CONTEXTUAL-CONCEPTUAL THERAPY (CCT):

   Going Deeper into the Suicidal Experience with the Suicidal Person

For some time now I have been looking into issues surrounding suicide. The news is full of statistics and heartfelt stories of families caught in the devastating aftermath of the tragedy and loss of suicide. Soldiers and Veterans are killing themselves at unprecedented rates—22 per day we are told, though rates are likely much higher. At the same time we are losing teens to suicide at a stunning pace, and the overall rates of suicide are reaching epidemic proportion (Sabrina Tavernise, NYT April 22, 2016). And, as the investigations progress, we find that despair is among the more common reasons cited among those who have attempted or thought about killing themselves; and with despair comes isolation.

This is a chilling combination – despair and isolation. When one sinks into despair, a wall is erected in the psyche, and circumstances and misunderstanding quickly become insurmountable. As the wall becomes higher, deeper, and  more complete finding one’s way out becomes increasingly difficult, choices are diminished, and soon there are no alternatives but to sacrifice the self–all too often literally.

This is where Fredric Matteson’s work with CCT (Contextual Conceptual Therapy) has become so profound. Fredric shows that there are always more options than the mind believes. When there appears to be no way through the problem. This is where Fredric invites us to look at the problem ‘differently.’ Once that is done CCT takes a dramatic departure from common therapeutic approach–suicide might still need to happen: a metaphoric death, not a literal one. Matteson gives an example that is in alignment with one very suicidal woman’s own sudden realization about her multiple suicide attempts. She realized, “I want to die” is a metaphor for “I want to live.”

Fredric says:

“An indirect form of communication is needed to bypass the fierce intelligence and resistance which sustains this psychological and emotional trap. By utilizing metaphor and experiential methods, I have found ways to offer suicidal persons a stereoscopic perspective using metaphoric resonance to bypass the entrenched internal illogic that binds them.”

In essence, what is “killed” (dissolved) is not one’s Self. Rather, some part of the self might need to “die,” so that another part can transform, grow, and mature. Instead of moving away from the suicide, the suggestion is that “the only way out” is ‘through’ that place in the psyche and into the deep imagination where the roots of creativity and one’s Great Identity reside. From here, attending to inner anguish is very different than taking one’s own life when faced with utter despair. The despair becomes a harbinger for deep and profound transformation.

http://suicidetherapy.com

Benjamin Dennis Ph.D

Tumult and order

We humans love tumult just as much as order. We love cacophony—the wildness of ocean, mountain, romance, and youth. Yet, we also love order, concert, fine craftsmanship and straight or fine curves. Look at the “lines” of a beautiful boat or car, or even the majesty of a straight and true building!

Yet, too much of one, or the other, and we tire quickly. The wild tumult becomes exhausting and dangerous. And, when we live in a world too orderly, too straight, too “true,” then sterility and ennui set in, and we become bored, anxious, and all too often we “go crazy.”

We strive to find order in the maelstrom! We revel in the outrageous uproar of unfettered action, and even the idea of being free will send us leaping with a great shout. And yet, when the waves grow too tall, their tops blown off by driving winds, we pine for the bliss of calm seas, still waters, and quiet beauty. Then, in our maddening human way, when the stillness grows and lions lay with lambs, disquiet grows in us and we fidget. Back and forth we go, peace and conflict, in a dance that belies any firm stand we might make. When boredom sets in, we begin to act out and strive to mar the finish. “There is no excellent beauty that hath not some strangeness in the proportion,” says Francis Bacon. We are by nature, predisposed toward change and risk.

This is not to say we don’t become addicted to one or the other. We do. And, we often see the result: In order we may find safety, but also rigidity, fear, hatred, and that special kind of madness that separates and isolates us from the dance. And, in Tumult there is exhilaration and adventure, yet we cannot stand what has gone before, distrusting what is established, driven by excitement, newness, and risk.

Indeed, it must seem these two, tumult and order, are at war, and necessarily so! One leads to innovation, creativity, growth, and destruction; the other to stability, safety (or the illusion of), certainty, apathy, stagnation, and forgetfulness. We love one and hate the other… then it changes.

So, before we attach ourselves to one or the other, we must remember that both are necessary, and both can kill you!