Author: beautility

Posted on

Pop Psychology 8 – Supermarket Flowers – Ed Sheeran

The writer of so many good songs it is challenging to choose one Ed Sheeran number to focus on.

But, as Mothers’ Day approaches this beautifully crafted tribute to his mother appears appropriate.

 

Here is a link to the official YouTube video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bIB8EWqCPrQ

 

Ed describes performing various domestic routines. But, like the photos in the album, they speak of a life that was loved. As the scene unfolds we learn that this life belonged to his mum whose illness has succumbed to death and whose love for him is evidenced by his breaking heart.

Ed celebrates his mother’s support of him by singing “Hallelujah” and, against the etiquette of his father, shedding a tear.

Ed continues tidying respectfully, coveting his mum’s view of life that, “A life with love is a life that’s been lived”.

While we are mistaken to think that all angels are good, Ed recognises that his mum’s home is with God. Proclaiming her observation of the person he has become he eulogises her shaping of him.

Attachment theorists suggest that we only need one attachment figure, typically our primary caregiver, who provides secure enough attachment for us to develop from dependence into secure independent, or maybe that should be interdependent, adult human beings.

Knowing we are unconditionally loved offers a strong foundation in life, bringing a sense of identity and purpose and meaning to this journey we call life. From this secure base we have the confidence to explore our environment and the people who inhabit it in safety, enabling us to regulate our emotions and negotiate transition from one phase of life to another successfully, giving scope to developing the full potential of who we are intended to be, as a gift to the rest of humanity.

Where an infant’s experience of their primary carer is either as unattuned, unreliable or even abusive they are likely to develop an insecure attachment style. If left undetected or untreated this will probably become the prevalent way they connect in adulthood.

Where a child experiences inconsistent attention from their carer, perhaps because the carer is preoccupied with meeting their own needs, the child tends to develop an ambivalent attachment style, alternatively clinging anxiously to (even, sometimes, to the extent of a role reversal attempt at seeking to care for the carer) and repelling the perceived intrusiveness of the carer in an attempt to pre-empt anticipated rejection. Unchecked this will likely manifest as self-criticism, manipulation and possessiveness in adulthood, often characterised by a pattern of angry outbursts followed by pleas for forgiveness.

Where a child experiences neglect and abandonment from not having their needs met, they may seek to minimise their needs in an attempt to avoid experiencing the disappointment of not having them met by their carer. But unacknowledged needs often come at a price as they cannot be voiced and so remain unmet by another, leading to the foment of resentment.

Where an infant is betrayed through abuse it is likely to lead to confusion and lack of trust and a disorganised chaotic relational style.

Fortunately, all is not lost. If you think you may be among the 35% or so of the UK population who have an insecure attachment style, working with a registered, accredited therapist can help remedy delayed development through finding secure attachment at any age.

 

Let us join with Ed in singing “Hallelujah” for his mum who provided him with such secure attachment to enable him to write and perform so many life affirming songs that bring so much blessing to so many people.

David Sinclair is a registered accredited psychotherapist, counsellor and supervisor.

He is the Pastoral Care Director of the Association of Christian Counsellors (ACC), a faith- based soul care agency.

David is also the Service Manager of Wessex Psychotherapy and Counselling CIO (WPC), a registered charity dedicated to relieving psychological and emotional distress.

 

 

Posted on

Pop Psychology 7 – Spent the day in Bed – Morrisey

Morrisey, former lead singer of the Smiths is not renowned for his calming lyrics. It is hardly surprising then that his first new release in three years pursues a disquieting tone.

Here is a link to the official YouTube video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1rmAi9XmlIo

The staccato ‘intro’ stands in stark contrast to the rest that bed invites. The driving rhythm that ensues militates against daytime repose. Perhaps this is intentional. With the notable exception of night workers most people take to their bed for sleep at night. Those staying the day in bed are typically ill, out of, or eschewing work, homemakers or possibly retired.

Morrissey pre-empts any workshy judgement being made of him, stating “I’m not my type”. The reason, it appears, that he is “very happy” he “spent the day in bed” is that he seeks to avoid what he asserts is the enslavement of being a worker.

