Page Title

Setting the Scene

Polly (a pseudonym) had been attending the centre where the dramatherapy
took place for nine months,having been diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome.
At forty-two, Polly was now living in sheltered accommodation designed for
elderly people. Centre staff described Polly’s family as unsupportive and
noted that she was struggling to understand her diagnosis of Asperger’s
Syndrome. Whilst the overriding aim of the centre was to help Polly get
back to work, issues around her previous and recent diagnosis and the effects
on her sense of self emerged as central to Polly’s current difficulties.

The sessions developed their own internal structure,as, each week, Polly would
cross an imagined threshold and explore ‘the other side’. This physical journey
allowed her to embody her thoughts and imaginings,integrate body and mind,
whilst exploring her sense of self and potential selves.

The Journey

Session One: Polly expressed feelings of tension and anxiety, saying she did
not feel comfortable in her body. This led to a centring exercise aimed at
reducing tension. Polly was then introduced to the idea of a talking space (two
chairs at one end of the room) and the working space (an open space at the
other end of the room), setting up the potential dynamic of the dramatherapy
session.
An imagined threshold was created to move from one area to another. Polly
created a deep dark chasm. When asked if she wanted to cross the chasm, she
said ‘I need to move forward. I can’t stay where I am.’ Polly and I discussed
possible ways of crossing the chasm. She feared another chasm might be on
the other side. I invited her to step up to the edge of the imagined chasm and
look across. She saw fear. When I asked her what fear looked like, she said “a
crocodile”.
We discussed what might happen if we crossed the chasm. Polly suggested
various tactics if faced with the crocodile: to run away, to close her eyes, to
swim. To these suggestions I pointed out that crocodiles ran fast and swam
well, and it may not be safe to close our eyes. After that, she said she
didn’t know. I suggested wearing the disguise of a crocodile suit, which Polly
agreed to. At this early stage Polly looked to me to find the solutions, and
was perhaps testing the boundaries of safety,assessing whether it would be
possible to take risks. Following discussion with my supervisor, it was
evident that at some point in the process Polly might well experience
disappointment at finding out that I did not have all the answers. When worked
through, the experience of this disappointment could help her to deal with
feelings of disappointment in relation to others, and simultaneously lead her to
find her own answers.
We mimed putting on imaginary crocodile suits for protection. Polly suggested
jumping over the chasm. I introduced a rope as a safety precaution, and we
jumped. Polly asked me to go first.
Polly explored the workspace through a short sensory exercise. We then
crossed back.   On crossing, Polly said that she was relieved to be going back,
indicating that the work had been challenging. In the talking space, having
taken off the crocodile costume, Polly noted that whilst imagining, she had also
been thinking about herself in relation to the chasm and the crocodile. This
showed a good capacity for self-reflection, demonstrating that Polly was able to
straddle both worlds (imaginary and real), without blurring the boundaries. It
also underlined for me Polly’s constant intellectualising of herself that led
her to detach emotionally from her experiences. This may be part of her A.S.
Temple Grandin writes: “Dr.Asperger noted that autistic children observe
themselves constantly. They see themselves as an object of interest.”
(Grandin 137) My sense was that Polly needed to use these sessions to
explore he rworld (internal and external) physically, as talking kept her in her
head, a place where she evidently felt comfortable, enabling her to distance
herself from her emotions and therefore from experiencing her life directly.

