I grew up tortured by the tenets of fundamentalist Evangelical Christianity, and in my young adulthood, navigated to conservative communities within Catholicism. While some use my background against me, saying that I’m unnecessarily guarded, I believe that proactively healing from the wounds of spiritual abuse these last two decades gives me an uncanny ability to call out rigidity when I see it. Even as a kid being volleyed back and forth between two devout parents in their own right (one Evangelical, one Catholic), I learned to see the merits of both. AND I couldn’t understand why we all seemed to resist seeing the common ground. That included Jews, and Muslims, and Hindus, and Jains, and Buddhists, and all the great wisdom traditions of the planet! To me, our beliefs have a common thread, yet I grew up in contexts where I was told differently. The first time I ever saw the now legendary CoExist symbol was on a billboard when I first visited Sarajevo in 2000. I turned 21 that summer and Bosnia-Hercegovnia, where I would remain to live and teach for the next three years, was still in the throes of recovering from a brutal civil war. Personally, I was struggling to identify my own spiritual path as I sought recovery from addiction. When I saw that billboard, I knew with every fiber in my being that the CoExist symbol was my path. I came to learn it had a name--sanatan dharma—the threads that unite us are the essence of truth and worthy of embracing. The rest is just details.
Resting into this spiritual path serves me well in my personal life, and it’s largely shaped my professional outlook. Which brings this all to eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) therapy… An experience with a phenomenally integrative EMDR therapist in 2004 saved my emotional life (when I was two years sober and still struggling with maladaptive dissociation). I received my training in 2005-2006, and jumped in with both feet, regularly offering the therapy to my clients. While working on my doctoral studies, I first attended the EMDR International Association (EMDRIA) annual meeting in 2007. Brazenly, I introduced myself to EMDR founder Dr. Francine Shapiro to thank her for what she created, yet it was at the conference where I would also meet other wonderful people in the EMDR community who would made even more of a difference for me. One of those people was Dr. Sara Gilman from Encinitas, CA, who became my primary consultant throughout the certification process. She also helped me wade through my frustrations around the politics and personalities in the EMDR community that bothered me immensely. Sara was (and still is) a radiant, real human being who truly understood how my mind worked, and she never once tried to change it. She worked with it and helped me fall in love with EMDR even more! A line that she consistently used in our work together, when I struggled with some of the rigidity in the protocols was, “Jamie, this is what the textbook tells you to do. This is what I actually do.”
That guidance from Sara represents a balance that I hope I have also been able to impart as an EMDR clinician, consultant, educator, and training provider. This guidance was the inspiration for my first book that Premiere Education and Media published in 2011, EMDR Made Simple: 4 Approaches to Using EMDR with Every Client. I knew that the book would likely make me a pariah in the EMDR establishment, and at that time I didn’t care. I believe I had something useful to say from my lived experience about how fundamentalism and rigidity benefits no one, especially people like me with complex trauma and dissociation. Even at that point, I would sit in conference presentations and feel like the powers that be who got the microphone on these topics were talking in such intellectual terms about people who need to be treated in a very human way—the way that Sara treated me. As I learned that EMDR therapy can play well with other therapies and approaches in a spirit of integration and modification, I started bristling when people said things like, “Well, that’s not really EMDR,” generally in putting down a savvy modification or adaptation. It reminded me of hearing people at church say things like, “Well, then you’re not really a Christian if you believe, say, or do that (insert any violation of the "rules" here).”
Ouch—why were people connected to a therapeutic modality that I loved, a therapy that helped me to heal from much of that trauma, spouting the same kind of aggression?
I dug in to investigate my reactions that were being elicited, and in 2010 I ended up writing an explanatory model that would become the basis for EMDR Made Simple—something I dubbed “the Four Faces of EMDR.” The idea is based on a teaching of St. Augustine called The Four Voices of God, presented for a modern audience by Fr. Benedict Groschel in the book Spiritual Passages: The Psychology of Spiritual Development. We studied this Augustine teaching in my Catholic graduate program and it was honestly the most important take away for me. People relate to God in one of four primary ways—as truth, as fire/oneness, as beauty, and a goodness. Of course we can have secondary paths of relating (I am fire/oneness first, and beauty second), and we tend to get along the least with the people whose style of relating to God most differs from our own (e.g., for me that’s the “truth” people… the theologians, dogmatic types, and to offer a clinical parallel, the strictly quantitative researchers). Augustine taught that all are different, and all have their place, for God shows up in a variety of ways and forms.