Often associated with time off work is watching daytime TV, an eclectic mix of soaps and shopping channels. But rather than endorsing avoiding these, Morrisey advocates his listeners “Stop watching the news”. As he offers this advice the rhythm modulates, becoming free flowing, and the melody resolves, running counter to the conspiracy theory he implies. “News contrives to frighten you”, with the purposes, he alleges, of minimising personal significance, isolating and controlling individuals. “To make you feel small and alone…that your mind isn’t your own”. This cocktail of ideas is likely to provoke anxiety even in the most stable among us.

 

The theme of escape continues into the second stanza as Morrisey, lying in his paid for sheets, consoles himself that his “dreams” are “perfectly legal”. So persuaded is he by the efficacy of his strategy that he urges all he embraces as friends to “Stop watching the news”. The benefit to be derived from following this advice he suggests is “time [to] do as I wish”. The accompanying music slows, taking on an ethereal quality, emphasising the freedom to imagine.

By his third meditation on the advantages of spending the day in bed, Morrisey pleads with those who will listen to follow his recommendation to “be good to yourself” before the “pillows” of bed become the “pillars” of a tomb because “life ends in death”.

As Morrissey’s treatise melts into the ‘outro’ the repetitive alliteration of “no bus, no boss” and the rhyming of “no rain, no train” echo the rhythmic quality of a commuter journey. But Morrisey’s sardonic observation goes further he seems to see the routine of work as a depersonalising pursuit, one which emasculates and castrates, offering “no highway, freeway motorway” as escape to wilder reverie. Morrisey finally reinforces his view of the work-a-day world as enslaving by what sounds like the lash of a whip.

While I acknowledge news can shock, here is not the place, nor is there the space, to enter into a debate about whether the way in which it is told contrives to frighten, diminish, isolate and control people. Indeed, I find conjecture about conspiracy theory as unsettling as the concept itself. Spending the day in bed to avoid the object of our terror flies in the face of recognised desensitisation treatments of progressively facing our fears.

For me the alarm raised by this song is observing the balance between work and rest. Time and space to reflect on experiences and imagine possibilities offers enrichment. We work more effectively from a place of rest. The routine and creative aspect of work can be beneficial. Granted, some of us have greater opportunities and wider choices than others about what we work as and who we work for. Fundamentally, I find myself unable to agree with Morrisey’s thesis. After all, if we stay the day in bed to avoid being enslaved as a worker who will pay for the bed sheets in which we lie?

A registered therapist or counsellor or a trained pastoral carer can support and accompany you in helping face your fears and anxieties.

David Sinclair is a registered accredited psychotherapist, counsellor and supervisor.

He is the Pastoral Care Director of the Association of Christian Counsellors (ACC), a faith- based soul care agency.

David is also the Service Manager of Wessex Psychotherapy and Counselling CIO (WPC), a registered charity dedicated to relieving psychological and emotional distress.

Posted on

Pop Psychology 6 – Better by Maggie Rose

The invitation to eavesdrop on Maggie Rose’s intimate conversational reflection is a sublime privilege.

 

Here’s a link to the video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WWIyAqT4DEY

 

The personification of the bottle enticing her to imbibe its contents so that “We can make it through this lonely night together” offers a timely reminder that as human beings we are designed for relationship. Strange but true; we can experience relational connection with a substance.

 

The trigger for the songsmith’s musing is her desire to “feel better”, “good”, “alright”, indeed “anything but what I feel tonight”.

 

The source of her discomfort is “the way he left”, of which she is reminded by the “pictures running through [her] head”. We are not told how he left, whether he died, or moved on to another relationship. It is apparent that contemplating the leaving tips into distress as she contrasts it with “the way he loved”; as she recognises that what she once enjoyed, she no longer has. To put it another way, she comes to a realisation that she has experienced loss. And the natural human response to loss is grief – deep, if not, overwhelming sadness.

