Ravon came into counseling with me after several attempts at talking through their trauma with other counselors. And then, the words would stop. They’d freeze. Their mind would go blank. They had nice counselors who did their very best to help. The problem was, they needed words. They didn’t know how to decode their still body language, how to speak to the unspeakable.
Lucky for me, Ravon had given me clues early on that this might happen. And they’d done more than that. They’d shown me art; they’d drawn pictures. These pictures acted as gateways to sharing the unspeakable. Instead of urging Ravon to talk, I handed them a drawing pad and markers. And they spoke to me through their art.
I wish I could tell you now that I’d drawn beautiful response art that demonstrated some profound understanding – meeting wordlessness with wordlessness. I can’t draw. So I spoke to what I saw. It was profound, and the pictures spoke to terror, a sense of stuckness. I suggested that they might draw a figure that would be strong, smart, brave, to counter the terror. They did. And with the addition of a superhero in the picture, their words were restored.
For other clients, music is their vehicle of expression for the stuff beyond words. Whatever you’re feeling, there is a youtube video that can help convey the feeling — love, tenderness, heartbreak, oppression, devastation, and any mix of these emotions or any others. I used to think that musicals featured music to underscore the emotion of a moment, and while that’s true, what I recently heard is that those actors burst into song when the emotions are too big for them to speak any longer. Sharing music with a counselor can do the same thing. It can speak for you when the feelings are too profound for words. My clients share music that inspires awe and music that speaks to their darkest places. Listening to music together helps me to know them differently and helps them to feel heard differently too. Because our stories aren’t just words. They’re textures they’re layers they’re emotions they’re rhythm or a lack of rhythm they’re harmonic or dystonic they resolve or they don’t. Music can convey all of this.
Music, poetry, a clip of a tv show or movie, a journal entry you wrote and bring to share — there are so many vehicles of expression. People are often delighted to realize that they get to do more than talk here.
There’s another key to struggling with words. Sometimes words don’t come because words were contradicted before, or speaking out was punished. This is a place where we want to support the words but the fear needs to be soothed first. You need to know you’ll be heard. You need to know that your words, your feelings, your thoughts, are welcome.
And then there are the moments where you’re having a body memory of being unable to move or speak. Those can feel really scary. You want to talk but the words won’t come out. Those, we might work with by me encouraging little tiny movements with your fingers — some clients like to wiggle their toes in these moments — it’s a reminder that they can move that isn’t visible to people in the outside world. A little piece of little reclaimed movement, and the impasse begins to break.
What doesn’t help wordless moments is insistence on words. What doesn’t help is assuming the wordless moments mean you’re “resisting.” What doesn’t help is being told in any way that you’re wrong to be unable to speak in this one medium for the moment.
In here, we’re gentle with the wordless and assume that the silences have things to say too. In here, we work to honor the fear and gently find a way into sharing truth, in whatever way works best for you. In here, sometimes clients hide under a blanket for a moment and breathe, and wait for the words to come. In here, all of you is welcome, and I know that the wordless places also hold precious wisdom and tell us something about you.
I do my best to listen. Even when you’re not verbally saying anything. In here, the unsayable is welcome and it often becomes sayable.
(For a beautiful book about this that’s offered me some inspiration, I recommend “The Unsayable: The hidden language of trauma.” It’s poetic; it’s moving; it offers new ways to speak and to be heard.)
If you’re looking for a place for your unsayable to be held, contact me for a consultation (just use the button at the top of this page.). I will listen to what you say, and gently make room for what can’t be said in words just yet.