It’s a few years old, from my first day of chemo during COVID, but the sentiment seemed appropriate for this post. Especially the “LFG” shirt. “Let’s f—-ing go!”
In just a few days, the second year of my PhD program begins.
I’m going into this academic year wiser, more protective of my health and well-being, and more focused on what is realistic and what is possible.
We start with days of orientation, during which we’ll meet and mentor the new first-years, re-introduce ourselves to the faculty, and give elevator speeches about our research interests a dozen times or more.
It’s all made me reflect on where I’ve come from and where I’m going.
Last year, eager and enthusiastic, I let myself get pulled into projects that were important to others but less valuable to my goals.
This year, I’m prioritizing overlap.
I’ll write course assignments that advance my future research interests.
I’ll use RA opportunities to gather skills for art therapy research.
I’ll overlay data collection on top of the work I am already doing in my practice.
Some might call it double-dipping. I call it multi-purpose, and it has always been one of my guiding principles.
I can really see how much I have learned in just one jam-packed year.
I’m not yet where I want to be eventually, but I can see clear progress.
I read articles differently and understand them more.
I have better questions.
I have new ideas for how to study art therapy, and those ideas are in line with the current state of scientific inquiry.
I even understand a good amount of stats.
I’ve made important professional connections and taken big risks.
Most importantly, I’ve gotten the same feedback over and over again.
🚀 I’m in the right place at the right time doing the right things.
🧑🏻🏫 At the beginning of each semester, before I ever speak a word, I welcome my students by writing a universal truth on the board.
It’s a lesson that took me a professional decade to learn — but it forever changed my relationship with evidence and practice.
I present it first thing, hoping the next generation will learn the lesson faster than I did.
RESEARCH IS AVERAGES. CLIENTS ARE INDIVIDUALS.
Therapists and counselors must know the science of their profession, but hold it lightly.
Even the strongest research recommendations may not apply to the person in front of you.
📊 If you were to choose a treatment that is 99% effective (and, by the way, there is no such thing), the person sitting in front of you might be from the 1%.
This summer, I heard a quote from Mary Richmond, a pioneer of the social work profession. In her classic book from 1917, Social Diagnosis, she beats me to the proverbial punch.
Over 100 years ago, Richmond wrote:
“In work with individuals, averages mean very little.”
I felt so seen.
It’s no secret that humans tend to oversimplify complicated things.
Therapy students bring expectations about research and beliefs about evidence from their previous classes.
With misguided (but well-meaning) encouragement from teachers and supervisors, they conflate RESEARCH and TRUTH (an error that no researcher in their right mind would make).
Instructors imply that “keeping up” with the research on therapy will empower new therapists to help every client and solve every problem.
This misplaced emphasis on evidence is just one piece of the perennial gap between research and practice.
🛋️ Bridging that gap is my professional passion.
If you’re still reading, HI! I’m a veteran art therapist and novice researcher. I’m “learning in public” — posting short essays as a way of connecting with like-minded folks and making hive magic.
I’m so eager to know what you were taught about research and practice, and what you have learned in the years since you were taught. Please let me know in the comments below. I respond to every idea!
👩🏻🏫 Although I have taught undergraduate “Introduction to Art Therapy” classes in the past, there was something special about creating a class that was open to undergraduates, graduate students, and even members of the community who were interested in learning about the field and whether they wanted to pursue art therapy graduate education.
🖌️ Because these classes all started in the same semester, we had several get-togethers where the students could meet and interact with the other disciplines. We thought they deserved to know that they were part of something big.
💟 The art therapy class filled to the brim with a huge waitlist.
🤐 There is a lot of momentum for CAT higher education right now in our state. I can’t share all the details yet, but it feels like the culmination of all my career dreams to bring art therapy classes back to the University of Utah.
Besides being a PhD student, I’m engaged in other efforts.
I run a full-time art therapy practice.
I teach art therapy and MSW courses.I supervise new therapists.
I’m active in my community.
I serve on committees.
I adore my partner and my young-adult children.
AND It seems like everywhere I go, I’m confronted with a CRISIS OF CURIOSITY.
🙈 An epidemic of certainty. 🙈 A shocking acceptance of what is. 🙈 Being at ease with what is already known or assumed.
Let me paraphrase something a long-term client told me.
🗣️ “The most important thing I’ve learned from therapy with you is curiosity. How to wonder about the world. How to wonder about others. How to be curious about myself, my life, and my experiences. Everything good I have gained from this therapy has come from curiosity.”
A slight uptick in curiosity could change so much about the world.
🔎 Curiosity drives us to explore and innovate. 🔎 Curiosity invites non-judgmental observation of our own lives. 🔎 Curiosity connects us to others. 🔎 Curiosity invites humility. 🔎 Curiosity opens doors and creates possibilities. 🔎 Curiosity is one of the IFS “8 C’s of the Self.” 🔎 Curiosity neutralizes judgment and increases compassion for ourselves and others.
In my role of creatively supporting people in making meaningful change, I intentionally cultivate curiosity in my clients.
🤨 Isn’t it interesting that…? 🤨 Are you curious about…? 🤨 Do you ever wonder if…? 🤨 What if we try…?
Often, their answer is “no,” but I don’t give up.
So, I wonder: How do we cultivate curiosity for meaningful change? How can we convince clients and professionals that the healing antidote to certainty is curiosity?
Previous training teaches my students to seek the “right” answer to questions. I’d rather they embrace curiosity, imperfection, and the unknown a little tighter.
Bless his heart
A few years ago, I had a particularly earnest social work student who arrived early to every class, sat in the front row, raised his hand, and took fastidious notes.
I don’t need to tell you that he always wore a bowtie and Clark Kent glasses, but he did.
One day, he privately disclosed that he was struggling with the curriculum; it was challenging his notions of right and wrong, good and bad, and how the world should work.
He had enrolled in grad school to learn answers, not to collect more questions.
This happens with a lot of my students. I live in the western US, and many of them come from rural areas and conservative upbringings.
Fall in Love
“I think the world might be more complicated than right and wrong answers,” I offered. “The best therapists I know are operating without answers.”
He nodded slowly and stared at an empty corner of the classroom. “Okay,” he half-whispered. “So, I need to build up a tolerance for the unknown.”
I didn’t want to scare him away from this crucial moment, so I spoke softly. “I don’t want you to tolerate the unknown. I want you to fall in love with the unknown. When you sense the unknown is nearby, I want you to get butterflies in your stomach.”
I continued. “I encourage you to be skeptical when your clients, professors, supervisors, insurance companies, diagnostic manuals, or anyone tells you something with absolute confidence. I know you grew up in the warm embrace of certainty – but certainty isn’t therapy.”
If you’re still reading…
HI! I’m a veteran art therapist and new PhD student. I’m learning Western research strategies to better amplify the creative mental health work that art therapists do every day.