 

Writing, as I am, at the turn of the year, I am conscious that many will be making new year’s resolutions, perhaps targeting a ‘Dry January’. It transpires that this is not the first time our lyricists have experienced the flirtatious call of the vial’s essence. But as vocalist Maggie plaintively intones “that’s a road I don’t wanna go back down”. It appears that merely imagining rekindling attachment to an object of fixation causes her to “hate myself for what I’m thinkin’ now” as she gets in touch with shame arising from dependence on a substance. Perhaps she is recalling the hangovers of the morning after as the body is desperate to rehydrate. Or, maybe, the nausea and blackouts as memories of the night before leak back into consciousness. Or, possibly, the difficulty concentrating and being able to perform at work. But the flask has not yet given up on its seduction “Hey,” it attention grabbingly interrupts her pondering, then whispers, temptingly, “it’s just one night, it’s not like it’s forever.” And the liquor’s coup de grace is it’ll make you “feel better”. And, temporarily, it may well, but her twin aims of wanting to “feel better” and “move on with [her] life and put the pieces back together”, are curiously at odds with one another, because the chaos of intoxication impedes this picture of ordered progress.

 

The grieving process cannot be rushed. It takes as long as it takes. Each individual’s grief is unique to them. So, reaching out to “kill the pain with a stranger’s touch” “when the lonely gets to be too much” driven by the need to “feel better” ends up being counter-productive because the pain needs to be experienced as the loss is processed, in order to “feel better”. And the songwriters seem intuitively to be aware of this “I know there’s gonna come a day when he’s still gone and it’s okay.”

 

The yearning to “feel better” while sparked by the aching void of absence is also fuelled by how the artist feels about themselves. As observed earlier, the composer’s shame springs from addiction to a substance (alcohol) or process (sex addiction) but could also have been exacerbated by the leaver choosing to go rather than being taken, involuntarily, by death, leaving the bereaved feeling somehow ‘not good enough’ and unworthy.

 

A registered therapist or counsellor or a trained pastoral carer can support and accompany you in your grief as you process your loss. They can also work with you to overcome addiction to surrogate relationships with substances or habits by helping you rewire your neural pathways as you come to a realisation that you are unique, precious and worthy in your own right with no need to be trapped by shame.

David Sinclair is a registered accredited psychotherapist, counsellor and supervisor.

He is the Pastoral Care Director of the Association of Christian Counsellors (ACC), a faith- based soul care agency.

David is also the Service Manager of Wessex Psychotherapy and Counselling CIO (WPC), a registered charity dedicated to relieving psychological and emotional distress.

 

Posted on

Pop Psychology 5 – Fragile and prone to distortion. Why relationships are like glass

In my work as a counsellor and psychotherapist I never cease to be amazed at one and the same time at the resilience and the fragility of the human spirit – that inner core of ourselves as human beings.

In the song ‘Glass’, husband and wife duo Keifer and Shawna Thompson, collectively known as Thompson Square,  explore human fragility through the lens, if you will pardon the pun, of glass. Here is a link to the song www.youtube.com/watch?v=fN8nQ7zYOWY

It is perhaps helpful to reflect for a moment how people come into relationship. It starts with an encounter. Two people become aware of one another. Maybe they find themselves in the same space at the same time. Or, maybe, their eyes connect and they are drawn together. It occurs to me that ‘Glass’ is all about the risk involved in moving from encounter through connection to relationship.

 

“Trying to live and love,

With a heart that can’t be broken,

Is like trying to see the light with eyes that can’t be opened”

 

Just as we won’t see the light unless we open our eyes we won’t experience the benefits of relationship unless our hearts are open. And yes, we may come to realise “This could be a big mistake”. Maybe our hearts will get broken; but “it’s a chance we’ll have to take.”

 

We may discover we are like “oil and water”, which, of course, don’t mix, but if we don’t explore, once connection is established, we’ll never know whether we will blend or not. Alternatively, we may learn that we are “like gasoline and fire”, a metaphor generally used in the context of being no good for one another rather than setting each other aglow. Yet it’s those “different paths”, down which we’ve walked that “brought us here together” to a point of opportunity to “love [each other] gently” rather than “judge” one another.

 

It’s those same “different paths”, down which we’ve walked, on which we’ve “picked up” “baggage”, memories of past encounters and relationships.  However, when events in the present raise unpleasant feelings in us, perhaps because we are reminded of the foibles of a former mate, our minds can play tricks on us, as we attribute the source of our distress to our current partner. This unconscious process is known as projection.

