my disclaimer

I read an interview with Bill Maher in the Boulder Weekly newspaper tonight. Truthfully, I have no idea who the guy is, but I'm a readaholic, and the paper was just sitting there, so I read it. It happens with the cereal box, too.

Anyway, I was fascinated by one of his responses:

We need more people who say things that make everybody else go, “Oh, my God, I can’t believe you said that!” Yeah, well, just think about it then. At least the idea is out there. We can reject it. We can say he’s wrong about certain things. But at least he’s saying The Things That You’re Not Supposed To Say. This is such an “Oh, my God, you can’t say that” kind of country, and if someone says one thing that makes you a little bit uncomfortable, they have to go away for all time. Well, that’s not really what this country was founded as. So, yes, I don’t agree with everything he says, but I’m glad there are people like that speaking out.

So here's my disclaimer: I think maybe I have a split personality.

One side of me really does try to be nice. She believes that if I want to be helpful, (which I do,) then I have to be kind. She guides me to present my ideas gently and respectfully -- as hypotheses, so as not to trigger defensiveness or resistance.

She encourages me to hold the space for people to generate their own solutions, rather than telling them what to do. She values tact and patience and restraint. And she tries very hard not to come across as too arrogant or too confident or too convinced of her own rightness.

She has lots of friends who are therapists, and she tries to learn from them. She keeps up on the latest therapeutic modalities -- reads the studies, implements the techniques. You probably don't see much of her here in this blog, although sometimes she will take over editing duties and soften things up a bit. She normally makes her appearance during private consultations.

If I drew a picture of her, she'd be wearing long and spotlessly white lace gloves, a dainty hat with a big brim for maximum shade, and sipping a tall cool glass of lemonade. She sort of looks like the stereotypical Southern Belle.

But then there's my other personality, which seems to usually win out in the end. She's the one who blurts out unsolicited advice, imposes her perspective and interpretation on you, and is pretty darn confident that her insight is accurate.

She's dressed in a power suit, and she's on a mission. No lounging around with lemonade for her - she's got work to do. Deliver the advice and move on. Let people figure out what to do with it on their own time.

What I kind of like about her is that she trusts you a lot. She figures you will take what resonates with you, and leave the rest, so she doesn't baby you at all. She sees you as an equal, and respects your right to disagree. In fact, she kind of hopes you will, because she loves a good juicy contentious conversation.

And she won't tiptoe around you. She doesn't think she needs to, because she sees you as capable of exercising your own discernment. She's like the person Bill Maher was talking about who says The Things That You’re Not Supposed To Say.

Oh, and what's really funny about her is that she coaches probation officers in a technique called Motivational Interviewing, which is all about not imposing your opinions! She gets rave reviews from her coachees. But don't ask her to live what she teaches, okay? She's quite comfortable with her ability to teach directly rather than by example. She carries no judgment that she should be a master herself before she can work with others. (And that's another thing I like about her! She's relatively unencumbered by 'shoulds.')

My personalities are like Forrest Gump's box of chocolates -- you never know what you're gonna get. So if you are feeling fragile, craving kindness, or need to be empowered from the outside, you are sort of gambling with me. If you don't feel like risking it, I can refer you to some consistently empathetic and therapeutically gifted colleagues.

But if you are okay with being told what to do by a self-appointed know-it-all, you have come to the right place! And you can't say I didn't warn you.