Mid-January our community of alumni and students of Year Four and Five hosted the co-editor of the texts that inspired the paradigm shift to contemporary Gestalt.  Poet, phenomenologist, creator of the language that speaks of what we do to the body and the heart, Gianni led a seminar on Panic Attacks and a seminar on the mystery of therapist self-inclusion.  The students’ reflections papers from the weekend were letters of gratitude to Gestalt, to the manner of this master teacher, and to their own inclusion in the work.  That is why I have asked two of the students – one from Year 4 and one from Year 5 – for permission to excerpt their papers, to share with you firsthand their lived experience.

 

A Considered Response To The Use of Self-Disclosure From A Field Perspective  (From A Weekend With Gianni Francesetti)

Samara Liu’s Reflection Paper – Year 4

 

“There’s something happening here

But what it is ain’t exactly clear

There’s a CLIENT with SOME ANGER over there

Telling me I got to beware

I think it’s time we “PAUSE

THERAPIST”, what’s that sound?

NOTICE MY BODY – what’s going down?*

(with apologies to Buffalo Springfield)

 

Everything that comes up for the therapist is relevant…but when do we share it with our clients? And from what ground do we self-disclose? These are the questions that stayed with me throughout the weekend with psychologist, psychiatrist, and Gestalt therapist Gianni Francesetti. Throughout our time together I was brought back to remembering what “relational” actually means in Gestalt Therapy. Humans are used

to thinking ‘I am separated from you’, when really it’s more like “What I feel is not only mine”. That is the relational aspect we speak of in Gestalt Therapy. In other words, if it’s coming up for me, it’s because of you. Gianni’s beautiful expression of this notion was powerful for me as it re-connected me to my group – something I had not felt in some time and had almost given up on. It also brought me much closer to one classmate in particular….

 

Gianni was staying with the “First Wave”. As he explained it to the class, the first wave is our immediate reaction and first thoughts that come up with the person in front of us – our client. It’s the arising energy that comes up via our senses. He called it “our silent cat-like feeling”. It’s the phenomenological field . It’s also the place of referred trauma. It’s the place that’s the riskiest if we as therapists decide to make a move from there. Instead, we let the first wave happen. I imagined myself in an actual wave, that first hit of water, the shock, and then the need to find myself and stay with it, give way to it. After that is the “Second Wave” – and perhaps this time I am ready. I’m a little more prepared – so now I’ve given myself a chance – a chance to not drown!

 

In the therapeutic encounter this becomes the equivalent of the therapists’ awareness of self with the client. Here is where I can ask “What’s this reaction doing to me??”.  Here in the second wave is where we can get curious about the form of contact our client is making. “The more you feel the discomfort the more you are intercepting something neglected in the field”, Gianni said. And here maybe is where an intervention can be

made (the door for change).

 

After thei session something shifted (with my classmate). – we saw each other at that moment in a new way. I felt a lot of gratitude that weekend for our group and Gianni’s guidance – and for Gestalt teachings again showing me not only a way to be with a client in a treatment room but a way of being a human in the world.

 

Gianni Francesetti – Panic Attacks

Dave Puzak’s Reflection Paper  Year 5

 

I had been awaiting Gianni’s workshop with much excitement because I was already familiar with his work from previous research I had done. Being interested in phenomenology and its place in psychotherapy, I had come across Gianni’s work a number of times while enrolled in my previous degree studies. For me, this was a rare opportunity to “meet the maker” of someone who dedicated much of their academic life attempting to understand something that is very near to the heart of my experience — anxiety and panic.

 

When I arrived in the meeting room, Gianni was sitting in a chair at the front of the room looking relaxed. He was dressed in blue denim, with a brown leather belt with his button up shirt tucked in. His frameless glasses and goatee immediately gave me intimations of Freud and even Lenin. My first sense-feeling of him was that he was soft hearted and approachable — not imposing or authoritarian. He also had a pair of crutches beside him.

 

He invited everyone in the room to introduce themselves — if they felt comfortable to. The call behind this request was that he said he felt more welcome in a room if he felt connected with the people in it. He wanted to make sense to the field he was feeling — he wanted to feel and know us. It took me quite some time to decide if I wanted to introduce myself. I was very surprised actually because I felt a lot of excitement in my body about where we would go that day.  My mind was racing, my heart was beating a bit faster, my palms were moist — I felt a bit ungrounded. I was r

retroflecting. I didn’t want to be disappointed. I felt a bit too excited. I was repressing the fact that I was acting like a fanboy. I can’t actually recall what I had said when I introduced myself.

 

My moments of physical grounding came later while Gianni was introducing some of the concepts in his book about anxiety. I was very much in my head the first part of the day. How could I not be? We were talking about phenomenology! The energy in the room was reminiscent to that of when guys who love classic cars like Mustangs get together and talk about the hot rods they are currently molding in their shops. Gianni began distinguishing between the neural systems of fear and panic. In fear, we are presented with a stimulus that represents danger (i.e. a snake) and it engages our sympathetic nervous system for fight or flight. This is a more or less simple circuit. However, in the panic system the stimulus isn’t as straightforward as a fearful object — it is one of separation. Panic is the result of being separated from our home, loving arms, or the familiar — and when we call out — we are not met with an answer. This hit me hard.

Gianni said panic is “an acute attack of loneliness”. Those words sunk straight into my stomach. They traveled straight towards that hard, untouchable, dark, cold pit of despair in my core. To the place I thought no one could ever see. …

 

I never associated my panic attacks with loneliness or separation. But these words bridged the gap between what I had always felt and what was true. The panic attacks would leave me feeling ungrounded for what seemed like weeks. I began to fear having them. Not long after my dad left, I had to move out into the world on my own to university. This further increased my sense of isolation. I did not feel and was not in touch with that loneliness during that period. But that’s what the panic attacks were — my body creating emergencies to try to get me to listen to what was really happening.  I shared some of these insights with Gianni on one of the breaks. It felt reassuring that he didn’t seem surprised. I felt heard. I couldn’t find the support I needed back in my early 20’s because I wasn’t understanding what my body was trying to say to me. I just tried to avoid it. I still try to avoid it….

 

As I write this, I remind myself to look around — to look away from the computer screen. To notice the sun setting outside the window beside me. To notice the voices on the street. To hear my roommate make dinner in the kitchen. To put some music on and remind myself that silence can be a trigger.

 

I think back to my moments of retroflection at the beginning of the workshop and wonder if some part of me knew that my excitement could possibly turn into anxiety? Who knows…But I sensed potential.