The risk of opening up to another is that while there is potential for us to “shine”, because of the “baggage we picked up on our way” and projection there is also the danger we may “shatter” because “we are fragile, we are human”. Each of us has the capacity to heal past hurts or to, often unintentionally, rewound the other. Therapy helps raise awareness of the unconscious processes that go on in human relationships.

In attempting to protect ourselves from feeling hurt we may restrict “the light we let through us”. The problem with this defensive approach to life is that we also restrict another’s capacity to heal because, rather than showing them who we really are, we display a distorted image of ourselves. The more open our hearts are, the clearer the glass is and the less chance there is of our true “shape” being misconstrued.

Glass, of course, doesn’t have to be colourless.  Sometimes it is translucent or even opaque. And occasionally it may crack without shattering. The path to true intimacy in relationship is through transparency. Being seen and accepted for who we are, warts and all. Again, this involves risk. Shawna is painfully aware as she risks “let[ting] you look inside me, through the stains and through the cracks” knowing “you[‘ll] see … good and bad” because we are all a mixture of both, and pleading “not to judge [and reject] me”.

 

A registered therapist or counsellor can work with you through distressing emotions such as anxiety and shame and being on the receiving end of blame to gain fresh perspective.

David Sinclair is a registered accredited psychotherapist, counsellor and supervisor.

He is the Pastoral Care Director of the Association of Christian Counsellors (ACC), a faith based soul care agency.

David is also the Service Manager of Wessex Psychotherapy and Counselling CIO (WPC), a registered charity dedicated to relieving psychological and emotional distress.

 

Posted on

Pop Psychology 4 – Where to put the blame – when you’re only human

 Rag ‘N’ Bone Man is a curiously unlikely name for a pop star, but from the moment the undefended, earthy quality of Rory Graham (aka Rag ‘N’ Bone Man (R ’N’ B man))’s voice supplants the almost mechanical chant of the intro the listener becomes aware that they are on the threshold of being treated to a rare honesty about the human condition.

Here is a link to the song www.youtube.com/watch?v=L3wKzyIN1yk

R ‘N’ B man speaks, or rather sings, from a place of feeling blamed. We’ve all been there, I suspect, at some time in our life. I call to mind a giant foam hand with a pointy index finger, recognisable from sporting events; or worse still a stadium full of fingers pointing at me screaming “I am to blame”. However, with deft integrity R ‘N’ B man eschews the stereotypical response of denial and owns the fact that he is “only human”.

Then in full glare of his audience he enters a space of personal reflection:

“Maybe I’m foolish,

Maybe I’m blind

Thinking I can see through this

And see what’s behind”

 

Concluding with utter candour that with “no way to prove it” that maybe he’s “lying”.

 

He realises his limitation. What is common to us as human beings is, though we often don’t like to admit it, that we are all finite.

R ‘N’ B man then invites the listener to make an honest assessment of themselves

 

“Take a look in the mirror

And what do you see?

Do you see it clearer

Or are you deceived

In what you believe?”

 

He observes that we all see things from a different perspective, hinting that no one has a monopoly on truth and asserting that none of us has the right to blame another for seeing life differently.

 

Then Atlas-like, with the weight of the world on his shoulders, R ‘N’ B man feels the full weight of his finiteness.

 

“Some people got the real problems

Some people out of luck

Some people think I can solve them

Lord heavens above”

 

 

And verging on anguish, familiar to anyone who has sought to help another only to be misheard or misunderstood, he pleads

 

“Don’t ask my opinion,

Don’t ask me to lie

Then beg for forgiveness

For making you cry”.

 

acknowledging that part of what it means to be human is that we “make mistakes”. Admitting that he is “no prophet or messiah”, he suggests that if we are looking for someone who doesn’t make mistakes we “should go looking somewhere higher”; pointing to a higher power, someone infinite.

 

Blame has been around since the beginning of time. In Genesis 3:12-13 we read that Adam blamed Eve and she blamed the snake, for the ‘original sin’. Finding ourselves on the receiving end of blame, being the focus of the end of the pointy index figure, is uncomfortable because we don’t want to be found wanting, to feel that we have fallen short.

