Sometimes it’s the simplest things that get us in the right direction.
A slight nudge from a person of credible disposition, perhaps, or an inquisitive gesture that invites some honest reflection. Sometimes it’s the power of a story, or the real-life account of a another person that wakes us up from our cognitive slumber, stimulating us to re-evaluate things from a whole new perspective rather than sucking the recycled juices of old habits and outdated assumptions. But perhaps even more so, it is the unusual application of space and time – facilitated in a non-judgmental way that helps release many compacted layers of erroneous beliefs and stunted perspectives. Sometimes a person just needs to hear themselves within the safety of their own personal echo chamber in order to move a few inches forward in their lives; to be able to see through the thick web-like mass of cognitive constructs that they have been unknowingly weaving for years.
We don’t always need an exhaustive deep-dive into the human psyche in order to process complicated trauma. We do, however, need a proper space to allow the folds and wrinkles to become unraveled. Good therapy allows for this. It can be painful, for sure, but the cost of avoiding such pain is the endless perpetuation of the same emotional impairments over time. And the longer we let the pain stew, the more we become hopelessly (and pathologically) informed by it. And the more our relationships are informed by it.
In 1964, a great little book titled Dibs in Search of Self was published. Among other things, it is a detailed account of a series of play therapy sessions conducted between the author herself, Dr. Virginia Axline, and a five year-old patient whom she refers to as ‘Dibs.’ Axline herself was one of the founding pioneers of Child-Centered Play Therapy (CCPT) and has since been widely recognized for her contributions to therapy in general. At any rate, Axline’s book is a remarkable commentary on the power of self-led reflection, and the results that we see in Dibs’ personal development is a sure testimony to this practice.
For the sake of context, Dibs had always been considered a ‘troubled’ child with severe behavioral issues. He was non-verbal in most of his social interactions, and was basically written off as having unresolvable psychological deficits, or else severely developmentally delayed. He could not interact with any of his peers, and he showed no ability to engage in a meaningful way with other children, nor with any of the adults in his life. He was known for his angry, sometimes violent, outbursts and was generally very difficult to transition from one activity to another. As a last measure to try to understand him, an attempt was made by Dibs’ school and his parents to seek some specialized support, at which point they reached out to Dr. Axline.
What follows in the story is the remarkable unloading of trauma that Dibs had accumulated over the course of his short lifespan, and by the conclusion of the book we come to see that he is, in fact, a highly gifted and intelligent person.
What is even more remarkable is the manner in which his therapeutic ‘intervention’ is carried out. As Axline herself makes quite clear in her writings, an approach where the child is permitted free range to explore their own relationships (both with the external world as with as with their own selves) is one in which the child’s dignity is honored for what it is. The concepts of ‘change’ and ‘correction’ are not prioritized here. As such, she states that she “wanted him to take the initiative in building up this relationship (since, all too often) this is done for a child by some eager adult.” Axline went on to state that “there is no greater discipline than to maintain the completely accepting attitude and to refrain, at all times, from injecting any directive suggestions or insinuations into the play of the child.”
Consequently, the child in this particular situation was one who was left free enough in his therapeutic play to explore the various depths and hidden territories of his burdened mind. And through an amazingly gentle and noninvasive approach by his therapist, Dibs “was exchanging his anger and fear and anxiety for hope and confidence and gladness.”
Perhaps one of the most significant themes in the account of Dibs is the principle of freedom. Freedom to navigate the complexities of life at one’s own pace, and not under pressure to conform. Dibs struggled to exist in spaces and communities where he did not feel at liberty to exercise his will. There were severe emotional and psychological constraints in his personal family life (though his parents are later said to have grown and matured quite remarkably, the source of Dibs’ pain was largely a result of their ineptitude for healthy nurturance), and the teachers at his school were likewise not equipped to support him in the way that he needed. This basically left him in a locked state of development; able only to express his unresolved angst through negative and sometimes even violent behavior.
And this is precisely why Dr. Axline’s playroom served as such a pivotal role in helping this child maneuver through his trauma. Simply put, the playroom represented freedom and acceptance. For Dibs, the self-led nature of his play sessions were entirely without the burdensome constraints of expectation. As Dibs himself related to his therapist two years after his therapy had ended, “I was frightened at first because I didn’t know what you would do and I also didn’t know what I would do. But you just said ‘This is all yours, Dibs. Have fun. Nobody is going to hurt you in here.’”
Nobody is going to hurt you in here. In some respects, this phrase captures an essence of what protection and security are really all about. We cannot expect to be protected by the infrastructures of this world in its current state, but we can discover a sanctity within ourselves that can withstand any force that is thrust upon us. As it happens, sometimes it takes a lot of effort to understand and locate that sanctity, but the labor and patience are more than worth it. And is this precisely what Dibs’ journey was all about.
Over the course of the book, we are shown the beautiful way in which Dibs reconciles the largeness of the world around him with his own emerging sense of identity. In fact, a lot of his recorded words suggest a sense of awe and periodic trepidation with the fact that there is an entire universe of activity going on – both in plain sight as well entirely in spite of his existence. His therapist is careful to support his personal speed and cadence in reconciling these things, however, granting him the simple gift of time to come to grips with phenomena that could easily become a source of anxiety for people. The point is that Dibs needed to develop his own relationship with a massive and unpredictable world without any distraction; he needed to find and establish his own sense of security – as opposed to depending on the stability of other people in order to feel safe. Axline recognized that there was no person in Dibs’ life whom he could reliably go to for support and assurance at that point, so it was truly imperative that he find a capacity of assurance within himself if he was going to have any hope of thriving.