Session Three: Polly complained of a headache, which was like a volcano – red
and moving. (She was now able to describe her physical reactions through
metaphor, something she had been unable to do in the assessment sessions.)
She said she felt ill. She dimmed the lights, which became a precedent for all
following sessions, suggesting light sensitivity and perhaps a possible desire to
control her external world.
When I asked whether Polly wished to spend the session talking or moving into
action, she decided to act. During the centring exercise, which grounded Polly in
the here and now, she kept turning her eyes towards me, as if checking out how
she should respond by watching my response.   Her need to react in
accordance with those around her seemed to be a large factor in blocking her
from experiencing herself. The threshold was once again established and
imagined as a chasm, only smaller this time. Polly said she wondered what it
would be like to fall, what it was like down there. I did not get the sense that
Polly intended to suggest any suicidal thoughts, but rather,
that the statement had been made as a challenge. Was she challenging herself
or me? I suggested that it would be possible to climb down and look at the
bottom, emphasising at the same time the need to cross
safely. Polly suggested we cross using a rope. Preparation for a potential
meeting with the crocodile included putting on an imaginary crocodile suit and
finding a warning signal and a gesture/position to adopt as protection against
the crocodile. Before crossing, Polly pictured the other side. She saw long
grass, which had been flattened, a white rabbit, and small flowers. To cross,
Polly tied the imaginary rope around her waist. I held the rope until a safe
crossing had been made. Before crossing Polly noted that we were side-by-
side but separate, making clear how she viewed our relationship at this
time.
An exploration of the imagined landscape took place,with Polly acting as guide,
describing sights, sounds,smells, and the feel of the place. We walked side by
side, as requested by Polly. She described the grass underfoot, the misty warm
air, and noted that it was a good place to be. We discussed the presence of
the rabbit as a reassuring sign that the crocodile was not
in the vicinity. On the return Polly said that she wasn’t ready to meet the
crocodile. She said she had been afraid that the crocodile would eat the rabbit,
and that she hadn’t wanted the rope support on crossing, but was glad of
it. She wanted to do things on her own but knew she needed support. “I find it
hard to let people in” she said. "Even nice people." Polly clearly struggles to
make connections with people and finds it safer to remain on her own. I
remarked that Polly might not always need the rope. The rope had been there
because Polly had not been sure that she could cross the chasm
safely.In the closing moments I asked Polly if there was anything she wanted to
leave in the room. Polly replied that she wanted to leave her fear, and left
the crocodile to be guarded by me.

Session Five: Polly said she had been crying prior to the session and
mentioned her family as the cause. A discussion followed, where she outlined
some particulars about her familial relationships. She expressed a wish to move
into action, noting that when he talked she went round in circles.
The threshold was still a chasm, though it was not as wide, and was dark brown.
She couldn’t see the bottom. Pictured on the other side was a dark forest. The
trees were close together and there were a pair of eyes looking out from behind
one of the trees. We jumped across the chasm using the rope. Polly askedme
to go first.
Once across, Polly stood on the edge of the forest
and described the birds, gorillas and monkeys she
could hear in the trees. The forest was alive. I
asked Polly if she could still see the eyes. Polly
replied: ‘they are my mother’s eyes. I don’t want to
look at them.’ This was the first time Polly’s real
world had entered the fictional space, showing a
positive merging/integration of her external and
internal worlds. She said the forest felt cold, and
expressed a desire to go to the sea, which was on the
opposite side of the workspace. She paddled in the
sea, as in the previous session, before returning to
the forest.
Polly explained that she couldn’t talk to her mother,
as she felt afraid. I encouraged Polly to talk in
third person, saying what she would wish to say to her
mother, as she stood on the edge of the forest looking
at the eyes. Polly began to talk and as she talked
she cried. Polly was able to name her fears and give
voice to her internal world in relation to her mother.