 

Yet far from being “only human”, Genesis (1:26-27) suggests that human beings are the pinnacle of God’s creation, formed on the sixth day, after everything else, and made in God’s image. God commanded humankind to have dominion over the earth (1:28). However, that mandate was given before humanity disobeyed God’s specific instruction not to eat of the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil (Gen 2:16-17). The act of disobedience is recorded in Genesis 3:6. The result (3:7) is shame, the exposure of human shortcomings for all to see. This awareness of our finiteness coupled with our continuing aspiration for dominion sets up an anxious tension within us, which we expend much energy in seeking to manage.  It is this, I believe, R ‘N’ B man in wrestling with in his realisation that he is ‘only human’. But what if, as humans, we were never intended to go it alone, but journey through this experience we call life in partnership with the infinite God? But that’s a story for another day.

 

A registered therapist or counsellor can work with you through distressing emotions such as anxiety and shame and being on the receiving end of blame to gain fresh perspective.

David Sinclair is a registered accredited psychotherapist, counsellor and supervisor.

He is the Pastoral Care Director of the Association of Christian Counsellors (ACC), a faith based soul care agency.

David is also the Service Manager of Wessex Psychotherapy and Counselling CIO (WPC), a registered charity dedicated to relieving psychological and emotional distress.

 

 

 

 

Posted on

Pop Psychology 3 – Saying it loud and clear in the living years

I remember vividly discovering that I could learn from my children. I still marvel at the way they handle the life I have been instrumental in giving them as precious. With far greater ease than I recall mustering at their age and, seemingly, less effort, they navigate the challenges of their ‘Living Years’; all the more breathtakingly now as they interact with their own offspring. I have not always approved of the lifestyle choices they each have made, but I have come to recognise them as autonomous human beings in the making, just as I am, who were entrusted to me and my wife’s care for a season. We enjoy a freedom of sharing with them in celebrating their accomplishments and consoling them in their disappointments.

Paul Carrack’s plaintive voice captures so poignantly the regretful realisation “It’s too late when we die to admit we don’t see eye to eye.” Here’s a link to ‘The Living Years’ by Mike and the Mechanics www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGDA0Hecw1k

‘The Living Years’ come to an abrupt end with death. For the survivor, relationship, albeit estranged, is severed. The opportunity for intergenerational discord to be repaired and the parties to be reconciled is lost. Grief adds to the pain of regret and even a hint of guilt might lurk, hauntingly, in the wings, if the bereaved feels they have contributed towards the rupture in connection which is now left unresolved.

As children we commonly model our lives on our caregivers as our closest example. As our orbit increases through school, further training, work and choice of life partner we become exposed to other influences which may cause tension, even conflict, with our forebears. This emotional strain often reaches its peak in teenage years as the adolescent is thrashing around seeking their own identity. Sometimes, fuelled by teenage rebellion, this leads to the adoption of any identity so long as it is not that of my father. The song encapsulates this tension succinctly in the opening line “Every generation blames the one before.”

Reflection, prompted by the father’s death, leads the son to recognise he has imbibed his father’s values “I know that I’m a prisoner to all my Father held so dear” and espoused his hopes and absorbed his fears “I know that I’m a hostage to all his hopes and fears” but they have left him feeling trapped.

Attempts to “get agreement in this present tense” are thwarted as the written word is “crumpled” and the spoken word is “stilted”. The “different language” we talk is embedded in our “defence” of our own insecurities. People become alienated from one another when they hold rigidly to their own position rather than making themselves vulnerable by entertaining the other’s “perspective”. The more entrenched we become in our viewpoint, the more inevitable a “quarrel” becomes. Disagreements frequently escalate due to lack of forgiveness for ways we’ve behaved in the past and a belief that behavioural change is not possible.

The song urges us not “to yield to the fortunes you sometimes see as fate” because to do so would “only sacrifice the future” relationship and ensure “it’s the bitterness that lasts”.

The song is essentially a plea to reconcile while we have the opportunity, born out of regret, “I didn’t get to tell him all the things I had to say… in the Living Years”. Catching the echo of his father’s spirit in his “baby’s new born tears” is perhaps an inkling of a resolve not to make the same mistake with his child.

