not the case. As Pope St. John Paul II wrote in Theology of the Body, in order to give yourself, you must first have some sense of self-ownership.  

Some psychologists like to focus on “the unconscious” in their work and believe that the goal of individual therapy is to bring the things that are outside the person’s awareness into view. These are the therapists that like to ask, “so, tell me about your mother…” There is a sense that if we can become more aware of our true intentions, motivations, and desires, we can make more informed decisions and increase ownership of our choices. To uncover the truth about ourselves, we go back to the beginning, to our origin stories.

When we carry unresolved pain from our past in our unconscious, we can react to our current relationships and life events from a place of fear and self-protection without even realizing it. There is a defense system in place to keep negative past experiences from recurring. It is a very natural process. As a kid, you touched the stove and found out that it burns, and you will never touch it again… In our interactions with our parents as children, we were constantly using them as a sounding board, taking in and adapting to their feedback, and learning how to be. Our parents were not perfect people and sometimes their reactions were not the most reliable. In such cases, we developed beliefs and reactions that may have helped us navigate childhood, but do not generalize well into adulthood. The journey of self-mastery involves untangling the past from the present, recognizing when we’re reacting based on our history instead of the here-and-now. In order to be fully present to the person in front of me, I need to see the reactions that are coming from my own unmet needs or history and make a conscious choice to reorient myself to the person before me. It is a brave and difficult thing to explore some of the dark corners of your story, but once illuminated the fear no longer reigns.

So what does all this have to do with Genesis 2:24? My working theory is that most marital conflict is rooted in an inability to see past an original wound and truly orient to the other person. Maybe I’m reacting to something my spouse said and interpreting it through a lens colored by my past experience.  That coloration, while true to my experience, may affect my ability to see my spouse’s intentions clearly or interpret them accurately. I’ll give you a personal example. My dad was not around very much when I was young.  That generated an assumption in my mind that men are naturally selfish. For a longtime, I had no idea that I even had that assumption, never mind that I was using it to interpret the behavior of all the men in my life.  You can imagine how that filter might affect my interpretation, in moments when my husband would choose to do something for himself, instead of for our family. Thankfully, I’ve learned to identify when that thought-train is leaving the station and choose to reorient myself to my spouse ­– who by the way is incredibly devoted to family – and see that in the moments he’s choosing something for himself, it’s to replenish and rest, to make himself more available to us in the future. What a different reality! So, I like to think that to leave the father and mother and cleave to the spouse, can speak to that process of untangling the past from the present, ultimately restoring the freedom needed to fully commit to loving the person before me in the present moment.

Dr. Emily Dowdell, the Latest Therapist to Join the RWPS Team

We are excited to announce the addition of Dr. Emily Dowdell to the RWPS team.  She brings with her an exceptional training background, solid Catholic formation, and unique clinical experience.  Dr. Emily will be seeing patients at our main office on the West Side of Cincinnati.  She recently sat down with us to share a bit about herself. 

Q:  Can you tell us about yourself?

I’m Dr. Emily Dowdell. I’m originally from Rhode Island, born and raised Catholic.  I am currently married with three boys under four years old.  I earned a bachelor’s degree in multimedia communications with minors in film studies and theology from Franciscan University of Steubenville. After college, I returned to Rhode Island where I worked as a barista, rock climbing instructor, dog walker, trivia hostess, and freelance graphic designer while building my own wedding photography business. Just as my photography business took off and I had booked twenty-three weddings for the year, the Lord had other plans… He introduced me to the Institute for the Psychological Sciences at Divine Mercy University in Virginia. 

During my doctoral training in psychology, I worked in a variety of settings. My first experience was providing social skills training to youth and adults with severe autism in a community integration program. I then went on to work with adolescent girls, providing groups and individual treatment in a residential addiction program through Phoenix House. I spent a year focusing on diagnostics and assessments at the Psychiatric Institute of Washington, a private psychiatric hospital in D.C.

For my internship and postdoctoral years, I was a fellow at Riverview Psychiatric Center the primary state hospital for the state of Maine. While there I had the opportunity to work with both civil and forensically committed individuals with more extreme psychiatric conditions. I facilitated groups, provided individual therapy, and offered psychological testing.