Having re-crossed the threshold Polly stated that she
was deeply affected by her family and wished to be
able to be herself in their presence. Polly had moved
on from the previous session, where she was able to be
‘in the moment’ of the imaginary world, to being able
to inhabit and explore her emotions through the
imaginary, illustrating her growing ability to
integrate head and heart.
Session Six: The threshold chasm was very narrow with
grass on either side, narrow enough to step over.
Polly pictured a sandy beach on the other side with
dunes and rocks. The sea was in between the chasm and
the beach, but it was shallow enough to wade through.
Before crossing the threshold Polly suggested that
there might be crocodiles in the sea. We rehearsed
the signal and the crocodile gesture, as in previous
weeks.
No crocodiles were sighted as we waded towards the
beach, side by side. The beach was empty and Polly
described the sound of seagulls and the feel of sea
spray and the rhythm of the tide coming in and out.
The rocks were shaped like chairs she could sit on.
The beach stretched as far as the horizon. On turning
to look at the sea Polly said she could see three
crocodiles in the water. When asked what she wanted
to do, she replied ‘I want to throw a stone at them.’
A rationalising of the action followed this. ‘But
then they will come out of the water. Maybe I won’t.’
Polly’s wish to attack the crocodiles suggested a
feeling of anger, anger that she was able to express
but not yet act on, within the metaphoric dramatherapy
space.
Polly discussed possible ways of crossing back
through the sea. I asked ‘what is the worst thing
that could happen?’ Polly replied, ‘it could hit me
with its tail.’ I reminded Polly that she also had a
tail, dressed in her crocodile suit.   I suggested
that she might want to say something to the crocodile.
‘The crocodile doesn’t speak,’ stated Polly, with
conviction.
Once in the sea Polly told me that one of the
crocodiles was looking at her. The crocodile started
to open its mouth and bang its tail. I asked Polly
what that felt like. She replied ‘not as frightening
as I thought it would be. It’s just showing me it’s
there.’ Polly said that it felt all right for the
crocodile to be there and she stood and watched it for
a while and then moved around it and stepped out of
the sea and over the chasm.
When seated in the talking area, Polly stated that
she wasn’t afraid of the crocodile because it couldn’t
speak. She said it was people she was afraid of. I
asked Polly who the crocodile reminded her of. She
said that the crocodile was like her father, that her
father cried crocodile tears, not real tears. ‘He
cries to get the dust out of his eyes, with no
feeling.’ I suggested, “he cries crocodile tears and
you cry real tears?” “That’s how I see it,” said
Polly. She said she was afraid of her father’s words.
I asked if her father’s words hurt her like the
crocodile teeth, and Polly nodded affirmatively. We
discussed how it might be possible for Polly to
protect herself from the crocodile teeth and remain
herself, so that, though she may always feel the
pressure of teeth, they wouldn’t pierce her skin.
During Polly’s closing words she said she felt as if
she was moving. ‘Feeling things and then feeling
other things.’ Polly was now experiencing a flow of
emotions. She said that she had been glad that she
was not alone, glad that I was with her, acknowledging
our growing relationship directly.
Session Seven: The forthcoming termination of therapy
was discussed. Polly said that she had not been too
good and expressed a wish to talk and to move into
action. She decided, after some deliberation, to act
and then to talk. She was now making clear decisions,
outlining dilemmas and finding answers for herself,
without asking me, marking a shift from the early
sessions.
The threshold continued to be a chasm, now a thin
line stretching out in front of her, which she could
straddle. A stone cave, like a grotto, was pictured
on the other side, along with a stream, a cliff, and a
goat. Polly asked me to cross the threshold first.
Once across, Polly walked through the stream to the
cave entrance, which had water pouring down it. Polly
said that the cave was dark inside. I asked her if
she had a torch and she said ‘no.’ Polly had to bend
down to enter the cave, as the entrance was low. She
now inhabited her imagined landscapes physically,
allowing herself to directly experience the journey
without distancing herself through her intellect.
Once in the cave Polly said that it wasn’t dark.
There were lights, like stalactites, all over, and
there was a hole in the ceiling where she could see
the sky. The cave was round and bigger than it looked
from the outside.
Having left the cave, Polly walked back through the
stream. I asked what was to the right of the stream.
Polly said it was dark and full of sadness. She said
she could hear people crying. I asked her if she
wanted to take a look, and we stepped out of the
stream to the edge of the dark place. Polly said that
people were walking in between rocks, and wailing.
She identified the people as her mother, father,
brother and sister. They were trying to draw her in.
‘It is like a leper colony.’ She didn’t want to go in
and they didn’t want to come out. I invited Polly to
speak to the wailing people. Polly told her family
how she felt, that she didn’t want to go in, that she
loved them. She explained that there was a pathway
between them that was always open. She marked the
path with her hand. I wondered internally whether
this was the middle ground between the black and white
aspects of her world. When asked what Polly wanted to
do, she said ‘I want to wail.’ She then stated that
she couldn’t, that she would be self-conscious in case
people heard her. I suggested that she wail into a
cloth, that we could both wail into clothes, so that
no one from outside would hear but she would hear
herself.
We wailed together several times, each time louder
than before. When we had finished wailing Polly said
that she still had some wailing left in her but that
was all she could do for now. She looked back at the
dark place before she left and said, ‘they have their
arms out towards me.’ This made her feel sad. On
reflection with my supervisor I wondered whether part
of her ‘wailing’ was for the forthcoming loss of the
therapy, as well as for the sadness that surrounded
her familial relationships. It seemed no small