I can’t help but be reminded that God has done everything necessary through the life, death and resurrection of His son Jesus, for us to reconcile with him in our ‘Living Years’ and so avoid an eternity of regret.

A registered therapist or counsellor can work with you through distressing emotions such as regret, grief and guilt to gain fresh perspective.

David Sinclair is a registered accredited psychotherapist, counsellor and supervisor.

He is the Pastoral Care Director of the Association of Christian Counsellors (ACC), a faith based soul care agency.

David is also the Service Manager of Wessex Psychotherapy and Counselling CIO (WPC), a registered charity dedicated to relieving psychological and emotional distress.

 

 

 

Posted on

Pop Psychology 2 – ‘Please Don’t Leave Me’ – Letting go of co-dependency

Hearing, for the first time, P!nk’s unaccompanied voice punching “Da da da da da” in the intro, even before the relentless, driving guitar kicks in, left me winded. A foreshadowing of the breath-taking push-pull tussle that ensues. “I always say how I don’t need you.” followed a few lines later by “I need you.”

For those unfamiliar with the song, or who need reminding, here is the You tube link http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-XLvUpvjZo. A warning though, this video contains disturbing images of brutalising behaviour by one human on another.

Co-dependence is learned through placating the chaotic, incessant demands of a forebear or sibling who is perceived as a helpless victim, in a vain attempt to ‘rescue’ them. Self-respect is abandoned and self-development subjugated in the mistaken belief that meeting the needs of another is the route to bolstering self-esteem and finding identity.

Subconsciously, we are attracted to partners who display what is familiar. Those who have experienced co-dependence growing up are drawn, undiscerningly, to the seemingly helpless, even when their suitor may prey on their benevolence. Such relationships are exploitative as the predator parasitically sucks life out of their helper leaving an impoverished husk. Enmeshment makes escape challenging, particularly as separation is perceived as threatening to existence. The myth of co-dependence is ‘There is no me without you.’ As P!nk repeatedly observes, clingingly, “it’s always gonna come right back to this. “Please, don’t leave me.”” Better to suffer accustomed abuse than face the unpredictable danger of the unknown.

Realistically, as finite human beings, we can never fully fulfil the needs and desires of our partner. Only God, who is infinite, can completely meet human need. Rescuers and victims do not always play the same role around the drama triangle. Either, can turn persecutor where their fragile self feels threatened by the other’s lack of ability to satisfy. P!nk describes humiliating victimisation of her partner by “yelling”, “kicking”, “insulting”, “cutting”, “hitting”, objectifying him as “my perfect little punching bag”.

With remarkable self-awareness P!nk confesses she “can be so mean” and “capable of really anything”. Realising she hasn’t always been as “obnoxious” and “nasty”, with a hint of blame shifting and allusion to awareness of co-dependence, she questions, “What is it with you that makes me act like this?” Before, alarmingly, justifying, her abuse, on the grounds, that her “heart is broken” and concluding relationships are “just a contest” won by “the one that hits the hardest”. The tragic irony of co-dependence is that it is not motivated by altruistically meeting the needs of another; rather, it is about getting my needs meet even if that means abasing myself. And, yes, there are times in relationship when we think situations are our partner’s fault; and we may feel like breaking their heart like we, mistakenly, believe they are responsible for breaking ours. What we are coming to terms with, in that moment, is our own inflated expectation of our partner’s ability to fulfil our lack, ending, yet again, in disappointment. But the co-dependent acts compulsively out of woundedness, “Baby, I don’t mean it,” P!nk sings poignantly, landing a pre-emptive strike to protect what remains of their fragile self, which serves, only, to escalate emotions.

Where relationships become a contest, nobody wins. Both are left broken in the aftermath of domestic violence. Mature adult attachment characterised by the mutual honouring of interdependence offers an opportunity to nurture and encourage one another to become fully the people we are intended to be.

Co-dependence also manifests in work place bullying and between church leaders and their congregations.

David Sinclair is a registered accredited psychotherapist, counsellor and supervisor.

He is the Pastoral Care Director of the Association of Christian Counsellors (ACC), a faith based soul care agency.

David is also the Service Manager of Wessex Psychotherapy and Counselling CIO (WPC), a registered charity dedicated to relieving psychological and emotional distress.