Call me crazy (I truly don’t care, it’s a compliment these days), this idea seemed to fit as it relates to all psychotherapies and the controversies that ensue about model fidelity versus tendencies to innovate and to modify. And from there I proposed “the Four Faces of EMDR:”
I’ve long embraced that all of these faces of EMDR are valuable, and we need all of them in the clinical arena. Since I attempt to be as non-dogmatic as possible, I also agree it’s possible to identify with more than one face. For instance, although primarily Face 2, I have a great deal of Face 4 in me. I consider the Dancing Mindfulness approach to expressive arts therapy that I developed in 2012 to be an extension of my EMDR work and thus Face 4 in many ways. Additionally, a person may see themselves as somewhere between Face 1-2 or between Face 2-3. Although I am Face 2, I can pull out my "Face 1" language and savvy when I need it, especially in offering foundational (basic) trainings or in communicating my ideas to other Face 1 people.
I published this model in an attempt to promote some semblance of unity and cohesion among people who love and are intrigued by the wonders of EMDR therapy. Of course many resented me for it, and many considered me a genius for it… I’ll let you be your own judge of that. I’ve been thinking a great deal about “The Four Faces of EMDR” since the COVID-19 pandemic thrust an entire community of therapists, not just EMDR therapists, into working in telehealth…an area where so few of us are trained and where few research studies exist on best practices. As battles ensued around me over propriety and appropriateness in shifting EMDR therapy to telehealth (e.g., do you let people self-tap or not?, is it ethical to do trauma work online with people who dissociate?, is it prudent to venture into an area where there is so little research?, should we be taking advice on online therapy from people who are in different ideological camps?), the Jamie who wrote EMDR Made Simple ten years ago re-emerged.
I admit, especially since I am now an EMDRIA-approved trainer who has more Face 1 qualities than she used to, I’ve sometime wondered if EMDR Made Simple did more harm than good in helping therapists hone their EMDR craft. I am much less rebellious and a lot more party line as it relates to proper EMDR technique than I was back then. I’ve learned that the technique isn’t the enemy; it’s the attitude and approach that people take to the technique that causes problems. You can use it rigidly, or you can use it artfully. I even wrote two pieces lauding proper technique and explaining how I reconciled with the standard protocol here on this blog. I’ve come to appreciate that much of what I initially interpreted as rigidity in Dr. Shapiro was truly her push to get EMDR therapy validated as evidence-based by the metrics of empirical research. Even though thinking in those terms does not serve me either personally or clinically, I see how it serves our larger community. And in 2018, Springer Publishing—one of the largest publishers of mainstream EMDR material and the publisher of The Journal of EMDR Practice and Research—put out my second EMDR book (EMDR Therapy and Mindfulness for Trauma Focused Care, co-authored with Dr. Stephen Dansiger). Rebel Jamie from 2010-2011 was a bit shocked by that one!
Yet in the week when we switched over to telehealth and I struggled to find resources for my trainees and community—I listened to the different voices and the old Jamie who wrote EMDR Made Simple paid me a visit. I realized that rebel Jamie is who I need to be for myself right now, and how I need to show up for my students and my community. As I declared on a public webinar I did with my friend Mark Brayne on March 22, however you do EMDR in your office and in whatever face you work—transfer that to telehealth. Your confidence in your approach will inevitably translate and we can continue to ease or even end some suffering during this difficult time. There’s plenty of time to debate and even to research when all of this is over. For now, show up for your clients with whatever EMDR face you wear and do your best to honor other EMDR and EMDR-related clinicians who are doing the same.
Over the years I’ve been met with, “Oh, you do qualitative research,” in a tone that suggests: That’s cute, but what does it really prove? The findings from qualitative research won’t really help to advance the scientific aspects of trauma therapy. The field and the people making the decisions about what constitutes evidence-based practice want the numbers, the empirical data. Especially when we promote approaches like EMDR therapy. We have to prove it works with science to the naysayers!
What if the important things just can’t be measured with numbers?
At heart, I am a phenomenologist and I believe that they can’t be. Phenomenology is more than just the study and observation of “phenomena,” as people often surmise. Edmund Husserl (1859-1938), the father of phenomenology, emphasized the importance of lived experience. He rejected the Galilean notion that the human experience could be quantified. When I first studied Husserl during my doctoral program, it seemed as though my whole existence had been validated. When I absorbed that specific teaching, an audible, “Yes! This!,” came out of my mouth during a late night reading session on the couch. My declaration was so loud, it woke up my partner at the time.