Axline makes a strong point about the role of therapy itself in this respect, particularly that the object of therapy is not to serve as a crutch or a substitute for self-reliance, but rather a means to encourage the development of inner resources so that one does not look to the external world for comfort.
I had hoped to help Dibs differentiate between his feelings and his actions…I also hoped to communicate to him the fact that this one hour was only a part of his existence, that it could not and should not take precedence over all other relationships and experiences, that all the time between the weekly sessions was important, too. The value of any successful therapeutic experience, in my opinion, depends upon the balance that is maintained between what the individual brings into the sessions and what he takes out. If the therapy becomes the predominant and controlling influence in the individual’s daily life, then I would have serious doubts as to its effectiveness. I wanted Dibs to feel that he had the responsibility to take away with him his increasing ability to assume responsibility for himself and thus gain his psychological independence.
Perhaps one of the more telling moments of the book is when Dibs is feeling particularly distraught, and Axline resists the maternal urge to hold Dibs in her arms and console him. As she explains, the ‘therapy’ was primarily in permitting him free access to experimenting with a wide range of feelings and emotions (without judgment), and not the indoctrinating of some kind of psychological teaching or the decidedly good intentions of impulsive coddling. Any kind of emotional soothing would have been a deviation from what Dibs ultimately needed: the ability to face his own emotions with courage and find a way to process them accordingly.
Perhaps one of the unique things about Dibs’ particular situation was that the people who should have been available for nurturance (primarily his parents) were sadly inaccessible to him – at least during this specific part of his life. Likewise, he did not have the luxury of trustful, mature friends with whom he could ventilate his paranoias and confusions. His teachers, as well-meaning as they may have been, were too distanced from him emotionally in order to serve as loyal confidantes either. He was essentially on his own, at the vulnerable age of five, to sort out his own resources for finding mental safety. This meant that he had to learn to trust himself, first and foremost, in order for this to happen.
As it happens, we find that Dibs travels up and down the spectrum of developmental maturity through each passing session in the playroom. There are periods where he dares to examine the psychological pain of his parents’ incompetencies only to, moments later, revert back to the behaviors of a baby – literally sucking on a toy milk bottle as he looks to his therapist for some kind of maternal confidence. He veers like a pendulum between facing the difficult realities of his home life and the escapist mundanity of the sandbox…yet it’s the very freedom granted to him that allows him to ultimately keep coming back to the trauma and working it out in a way that is meaningful. Through the allowance of play and unconditional contemplation, Dibs slowly comes to terms with his external relationships and eventually find an inner strength that outgrows his fears. His empowerment is testified by a notable event towards the end of his therapy where he takes a little doll – which he personifies as the ‘little boy’ version of himself – and proudly buries it in the sand. He announces that “the little boy is gone now…but big Dibs is big and strong and brave. He is not afraid anymore.”
As Axline herself explains:
He had exchanged the little, immature, frightened Dibs for a self-concept strengthened by feelings of adequacy, security, and courage. He had learned to understand his feelings. He had learned how to cope with them and to control them. Dibs was no longer submerged under his feelings of fear and anger and hatred and guilt. He had become a person in his own right. He had found a sense of dignity and self-respect. With this confidence and security, he could learn to accept and respect other people in his world. He was no longer afraid to be himself.
Perhaps one of the best lessons from Dibs’ playroom journey is the principle of self-nurturance. In some senses we see this as a complicated thing but, in practice, it really doesn’t have to be. Yes, it is definitely a very good thing to have relationships that are nurturing, but the reality is that many people don’t have the luxury of those kinds of connections. At least not yet. Even as Viktor Frankl (the late Holocaust survivor who spoke endlessly on the potential invincibility of inner freedom) pointed out, “when we are no longer able to change a situation, we are challenged to change ourselves.”
The external world will always be precisely that: external. In some senses, its sheer vastness and immovability can seem terrifying (just as Dibs wrestled so much with it as he gazed out into its monolithic size from the tiny confines of the playroom window). On the other hand, its very vastness and unpredictability render it – ironically enough – as a very predictable entity in many respects. The very fact that our spirituality is not predicated on the constructs of humanity’s world is what gives us our hope. As the social world turns on its axis, simultaneously ingesting and vomiting the seasonal tides of cultural doctrine, our resolve to find refuge in our personal values while also staying curious about the world’s changing phenomena can be extremely freeing.
Nobody is going to hurt you in here.
In this way, our sense of self – in contrast with the fickleness so prevalent in society today – is what brings true liberty. This sense of self is best exercised through non-judgmental examination of our fears, as well as mustering some bravery in facing our trauma. At the end of the day, you are the only earthly being who can facilitate such a safe space for this process. You alone can authorize yourself the permission needed for feeling what is painful and – once accepting this – gain the power to build a world of your own making. A world that is congruent with your deepest values.
Feel the thing and grieve it.
Learn what your values are.
Lean into those values.
Be free.
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