coincidence that I was involved in a grieving process
from my recent bereavement, although I had not
mentioned the reason for my absence the previous week,
an example of what Patricia Clarkson terms the
‘transpersonal’ level in systemic integrative
psychotherapy. Clarkson writes: “Beyond rationality,
facts and even theories are the prescient regions of
dreams, altered states of ecstatic consciousness, the
spiritual, the metaphysical, the mystical, the
existentially paradoxical, the unpredictable and the
inexplicable.” (Clarkson, 166) I felt that in this
session, and throughout the therapy process, Polly and
I shared our experiences on this unspoken level, that
her process reflected and echoed my own. My
supervisor pointed out that there is often an
unconscious matching of client with therapist, and
that therapists often found their clients were dealing
with issues pertinent to themselves.
Session Eight: For the first time during the course of
the therapy Polly was unable to picture a threshold,
explaining that she couldn’t see anything because of
the fuzziness in her head. I asked her to picture the
fuzziness. She described it as a black tennis ball.
I led her through a visualisation, imagining a small
thread sticking out of the tennis ball which she
slowly unravelled until the ball was just a piece of
thread. At the close of the visualisation Polly said
she felt relaxed because she had closed her eyes. In
the previous session closing her eyes had been a risk,
a step towards trust. Now she was able to find solace
in the experience of closing her eyes in my presence.
The threshold had solid ground on either side, and a
bridge topped the chasm, which ran in between the
solid ground. She couldn’t see anything on the other
side. I wondered if Polly was distancing herself from
the creative process as a way of coping with the
forthcoming ending of therapy. We crossed together,
Polly on one strip of solid ground, and me on the
other.   I felt my own sense of disappointment at the
‘nothing’ she described, which may in part have been
transference from Polly, and partly my own
disappointment that the therapy was coming to a close.
I may also have felt disappointed at being led to an
empty place after having experienced the fascinating
landscapes of previous weeks.
On arrival Polly described the place as ‘blue and
dark like the night.’ She said the space felt
suspended and slow. She looked at the ground and
described craters with smoke coming out of them.
‘They make a hissing sound.’ The landscape made me
think of the moon and a lack of gravity and the outer
space experience that is often associated with
Asperger’s Syndrome. I felt that Polly was exploring
her experience of A.S, of feeling different,
unattached, of floating in another world.
Polly could hear the hissing and herself. She was
alone in the space and part of her was floating. She
said it felt good to be floating around. I asked her
what she wanted to do with the floating self and she
said, ‘pin it down.’ We discussed ways of pinning the
floating self down. When I asked her to tell me what
the floating self looked like, she said she couldn’t
see it, only hear it. I asked her to listen to where
it was in the space and she stretched out her arm and
said it was right there, just in front of her. ‘It
changes shape all the time,’ she said, reminding me of
the cave stone the previous week. She decided to
follow her floating self, and walked around the room.
She stopped at one point and turned to the wall beside
her, pointing to her shadow. ‘There’s my shadow,’ she
said. I asked her if the floating thing looked like
her shadow and she said: ‘no, my shadow is much more
solid.’ The way she had dimmed the lights at the
start of the session meant that her shadow was
incredibly sharp and clearly defined against the wall.
She was in fact meeting with her shadow side this
session, an ungraspable indefinable presence that felt
lost and dominant and separate, yet part of her. Carl
Jung defined the shadow as “the rejected aspects of
the developing ego” (Stevens 43). Polly pictured
these aspects as separate and floating, yet somehow
connected to her sense of self.
Polly noted, as she continued following the floating
self, that it didn’t want her to follow it. ‘It’s
running away. It’s lost,’ she said. I asked her how
she could find it and she shrugged her shoulders and
said she didn’t know. I suggested she talk to it. I
asked her what ‘it’ was called. She said ‘lost’,
‘lost dominating’, ‘lost dominate,’ finally settling
for ‘lost dominant.’ In this naming Polly began to
own her shadow side. “To name something correctly,”
writes M. Scott Peck, “gives us a certain amount of
power over it. Knowing its name, I know something of
the dimensions of that force. Because I have that
much of safe ground on which to stand, I can afford to
be curious as to its nature. I can afford to move
towards it.” (Edit. Zweig & Abrams 176) This process
of beginning to integrate the shadow side was
compounded by the subsequent process of embodiment.
I invited Polly to place a chair in the space for
herself and one for Lost Dominant and explained the
process of dialogue outlined in Steve Mitchell’s
‘Theatre of self-expression’ model. (The Handbook of
Dramatherapy, Chapter 3)   Polly placed the chair of
Lost Dominant right up against the wall, with her own
chair positioned directly behind. Finding a position
for Lost Dominant with her eyes closed, I asked her
two questions. ‘What do you look like?’ ‘Different’
she replied, as Lost Dominant. ‘What are you running
away from?’ ‘Myself’. Polly then proceeded to switch
between herself and Lost Dominant speaking dialogue.
She asked Lost Dominant ‘How can I bring the two parts
together?’ At this point I noticed the two shadows in
front of Polly, one either side of her on the wall she
faced. As Lost Dominant she leant forward, merging
the two shadows of herself into one. ‘Like this’, she
said. This seemed to me like a moment of magic. Lost
Dominant asked Polly to ‘accept me, like me, trust
me.’ Polly ended the dialogue by telling Lost
Dominant, “I thought you weren’t ok, but you are ok.
The part of me that wasn’t ok is ok.” In the talking
area we discussed how the experience had left Polly.
She said she felt hope. Her closing statement was ‘I
am me.’
After the session I went and placed a chair in the
position of Lost Dominant to see if I would see my own
