Walk Like a Therapist, Talk Like a Therapist

Today's musing comes to you with an earworm, which happens to be the official term for a song that burrows into your ear and won't get out. Click the link if you dare: Walk Like a Man

As I prepare for my final semester as a music therapy student, I frequently catch myself saying and doing things that a therapist would say and do.

I cringed when I saw an alcohol ad sporting "TGI Tuesday!" because I instantly empathized with the clients I saw in practicum who were in rehab for substance abuse.

I cringe for all the ads and other examples in pop culture proudly displaying a less-than-healthy relationship with alcohol and other substances because I know how hard many of these and other clients will work to overcome their less-than-healthy relationships with their drugs of choice. I find myself wishing the rest of the world could be as sensitive to their struggles as a therapist is.

I found myself carefully assessing the family dog's state-specific anxiety and ended up sleeping on the couch with him to help him get settled while I dog-sat for my parents this summer. Then I caught myself using the iso principle to gradually wean him from needing me right next to him all the time.

Michael Westen of Burn Notice wishes everyone got Green Beret training in high school. I wish everyone had some training in verbal counseling skills and active listening.

I cringe when I hear a well-meaning but unhelpful grief platitude being sent rapid-fire at someone who is recently bereaved, and I have to stop myself from sharing the good news about Person-First Language a little too vigorously so as not to offend.

These behaviors weren't a regular part of my life four years ago.

Undertaking the degree program to become a music therapist has, I hope, made me a more careful observer and a better listener. I think it's made me think more carefully about what I say to others. It has taught me to walk the delicate line between sympathy and empathy. It's definitely taught me that sometimes the best thing I can do for those around me is to go for a run or soak in a bubble bath.

Slowly but surely, I think I am becoming a therapist!

Have you noticed these kinds of changes in yourself as you progressed from green student to professional MT-BC? I would love to hear how you walk the walk and talk the talk!

Sticks and Stones: Breaking the "Handicapped" Association

As small children, before we learn basic language skills, we learn to identify certain words with pictures and logos. Many of us can identify the McDonald's logo before we can print our first names. Some of us saw the "Coca-Cola" or "Sprite" logos and associated them with a general word like "soda" or "pop." All in all, these word-picture associations are powerful and deeply rooted in our earliest memories.

And that's usually not a huge problem. Quickly associating information with a basic picture is an important skill to help us navigate our world on a daily basis. The issue appears when we have made an association that can be harmful to others.

As a child, I learned that the white individual in a wheelchair on a blue field meant "handicapped." For years, I never questioned that association. It was everywhere - handicapped parking, the handicapped entrance, handicapped license plates.

It wasn't until I came to college as a music therapy major that I learned about Person-First Language and how important it is to speak about people first and their characteristics second. (For an excellent overview of PFL please see http://www.disabilityisnatural.com/images/PDF/pfl-sh09.pdf.)

Obviously, as soon as I learned about the importance of speaking about people first and disabilities second,  I made a resolve to eliminate the word "handicapped" from my vocabulary and make an effort to educate those around me. The problem for me comes from the blue and white wheelchair logo. It is so deeply engrained in my memory with the word "handicapped" that every time I see a license plate in traffic with that logo, my brain automatically retrieves that word. Each time this happens, I practice retraining myself to think or say aloud, "That symbol simply refers to an individual with a disability, not a disabled or handicapped person. They are a person first and foremost."

Who knows how long it will take me to break this automatic association formed in childhood? The point is, I am going to keep trying until I accomplish it, because as a future therapist, I choose to speak, think, and act respectfully towards individuals with disabilities.