Where the Magic Happens
Palestine, Psychotherapy, Narcissism, and Self-Esteem
The other day I attended a 9–5 seminar on trauma treatment at Toronto’s Centre for Training in Psychotherapy, followed by an introduction I gave for Hernán Zin’s devastating film, “Born in Gaza”, at the 6th Annual Toronto Mapuche Solidarity Film Festival.
After presenting some facts about the political and humanitarian situation in Gaza and the psychological impact on children, I then read out my recent piece in Mondoweiss about the passing of my grandmother.
When I was finished, I glanced up from the podium … only to be met with silence.
A thick, solemn silence, as if time stood still; all you could hear was the ambiance of the room.
Until it was finally broken by the sound of faint sobbing from several individuals in the audience.
I then noticed I was on the verge of tears myself.
Later that evening I took a moment to try and make sense of it.
I knew that the subject matter was heavy.
But I think what struck me the most was the degree of my own impact.
I had spent an entire day in the murky world of trauma, learning about it, learning to hold it, learning to work with it.
And then I rushed to the University of Toronto to talk about how 300,000 children in Gaza are in desperate need of psychosocial support, followed by telling a story about the “trauma of good-bye” and the death of my grandmother.
I have this image in my mind that I had taken all of that into me and then ran up behind that podium and threw up all over the audience.
And that’s okay…it seems to have worked…I think.
But it wasn’t preconceived. And it wasn’t the first time I move an audience, or stir people’s emotions.
It’s just the first time I pause and try to reflect on it, to derive meaning from it.
Because there is meaning. And there is something valuable about bringing that kind of material to therapy.
Because that’s where the magic happens.
When we grow our self-awareness in the presence of a therapist, it carries with us into the outside world – into our lives and in the presence of those we relate to and those we love. It carries an invitation, sometimes a pull, to slow things down and observe ourselves. And to discover – sometimes for the very first time – our impact on others.
But for the moment, I’m learning to be at home with the feeling that during the seminar and behind the podium, grief, loss, and sadness were my companions.
At least for now.
Tomorrow’s another day.
