I'll bet every therapist has a few favorite questions. Asking the perfect question at precisely the right time has the same effect as a master jeweler shaping a diamond, revealing a brilliant new facet out of a rough jewel.
One example is when a client describes handling a difficult situation with an adaptive new skill. I want to reinforce the significance of any such potentially significant events. Maybe she refused a line of cocaine at a party or he didn't criticize his partner for forgetting an errand -- the examples are countless. If a behavior represents a better way of handling a situation I may ask, "What would the
old you have done?"
This is a beautiful question and I wish I could take credit for coming up with it. Asking "what would the
old you have done?" underscores that the behavior in focus has historical consequence that is important enough to be distinguished. By its very nature it infers the presence of a "new you" and thus neatly distinguishes the legacy of the past from the possibility of the future.
I'll bet that out of 100 times asking this question I've had 99 answers that reinforce the recognition of significance. (There may have been one time a client said something like "it's the same me".) Virtually everybody accepts the offered possibility that certain events are capable of demarcating the "old" from the "new" self. The chance to step into a new and improved model of ourselves is powerfully compelling. "What would the
old you have done" is therefore a profoundly hopeful question.
Not all questions I ask are this ready-made, but some are so tried-and-true that I keep them just as handy as a master carpenter with a chisel or rasp. Many of the questions I'm most glad to have asked emerge organically from the deep and wide-ranging conversations my clients and I often find ourselves experiencing. A really well-flowing therapeutic conversation can be a transformative experience capable of transporting both client and therapist to destinations of insight and wonder neither could have predicted. A good question is often the match that ignites that rocket.
One example is when a client describes handling a difficult situation with an adaptive new skill. I want to reinforce the significance of any such potentially significant events. Maybe she refused a line of cocaine at a party or he didn't criticize his partner for forgetting an errand -- the examples are countless. If a behavior represents a better way of handling a situation I may ask, "What would the old you have done?"
This is a beautiful question and I wish I could take credit for coming up with it. Asking "what would the old you have done?" underscores that the behavior in focus has historical consequence that is important enough to be distinguished. By its very nature it infers the presence of a "new you" and thus neatly distinguishes the legacy of the past from the possibility of the future.
I'll bet that out of 100 times asking this question I've had 99 answers that reinforce the recognition of significance. (There may have been one time a client said something like "it's the same me".) Virtually everybody accepts the offered possibility that certain events are capable of demarcating the "old" from the "new" self. The chance to step into a new and improved model of ourselves is powerfully compelling. "What would the old you have done" is therefore a profoundly hopeful question.
Not all questions I ask are this ready-made, but some are so tried-and-true that I keep them just as handy as a master carpenter with a chisel or rasp. Many of the questions I'm most glad to have asked emerge organically from the deep and wide-ranging conversations my clients and I often find ourselves experiencing. A really well-flowing therapeutic conversation can be a transformative experience capable of transporting both client and therapist to destinations of insight and wonder neither could have predicted. A good question is often the match that ignites that rocket.