I went on to work with the CatholicPsych Institute in their Rhode Island office providing individual therapy and mentorship. There I became the Director of Assessments, offering psychological testing for diocesan and religious discerners.

Q:  What inspired you to become a psychologist?

I was fortunate to participate in Franciscan University’s study abroad program in Austria. While staying in an old Carthusian Monastery, I had the opportunity to study philosophy and travel to many spiritual pilgrimage sites. I learned about Pope Saint John Paul II’s philosophy of the human person that inspired Theology of the Body and read Viktor Frankl’s book, Man’s Search for Meaning. Learning about the dignity of the human person as created in the image of God was huge for my own self-understanding in early adulthood. When I heard about the Institute for the Psychological Sciences at DMU and how their program is designed to integrate the science of psychology with a Catholic view of the human person, I was very intrigued. Finally, I had found an opportunity to learn how to help others learn about and cooperate with their innate dignity.

Q:  What does it mean to you to integrate the practice of psychology and the Catholic faith?

My faith informs everything I do and how I see the world. It’s important to acknowledge that every approach to psychology has philosophical roots and an understanding of what it means to be human at its core. The Catholic vision of the human person offers a more holistic foundation, incorporating the person’s mind, body, and spirit. I want to see and work with the whole person, so it gives me a more balanced perspective when one aspect of the person’s life is out of sync. When working with clients who are or have experienced significant pain and suffering, my faith provides meaning. It anchors the work and gives me the hope I need to continue moving forward. My faith provides me greater clarity, orients me, and gives me a framework to better understand my clients. I ultimately entrust the Lord with the care of my clients and pray that they are receiving what they need at this time to move forward, toward becoming who God made them to be. 

Q:  What types of patients and difficulties do you treat?

Over the course of my training and experience I have provided individual, group, family, and marital therapy. I am most in my element working with individuals (adolescent through older adulthood) as they navigate a variety of challenges including: depression, anxiety, grief and loss, adjustment related issues, post/peripartum disorders, relational issues, vocational and identity concerns, trauma-related disorders, substance use and other addiction, and personality disorders.

Q:  How would you describe your approach to therapy?

I approach therapy primarily from a relational perspective, meaning I focus on building a relationship with my clients. In terms of practice and conceptualization, I integrate different theories and tools from psychodynamic schools of thought (Nancy McWilliams, Lorna Benjamin, Peter Fonagy, Edward Teyber) and evidence-based treatments like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, Acceptance and Commitment Therapy, and Mindfulness. Regardless of the specifics, therapy always comes back to the individual. As we build our relationship, we will establish goals, and I will select the most relevant approach that suits the person and his or her individual needs.

Q:  What do you like to do for fun? 

For fun, I like to spend time with my three kids and husband. We enjoy spending time outdoors together and going on little adventures. I also enjoy knitting.

To learn more or to make an appointment with Dr. Emily, please call 513-407-8878.

Behind the Edifice and Under Construction
by Dr. Michael Murphy


Have you ever had that book that just keeps coming up in your life? Maybe someone suggests it, and then you see it at the bookstore, and then your favorite podcast brings it up again? Maybe the universe just wants you to read it? I doubt it though, since the universe is a cold, infinite void that can only “want” entropy and a slow decline towards absolute zero. In any case, that book for me was The Interior Castle by St. Teresa of Avila. Honestly, it was one of those times I am glad I procrastinated in acquiring it. Having finally gotten the book, there have been lots of times reading it when I just nod to myself and say, “Okay, I guess there are people in the world that experience things like this,” and then move on humbly. But there were many good teachings in that book, and I now know that I might have started with the easier book The Way of Perfection (plenty of irony there). Still, I wanted to share a few bits of what I have gained from reading The Interior Castle.

First of all, St. Teresa of Avila wrote the book specifically for one target audience: her fellow religious sisters of the monastery of which she was superior. Most of us are not that audience. But, being able to step in and listen to St. Teresa’s words gives one the chance to reflect on those faithful women. These are the kind of special people interceding on behalf of the rest of us “in the world” through their unique gift of self, and I feel very grateful for them. “Pretending” to be the recipient of St. Teresa’s words can also inspire us to imitate something of what she and her sisters did. Below are three considerations I have taken away from her urgings.

