About fifteen years ago, an outstanding adjunct professor started class by passing out a worksheet. Three icons were vertically placed on the paper: a mouth, an eye, and a heart. She explained that what is said, seen, and felt in sessions is important. All three. Every session. This was part of getting settled at the beginning of class, and honestly, I kind of dismissed it. My preconception was that the spoken words held the utmost importance. I mean, come on. That’s what gets documented in my notes!
I think back to this moment and cringe. Such hubris on my end. This willing teacher showed up long before the student was ready. It would be many years before I truly understood the important connections between what is said, seen, and felt in session, in life, and how this emerges. Reflecting on my own family and moving with individuals into family therapy helped the lightbulbs go on for me.
Recently, I watched my nephews for a large part of the weekend. It was interesting how evenly matched they were, though different ages. They balanced each other out with the fun they had. They had their own inside humor and a way of fighting that was more like a dance than a fight. There was no clear winner…ever.
About six years ago, they were very little and at different developmental stages. I remember them playing a seemingly lopsided game where the older one would knock over the younger one as he crawled. This upending was met with intense laughter and a beckoning to be rolled over again. Without one word being spoken, the younger one knew he was safe in this game even though I, as the supervising adult, wasn’t sure. This connection between the two of them was forged through observations and feelings, years before they had matching functional language.
This past year, I have met with more than one set of siblings talking through a specific fight over and over again, feeling like they aren’t getting any resolution. With some time, a few questions on my end, and gentle coaching, the ice breaks, tension leaves the room, and the siblings are laughing and sitting close to one another. Talking wasn’t getting them anywhere. The words they were using to fight didn’t match what they’ve seen across a lifetime. Their verbiage ran counter to their deeply felt experiences. The conflict was the lie and they detected it time and again- across families. Their attachment to each other was the truth.
I have also watched siblings connect and be drawn close to one another as they talk through adverse experiences and try to support each other through their respective traumas. This is deep healing for at least one person involved, sometimes both. All made possible because a very caring sibling- one who can detect when we lie to ourselves or when we ignore what is felt- was part of the process of therapy.
The Body Keeps The Score is the title of a seminal book about trauma and a phrase often used in trauma work. The book knits together our conscious memories (those that can be put into words and become the stories that we tell ourselves) to our physical experiences (the ineffable). When you think about it, our siblings “keep the score” too. They are there to bear witness to life’s major transitions, tragedies, victories, and the mundane, before they can speak.
It’s the congruence of all three parts–what’s said, what’s seen, and what’s felt–that makes our siblings the ultimate lie detectors.
Yes, this kind of connection makes us vulnerable, can lead to explosive fighting and psychological warfare, but in the correct setting, there is tremendous potential for therapeutic growth, change, and peaceful loving connection. Conflicts become connection with a little help from a trusted professional. It is moving to go very deep as we sit beside a person who has been riding shotgun as we travel the roads of our lives.