Having been raised by a math teacher mother and cheered on by her math teacher father, I was encouraged to study science and math with top priority when I was in school.
“That’s where all the jobs of the future are,” my mother reasoned.
I advanced to organic chemistry and calculus II in my undergraduate studies, forcing myself to get A’s. And yet I truly failed to see how any of it mattered in making me a better person. To be clear, I’m not one of those anti-science types. I recognize the massive importance of empirical inquiry and believe that quantitative thinkers are necessary in an enlightened world. Yet they do not hold all the pieces of the puzzle as the black-and-white ethic that keeps us stuck in the fearfulness of modern times would have us believe. Sometimes what they measure in numbers doesn’t reflect the reality of others’ lived experiences. Intoning the wisdom of a professor in my doctorate program, quantitative inquiry may be like the skeleton of a system, but qualitative offers the muscles, the blood supply, and the vital organs. We need the entire system in order to move forward.
I’ve always seen the world in themes, colors, emotions, and stories. Savoring and reinventing communication is my favorite art form. When I was in school trying to make people believe I was good at math and science, I excelled the most in social studies, English, and the performing arts. They seemed to make my miserable life brighter and worth living. Oddly, I managed to qualify for the International Science and Engineering Fair my junior year of high school. Even my teammates wondered how the content of my project was strong enough to make it through the Ohio selection process. Quite frankly, it was on the power of my presentation skills and connecting the dots of relevance of the science to modern consumers. Indeed, in the field of counseling studies, empirical inquiry is often described as being able to prove that something works, whereas qualitative inquiry shows us how something works. Even as a kid, that was my strong suit!
When I “came out” to my mother during college to tell her I was not going to go the pre-med track, but rather, had decided to study History and English/Pop Culture, I thought she was going to have a heart attack.
“But math… science… that’s where the future is at.”
I told her I was willing to take the risk.
The flow of life brought me to a career in clinical counseling and I became a doctor, although not the type she wanted me to be. I quickly became the kind of counselor who knew I could not be guided by research alone. Client preference, context, culture, and clinical judgment emerging from my own lived experiences (all components of evidenced based practice according to the American Psychological Association[i]) also guided me. Working to heal and to understand myself translated into my enhanced clinical efficacy, as shown by more favorable client outcomes. I took to qualitative phenomenological research like a duck to water. Especially as someone with a mind that has always felt like a mosaic, in it I found beautiful lenses through which to study the world and the people in it.
During the 2008 EMDR International Association (EMDRIA) conference, I won first prize in the research poster competition for my dissertation pilot study on the use of EMDR therapy in addiction continuing care. I was the only qualitative study in the competition, and both research committee chairs, almost through gritted teeth, told me that I was the first qualitative project to ever win the award.
“What can I say, the methodology was solid,” one of them said.
That is an important point to emphasize. Qualitative research is not about pulling concepts out of mid-air or fishing for the lived experience of others’ just to prove your point. There is a systematized way to analyze themes in order to draw conclusions. For instance, Amadeo Giorgi’s Descriptive Phenomenological Psychological Method is a simple yet effective process for reading data—people’s descriptions of their lived experience with the phenomenon being investigated—to extrapolate the common threads. Elisabeth Kübler-Ross used a similar style of research in her work. Brené Brown, who is single-handedly changing the world with her teachings of overcoming shame through vulnerability and courage, is a qualitative researcher known for using such methods. The rich lessons of humanity reveal themselves in themes and stories in a way numbers may never do them justice.
So, that dissertation research went on to get me two publications in major journals of the American Psychological Association, Psychology of Addictive Behaviors and The Journal of Humanistic Psychology. Yet these studies from 2010 and 2012 are rarely, if ever, cited in literature reviews on EMDR therapy. Indeed, one of my major criticisms with Dr. Shapiro’s final edition of EMDR Therapy: Principles, Protocols, and Procedures (2018) was that aside from mentioning a few case studies in passing, not a single, substantial qualitative study was cited. And a lovely collection of qualitative literature exists on EMDR therapy that goes beyond case studies, yet the community at large rarely seems to look at them. In our desperation to prove that EMDR works, we may be missing vital information on why it works and how it brings about transformation in the lives of people we serve. I venture to guess this experience is not unique to the field of EMDR therapy.