Life is about the protection and development of the soul. The entire book is dedicated to clarifying how the soul can take right paths to grow closer and closer to God, even if that sometimes means a person does nothing more than what is required of him by vocation. While she emphasized more than once that the body is to be cared for, the soul is what is most precious and is the dwelling place of God within the person. How often do we even think of our soul unless we are in mortal sin or peril? For these sisters, life seems like an early purgative state in which they journey towards God and, with their prayer, draw others up towards God too.

Can anything like this be a part of one’s worldly life outside a cloister? It made me think with more humility about the therapy work I do. To be sure, working to improve someone’s mental health means that their body and mind are better ordered, and so grace works more easily on it. However, am I working as diligently on my vocation such that my soul grows? St. Teresa wrote that mundane tasks done in obedience do much good for a soul, even if that person would rather be in contemplative prayer. How often do our own desires take precedence over legitimate duties or callings? Put another way, how often do we get caught up in earthly progress with little consideration to how that progress affects the soul?

Do not seek divine favors. Petitionary prayer is an important type of prayer. We do it every week at Mass. But what St. Teresa cautions her sisters about is the inordinate desire for spiritual favors sometimes received in prayer. Put another way, she tells them not to look for or hope that God will act with special grace in their souls or fill them with consolation. She approaches this point from several angles in The Interior Castle. For one, St. Theresa does not want us to be misled in prayer by the Devil and his agents who appear as impostors. Second, she indicates that divine favors are granted by God for His good reasons and for the benefit of the soul. She adds that divine favors are not granted due to merit and makes a point that many who are less holy and less worthy often receive special graces. Third, she emphasizes that if we are to grow in humility before God, then we ought to surrender to His plan rather than our preferences. We are not to be common workers (e.g., handmaids of the Lord) who think ourselves worthy of kingly treatment and deference. We are better off trusting that the Lord knows best how to bless us. Fourth, St. Teresa offers interesting advice about how we are to view the reception of divine favors in our life. On one hand, she encourages the person who receives them to be ever grateful and give glory to God. What is interesting is that she also encourages us to think little of the special graces we might receive in prayer. Put a different way, the grace received from God was His doing, for His purpose, and will fulfill its function without us having to do anything. We would do best not to become obsessed or preoccupied by it. St. Teresa seems to always usher her sisters back to a place of humility before God, and perhaps receiving special graces in prayer only increases the need for this.

Suffering is an honor and gift of which we are not worthy. St. Theresa has a way of writing that entices the reader to consider things that, from a popular perspective, do not make sense. The popular stance in this case being that suffering is bad, and we do not deserve to suffer. St. Theresa points out that suffering continues in a person’s life no matter how advanced they are in the spiritual life. She helps us find and grasp the conviction that progressing in prayer does not mean the end of suffering. But she goes further and challenges her sisters to develop a desire for “many crosses.” This already is a great challenge for many of us: to muster any desire at all to suffer for Jesus’ (or a fellow sinner’s) sake. But in my opinion, she sheds a greater light still on the subject when she declares that the more advanced a person becomes in prayer, the more they understand that suffering is a precious gift. She would encourage us to consider bearing suffering, ultimately, as a task in the salvation of our soul, the souls of others, and in glorifying God. To put it a different way, we are not worthy to be admonished (and thus redeemed) by suffering; God is loving us when He allows us to suffer. We are not worthy to suffer with Christ for the salvation of others. Thus, suffering, big and small, is a privilege.

It is a challenging but immensely edify teaching. Imagine understanding this teaching, believing it, and then being diagnosed with cancer. Such a person would know that this disease and its treatment will change his life forever. But more than that, he would feel grateful. If his humility is sufficient, he could see this disease as a gift he is unworthy to receive. He might also feel the more typical feelings someone has when they are diagnosed with a deadly disease, but, for some, these emotions might be transformed by faith, humility, and gratitude for the gift of suffering.

If you do not have a book that is haunting you, I would recommend The Interior Castle, especially if you would wish to learn from a mystical doctor of the Church. Many of us, myself included, have desired a speedy ascent in the spiritual life. While desiring to be closer to God is laudable, I came away from this book with a greater humility and trust in God’s gradual work in the soul. He may work great wonders or labor subtly over years. Regardless, The Interior Castle helps us know more about His work in our souls and our part in this process.