Posted on

Pop Psychology 1 – Do you need to speak to someone?

What makes the perfect pop song? Music has three vital ingredients, melody, harmony and rhythm. For a track to become a hit it needs a hook, something to draw the listener in, so that the number becomes an incessant earworm, to which Kylie’s 2001 No 1 ‘Can’t Get You Outta My Head’ hypnotically attests. Songs that draw my attention have a further component. They tell a story. Succinctly capturing vignettes of life in 3 minutes. Not only observing something about the human condition but resonating deeply with it.

The concept behind each entry in this regular blog is to take the narrative from a popular song as a jumping off point to explore aspects of mental health. Hence, the title, ‘Pop Psychology’. While my blog will visit many musical genres, I confess a leaning towards country music in which I experience storytelling at its peak. I make no excuse for starting there.

First up then Matt Kennon’s ‘The Call’.

The initial scene is of a man about to pull the trigger to end his life, when his space is invaded by the ring of his mobile. The song does not directly address the question of what brought this man to such a point of despair that he concluded life, as he was experiencing it, wasn’t worth living. Or, to put it another way, his existential fear of the possibility of not being overriding his desire to live. What brings us, as humans, to the end of our resources varies on how we see ourselves in relation to the world and others in it and our ability to adapt to the uncertain, unpredictable nature of life.

By coming alongside another in the moment, sharing space with them, entering their experience of being, by bearing witness to their suffering through empathic compassion, honouring them by being realistic about their desire to cease being, a registered counsellor can help them grow a stronger sense of self, develop resilience, validate their autonomy and restore a sense of hope.

As a Christian, I believe that God affords us occasions where we are confronted with our limitations so that we might acknowledge our weaknesses and turn to depend on His infiniteness. The extent to which we choose to, largely depends upon whether we see God as all-powerful and all-loving. While Kennon is not overt about what brought his character to want to commit suicide he hints at it. The incoming call is from his best friend inviting him away for the weekend with an admirer. As humans, we appear to share a deep-seated need for acceptance; a sense of being valued simply for who we are, rather than what we do. Much of what drives us to despair is isolation from relationship with others from which we derive meaning. As he takes the call, acceptance is what is communicated. The central character is reminded he belongs to the human race and relents from taking his own life.

The next stanza shifts to two 18-year olds whose attraction to each other leads to an unintended pregnancy. Responsibilities are weighed and the boy convinces the girl that abortion is the only option. There are at least three parties to this decision, the prospective parents and the unborn child, not to mention the wider families. The embryo has no voice. However, the boy appears to overrule the girl’s voice, as his will prevails. Equally the girl’s preference could predominate with the boy’s wishes being denied. Issues around the sanctity of life, when life begins, who has rights and responsibilities are complex ethical issues.

Again, a registered counsellor can offer space to one or both prospective parents to reflect on these important matters, as well as the grief, and possible guilt, associated with loss in a non-judgemental environment. As the girl awaits the termination, frightened and alone, her mobile rings. The boy appears to have had a change of heart as he proposes marriage and raising the child together. Perhaps he has come around to her way of thinking, as the refrain kicks in, indicating she is glad he called. This is not to suggest that shotgun weddings are always appropriate or that life for them will be happy ever after. Rather, their commitment to each other is likely to be the beginning of many challenges, as well as joys.

The song culminates with issuing a challenge to listeners to make the call to someone they know who may be in need and be glad they called. Similar, perhaps, to Jesus’ challenge to “Love your neighbour” as demonstrated by the Good Samaritan.

The Association of Christian Counsellors (ACC) is a professional body accredited by the Professional Standards Authority to hold a register of counsellors. As a faith based soul care agency it is uniquely equipped to explore the integration between Christianity, counselling and mental health. ACC’s heritage of safe, competent and ethical care places it well to equip others to care pastorally.

David Sinclair is a registered accredited psychotherapist, counsellor and supervisor.

He is the Pastoral Care Director of the Association of Christian Counsellors (ACC), a faith based soul care agency.

David is also the Service Manager of Wessex Psychotherapy and Counselling CIO (WPC), a registered charity dedicated to relieving psychological and emotional distress.