Indeed, in another area of psychology that interests me greatly, the study of dissociation, I observe similar problems. My lived experience with dissociation is truly lived experience. As followers of my work know, I’ve talked and written openly about my own struggles with dissociation. I gently tested the waters as early as 2011 and in 2018, I came out very fully and unapologetically. I challenged people interested in dissociation to look beyond the heavy textbooks and the numeric inventories like the Dissociative Experiences Scale (DES) and the clunky Multidimensional Inventory of Dissociation (MID) and into their own lived experiences as a treasure trove of inquiry. Being dissociative is a fundamentally protective mechanism of humanity that we’ve all experienced in one form or another. There is nothing fundamentally wrong with using quantitative measures and other people’s scholarly writing to help yourself and the people you work with better understand dissociation, especially if it helps the client. Yet if you are only using the quantitative and other people’s citations to advance your study, you are missing big parts of the picture.
At the 2019 EMDRIA Annual Conference, my identity as a qualitative thinker connected to the beautiful circle that began eleven years earlier as an eager doctoral student. I won EMDRIA’s Advocacy Award for my willingness to be out about my own struggles and use platforms like YouTube and blogging to translate the how and why of EMDR therapy to the masses. Two other happenings at the conference, however, helped me further connect to why I love being a qualitative phenomenologist so much. First, Dr. Derek Farrell, an English EMDR scholar and only EMDR trainer in the world to offer a master’s degree specific to EMDR therapy, endorsed the importance of qualitative research during his Sunday keynote address. He expressed that quantitative research is very top-down in its orientation, whereas qualitative research is bottom-up.
I squealed with the same enthusiasm that woke my partner up back when I first read Edmund Husserl. Finally, a member of the EMDR establishment was making such a bold pitch for the necessity of what thinkers like me can do. In trauma therapy, we generally teach that top-down interventions are very cerebral, whereas bottom up interventions primarily address the body, emotions, and visceral experiences. In sum, we need both top-down and bottom-up, yet what EMDR therapist have long identified as missing from traditional talk therapy is the bottom up. This bottom-up has also been missing from psychotherapy research or dismissed as not that important. That attitude must change if we are going to maintain the soul of our work while also pushing for empirical data. People are holistic beings, so why can’t science be total and integrative as well? Qualitative is artful yet it is not just art. Rather, it is art with power to illuminate the science and make it more relevant and applicable to the people it serves.
Later that day I went on to give a ninety minute talk on my own lived experience as a woman in recovery from a dissociative disorder and how that’s informed my work as a clinician. Every other time I heard a presentation on dissociation at the EMDRIA conference, while not doubting its content and relevance, I felt offended that people like me were being talked about in such cold and technical terms. Something vital has been missing that couldn’t be measured by any score on the DES or the MID, both of which can be very difficult and even impractical for people with dissociative minds to take. Not only that, they attempt to measure in numbers a phenomenon that is experienced in qualitative layers. During the Q & A period I fielded a criticism that my presentation did not rely enough on the citations of others and that perhaps I misunderstood the intent of someone whom I did cite. I answered that by framing this presentation as a true sharing of phenomenology, I wanted to shift the paradigm, or at least open up another portal of inquiry. Some people are not ready for that, which I expected. And yet for the people who are, you are in for a treat.
A few questions later another individual came up to the microphone and asked about a case he was working on where an emerging seven-year old part perplexed him. I asked him a few questions back about his own lived experience as a seven-year old and as the parent of a seven-year old. I wish that other members of the audience could have seen on the big screen just how much his face let up when he realized the answer was with him all along. And when he realized that, he knew exactly how to proceed with his case.
In response, I said, “No citation will teach you that.”
While citations and research, even qualitative research, is important, what life as a phenomenologist has taught me is that your own lived experience have more to teach you than you’ve ever imagined. Learning about the lived experiences of others, with an open mind and heart, and letting them communicate with your own will change the world. That is the future of which I want to play a colorful, thematic, multifaceted, holistic part.
So Mom, I love you, and I respectfully disagree with your career guidance. My present—and my future—is qualitative.
[i] American Psychological Association Presidential Task Force on Evidence-Based Practice, “Evidence-Based Practice in Psychology,” American Psychologist, 61, no. 4 (2005), 271-285.
Photo Credit: Paula Lavocat
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Our work and our mission is to redefine therapy and our conversations are about the art and practice of healing. Blog launched in May 2018 by Dr. Jamie Marich, affiliates, and friends.