Our Thoughts About Feelings
by Dr. Michael Murphy

“Feelings? Yea, I try to ignore those as much as possible.”

“Feelings? You want some? I got way too many!”

“Emotions? I’m more of a rational person. I don’t give in to emotions.”

“What’s my gut reaction? I could tell you, but my reaction is wrong. I don’t trust it most of the time.”

I’ve observed all of these different reactions in therapy when discussing emotions. People have mixed sentiments about feelings, but, nonetheless, feelings we have. It’s strange how we can have an aspect of our being so essential to our survival and liveliness that we don’t fully understand. But, to be honest, I love emotions. And the ickier the better, really. Why? Because emotions don’t “just happen.” They aren’t nearly as random or fickle as they are stereotyped to be. I would argue that thoughts are much more vulnerable to sudden shifts and distortion, but I won’t digress into that.

I put the spotlight on emotions because I come from the perspective that psychological healing often involves emotional processing. Such processing involves becoming aware of one’s feelings, experiencing them with adequate fullness, remaining aware of them without becoming overwhelmed, relating those emotions to past experiences, and accepting the congruence between the emotions we feel and the circumstances from which they arise.

That’s a lot. Emotional processing in its entirety can be a complicated and halting task. And in our very busy lives we often don’t do it. It takes time and focus, and external demands may appear more urgent or important. However, with that being noted, I think our varying reactions to and lived experience of emotions also contribute to how often we sit quietly and prayerfully with our emotions. Indeed, one of the first steps to utilizing this method is getting better acquainted with how one relates with his or her emotions. Here are a few patterns of relating with emotions that I’ve noticed.

Some folks are unaware of their feelings. This very common experience can occur for a number of reasons and may not cause major problems. This is especially true when an individual has trusted others who offer them direct feedback and help them realize, for example, how sad or angry they appear. However, some individuals are not so much benignly unaware of their feelings as they are unwilling to experience them. Feeling can be rather unpleasant. You can probably relate to this – who wants to really feel how scared they are? Or how deeply sad they are? The emotion(s) we tend to resist feeling varies depending on the person. For example, many depressed individuals are aware of their sadness, and can even grow somewhat accustom to it, though they might be quite unaware of feeling angry. A narcissistic person may be aware and accustomed to feeling energized and self-confident, but may be somewhat blind to deeper feelings of inadequacy. It may go without saying, but it is difficult to process emotions that one isn’t aware of having, especially when such awareness means looking deeper into oneself or deeper into feelings that seem unacceptable. How to make it better? Ask yourself how willing you are to become aware of feelings that you really don’t want to have. Am I willing to go through the discomfort that emerging emotions could cause? In addition, consider seeking feedback from others about what emotions they regularly perceive in you. Work on fostering bravery and seek the support of others if becoming aware of an emotion that was previously veiled becomes overwhelming.

Some folks don’t have words for their feelings. This observation comes from a range of experiences with patients. On one end of the spectrum is the person who has never talked about feelings and struggles to find the words. On the other end is the person bearing traumatic experiences from the past. Speaking in general, emotional experiences are not stored with convenient word-labels in a person’s brain. This is especially true of sharp emotional experiences, and profoundly true of traumatic experiences. Some such memories are stored in a more “raw” form as bodily sensations. In order to apply words to emotional memories, they have to be evoked and felt to some degree. If a person can do so, they can reflect on the meaning of the feeling and try to apply a word that resonates with it. When an individual experiences his feelings and integrates them with words, understanding, logic, narrative, as well as any other relevant feelings, he will attain some healing of that pain, though the work may have only begun.