shadow, in duplicate, reflected back at me, as Polly
had, and I did. The lighting had conspired to reflect
the inner workings of the therapy. I felt what Carl
Jung termed as synchronicity: “… the simultaneous
occurrence of a certain psychic state with one or more
external events which appear as meaningful parallels
to the momentary subjective state – and in certain
cases, vice versa”, (Ryan 28) a sense that the
external world was mirroring the internal world of the
client, and perhaps also myself.
Session Nine: The threshold was a small dark circle
with a lava-like light at the bottom. The hole was
deep and hot and there was nothing around it. On the
other side Polly pictured three steps leading up a
small hillside. On top of the hill was a grassy
plateau and at the far end of the plateaux was a
castle.
Once on the other side we walked up the steps and
climbed the hill and Polly led me around the grassy
area, which was a meadow with flowers and rabbits.
She saw a mouse sitting on a head of corn. ‘It is not
afraid of us,’ she said. None of the animals were
afraid. The air smelt of wind and she could hear
birds in the distance. It felt quiet. I reminded her
that she had seen a castle, and she pointed it out to
me. I asked her if she would like to go there and she
said ‘yes’.   The castle was circled by a moat. ‘The
crocodile is probably in the moat,’ she noted. The
empty castle may represent Polly’s image of her
childhood home, and/or her self and the different
rooms of her self, with fear (crocodile) separating
her from the external world. We created the castle
door using a yellow cloth, through which we passed to
reach the inside.
The castle hall had a high ceiling and doors leading
out on either side. As time was limited I stated that
there would only be time to go into one room, and
asked Polly to choose the room she would most like to
explore. She took us up the stairs and along a
corridor to the nursery door.
In the nursery Polly saw a large wicker cushioned
chair, a window and window seat, a birdcage with a
real bird and a fake bird inside, and a cot. The cot
was empty. When I invited Polly to take a walk around
the room she observed that there was a baby laying on
its back in the corner, gurgling, waving its hands and
feet in the air. A dog was sat minding the baby.
“The dog knows I’m ok,” she said. I asked her what
she would like to do, and she said, “pick the baby
up.” She then stood over the baby and hesitated as if
her body had got stuck on the way down. I asked her
what was making her hesitate and she said, “if I pick
it up I might have to be attached to it.” We
discussed what might happen if she became attached to
the baby. She then picked the baby up and held it out
in front of her, noting, “I’m holding it under its
armpits.” It was as though she didn’t know what to do
with the baby. Perhaps this was a moment being
replayed from her childhood when her mother had held
her this way, not knowing what to do? Polly then
stated that she needed to tell the baby something and
proceeded to say, “I love you. You are worth loving,”
to the imaginary baby in her hands. Robert Johnson
notes: “The unconscious cannot tell the difference
between a ‘real’ act and a symbolic one. This means
that we can aspire to beauty and goodness - and pay
that darkness in a symbolic way.” (Johnson 21) It
also means, in dramatherapy terms that past
experiences can be replayed, offering a chance to
create an alternative experience. Clients have the
chance to re-parent themselves, as Polly appeared to
be doing in this session.
Polly said “the baby is crying,” and then she held the
baby against her shoulder and it stopped crying.
After discussing how the baby’s needs were going to be
met, she decided to take the baby with her. There was
no one else in the castle. She put the baby inside
her crocodile suit in the same place as her cave
stone, against her heart.
In the final words Polly declared that she felt
surprised at what she had imagined, noting that her
imagination always surprised her. We talked about her
imagination being part of her gold, part of her
treasure trove.
Session Ten: Polly reflected on the process of
therapy by drawing a visual representation of the
journey she had taken. The drawing was designed to
help Polly take a step back from the process, creating
a transition between the work of the therapy process,
and the approaching termination of that process.
Simultaneously it allowed her to explore practical
steps for taking her new found potential into the real
world.
In the drawing Polly included her initial fears of the
unknown, with regards to the therapy, with question
marks and sketches of two stick people sitting in
chairs to represent the two of us. She then drew in
the life map and tears to show the sadness she felt
for that map of her life and the way things were.
Also included were a head with a bump, which grew
smaller as the map progressed, two figures moving
together, representing our relationship and her sense
of movement in the therapy, a light bulb in her head
to mark a shift in her understanding of herself.
To mark the transition between the therapeutic space
and the real world outside, I asked Polly to imagine
packing a bag for the start of her new journey, the
journey of her life after the therapy had ended, and
to fill that bag with what she would like to take away
with her from the therapy process. She filled the bag
with words including: trust, friendship, talking,
listening, understanding, expressing, feeling, seeing
the picture, being in the picture, living in the
moment, facing fear. She drew the two sets of figures
moving together, and a set of gold coins to represent
the gold she had found in herself. Outside the bag
she drew the crocodile wearing a lead, and drew a
figure representing herself, holding the lead. She
stated that the crocodile was not wild anymore.
Looking back on the therapy process it is clear that
Polly explored different aspects of herself each
session, starting with those parts of herself she felt
most able to bear, leaving the more difficult,
frightening and unknown parts for the later sessions,
illustrating Murray Cox’s ‘time, depth and mutuality’
theory. In so doing, Polly unearthed many hidden
treasures. I felt that she used the process to the
full, and that dramatherapy allowed her to find a way
out of her continual intellectualising, by drawing her
into her emotions and allowing her to ‘experience’
herself.