It is important to note that every human being acquires some painful emotional memories through the course of life. Emotional processing is likely to help such a person obtain healing and closure. However, traumatic memories are qualitatively different. Deliberately attempting to re-experience such memories without sufficient knowledge of trauma or without professional help is unwise and may do more harm than good. At times, such attempts may re-traumatize the person, which is counter-productive to the healing process. Traumatic experiences can include physical, emotional, or sexual abuse, car accidents, close encounters with death, abortion, as well as many other examples. How to make it better? First, understand that traumatic memories and related emotions are not to be trifled with. Seek professional help and the comfort of trusted loved ones if these emerge. Second, for emotions that are merely unpleasant, uncomfortable, or unwanted, sit quietly or prayerfully with them for a time. Allow yourself the space to feel them. Do not get in a hurry to move on (notice such feelings too if they arise. You may need to sit prayerfully with those as well). Then, attempt to give that feeling a word or label. It’s okay to think about your feelings (that is part of the point) once you are feeling them adequately. It is also okay to step back from strong feelings if you don’t feel you are ready to explore further.

Some folks get overwhelmed by their feelings. Here are a couple of concepts that often get confused or used interchangeably. Coping capacity is the general measure of how much stress and emotion a person can tolerate without getting overwhelmed. Coping capacity varies from person to person. However, no degree of coping capacity makes one completely immune to being overwhelmed at times by the circumstances of one’s life. Coping strategies (or coping methods) are distinct from one’s coping capacity – these strategies are what one does either consciously or unconsciously to address or react to stress and emotion. Coping strategies are not created equal (e.g. drinking alcohol to cover up unwanted feelings is less healthy than prayerfully journaling about unwanted feelings). Individuals get overwhelmed when their coping capacity is exceeded by stress and emotion. Being overwhelmed by feelings manifests differently depending on the person. Some show outward signs, start to cry, ask for help, and become less functional, while others appear stoic, begin to over-function, and use internal coping strategies to push unwanted emotions away. Therapy offers the chance to increase one’s coping capacity and learn healthier coping strategies.

Being overwhelmed by feelings is something we all have experienced, and being overwhelmed from time to time is just a part of life. But how frequently do we find ourselves in such a state, and when does it become problematic? Is feeling overwhelmed for 10 minutes, once a week normal? What if you have to admit feeling overwhelmed every day? These are very difficult questions to answer, but two scenarios seem to be dangerous in particular: being chronically overwhelmed (more than that individual can handle, over time) and being dramatically overwhelmed (so struck by the intensity of a situation that our emergency survival systems have to take over). We are capable of overcoming both, but both should be taken seriously. How to make it better? Do yourself the kindness Christ would by not ignoring either of the two dangerous situations when they apply to you. Consider seeking therapy, talking to your family doctor, or attending a support group for trauma.

Some folks feel numb. Emotional numbness is an experience often following intense and chronic emotional pain that isn’t (or can’t be) adequately addressed by the person’s current coping capacity. In most cases, numbness is a protective callous formed to protect a person from feeling more pain that he can’t escape or address. Unfortunately, while such a coping strategy can anesthetize someone to emotional pain, it also affects one’s ability to experience joy and other positive emotions. Some experience this numbness as highly unpleasant and life-deadening. Others experience numbness as a better alternative to the pain that caused it and may have mixed feelings about healing it.

How to make it better? Numbness can be a sign of significant pain or suffering in a person’s life and is generally a more extreme coping strategy. Bring compassionate understanding to the reality of numbness. Sometimes being cut off from certain feelings is something our psychology does to protect us. This helps us survive, albeit  temporarily. However, folks that experience ongoing numbness  should consider seeking professional help to address not only the numbness itself but also the pain that lies beneath.

Whatever the emotions we have, they are there to help us. That’s why I like the icky ones too. They are a chance to understand ourselves in a deeper way and to grow in our capacity to empathize and love others. When we grow to understand our anger, we can start to empathize with Christ as he flipped the tables of the money changers. When we grow to admit to and understand our bitterness towards those that hurt us, we can marvel at the mercy of Christ, dying on the cross for our sins. There is much truth and hope in emotions, especially when we bring those emotions to God and our loved ones and share them with vulnerability.

Untangling Things
by Dr. Michael Murphy

If Catholic and Christian therapists have one primary advantage over secular therapists, it has to be that we have the privilege of knowing that in order to be truly successful with our patients, we must form and reform our lives around spiritual dependency on God’s love. I know, anyway, that there’s no other way I could do it, and I’m certain that my two colleagues at RWPS would agree.

God’s help comes in a variety of forms and through a variety of channels. One special lady I lean on for assistance in therapeutic matters is Mary, Undoer of Knots. To me, Mary is always working behind the scenes (the wedding at Cana, yes?) to bring about God’s glory. Therapy is often about recognizing and disentangling our most recalcitrant psychological knots. The process in some ways is mysterious and requires movements of the heart that neither the therapist nor patient fully understands. To offer more clarity about what I mean, I want to elaborate on the analogy of knots as similar to psychological issues, and therapy as a way of addressing psychological knots. I also want to indicate the assistance Mary, Unoder of Knots procures for therapeutic growth, reordering, and healing.

Knots are complicated. Sure, sometimes you can just vigorously shake a cord free of its tangle, but many knots are not so easily undone. The particular issue that brings a person to therapy is often like this latter, difficult knot. In some ways this is just the way it is, as most problems a person encounters are solvable without the help of a therapist. Until this is not the case, therapy is often viewed as unnecessary. Many people find their problems are a good deal beyond manageable by the time they enter therapy, which naturally contributes to the complexity of the therapy as well.

The solution isn’t always obvious. Loosening restricting knots (physical and psychological) sometimes requires trial and error. A bit of pushing or pulling, on this part or another, results in bits of progress – or not. Progress instills hope and gives the therapist and patient a sense that they are working in the right area. Mary is able to step into this process in a way that can be illustrated in a very concrete manner: The therapist and patient only see the exterior of the knot (or salient features of the presenting psychological issue) – Mary can see the interior. She is thus especially suited to guide our therapeutic efforts; the more complicated the problems, the greater her insight!

Undoing a knot is a process. A lot of knots are left alone because they don’t cause that much of a problem. I think of a wad of cords behind a computer desk, or even a pair of shoes with knots perfectly calibrated for just the right fit. This is rightly normal. But some knots persist even while they disrupt and annoy us (and others). Dealing with these requires more time and effort than we are usually willing to give in the moment. We try to ignore them, and sometimes do so for a long time (even if others can’t help but notice them). But when it comes to finally straightening them out, it takes time and sometimes they are so tangled that the process is a veritable puzzle.

Analogously, unraveling long-standing behavior patterns, ingrained beliefs, and tightly-bound emotions is similar. Patient and therapist are finite in their abilities, no matter how clever or competent. Happily, the therapist and patient are not alone in the work, and so enters the mystery of God’s glory through Mary’s intercession. Our (divinely willed) finitude is bolstered and altogether made-up-for by the Lord’s sufficient graces. These graces come both within and without the therapy room proper, as there are no boundaries to God’s chosen dwelling places. It appears to me, from the changes I’ve seen in patients, that God is characteristically generous with these helping graces, which touch and affect our psychology in unforeseen ways.

Sometimes untangling things leads to a bigger mess (initially). Once the person has sat down and committed to the process, it sometimes becomes clear that there is a lot of work to do. Not only that, but what was in some ways confined to the small area of a knot is now spread out, taking up more space, becoming more noticeable by others and yourself. Psychologically speaking, unveiling things that have been balled-up, over-simplified, unaddressed, or consistently ignored can be stressful, unpleasant, and even quite painful and debilitating. This is the normal course of things for many presenting issues, and Mary can help obtain the appropriate graces to help a person endure. The mess doesn’t last.

Knots are a pain. Therapy is often a great relief to patients at first, and in general. However, real change often involves suffering. Therapist don’t like to see their patients suffer, but are obliged to allow them to wrestle with past rejection, deeply-rooted convictions of sinfulness, and other painful interior experiences in order to find healing. Many of these experiences are analogous to the interior parts of a knot – unseen, neglected, denied parts of the person that are never brought out into the light because they are wrapped up tight and obscured. Even as Mary guides the unveiling of these parts of us, God’s presence accompanies us, bringing meaning and healing to our pain.

My colleagues and I at RWPS strive to know the saving power of God. We have the great grace of knowing that the inevitable suffering that life will dole out has been shared by Christ (God himself). Therapy can sometimes be a microcosm of that reality, but it similarly, though not as essentially, is redemptive. Our constant prayer is that God’s saving grace is infused into our work. I would have little hope for my patients and their brave work in therapy otherwise.