Final Thought
Irvin Yalom, in The Gift of Therapy, describes the
relationship between client and therapist as “fellow
travellers”, (10) a term that aptly describes the
journey of two people on an unmarked road. This
shared experience of travelling seems to me
fundamental to the therapeutic process and the nature
of the therapeutic relationship. Polly was able to
cross her chasm and return less fearful. With each
crossing she risked knowing herself a little more, a
journey that changed us both.

References
Clarkson, P (1995)        The Therapeutic Relationship,
London: Whurr Publishers Ltd
Cox, M. (1988)        Structuring the Therapeutic Process,
London: Jessica Kingsley Publishers
Grandin, T. (1996)        Thinking in Pictures and other
reports from my life with autism, New York: Vintage
Books
Edt. Jennings, S., Cattahach, A.,        The Handbook of
Dramatherapy, London:
Mitchell, S., Chesner, A.,        Routledge
Meldrum, B. (1994)
Johnson, R. (1991)        Owning Your Own Shadow, San
Francisco: Harper
Ryan, R. E. (2002)        Shamanism and the Psychology of
C.G. Jung, London: Vega
Stevens, A. (1999)        On Jung, London: Penguin Books
Yalom, I. D. (2001)        The Gift of Therapy, London:
Piatkus Publishers Ltd
Edit. Zweig, C. Abrams, J. (1990)        Meeting the Shadow:
The Hidden Power of the Dark Side of Human Nature, New
York: Penguin Putnam Inc

Email: hblackhurst@yahoo.com