Regression is an unconscious, emotional defense mechanism in which we revert to behaving the way we used to an earlier stage of our development. As a coping mechanism, regression is an attempt to return to a time when we felt safer than we do in our current state. We felt safe because we were taken care of. Regression can be harmless and subtle, but it can also become problematic and overt. Higher levels of stress will create more dramatic forms of regression. Typically, we see regressive behavior among children, brought about by any traumatic event, stress, or frustration. This doesn’t mean, however, that adults can’t also regress in response to situations that prompt worry, fright, irritation, and uncertainty.
Regression in the Service of the Ego
The psychoanalyst Ernst Kris differentiated between two kinds of regression that can occur during the encounter between client and therapist. The first type—simple regression—is revealed when the client abandons age-appropriate coping strategies in favor of earlier, more childish patterns of behavior. In the second type—what Kris called regression in the service of the ego—regression takes a much more constructive form. In these situations, unconscious material rises to consciousness and is used in the service of personal growth and creativity. According to Kris, artists and other creative people in particular resort to this more creative form of regression but in my work with executives I have observed that this regressive pattern is not just the preserve of creative artists. All of us have the ability to regress in a more constructive way. Using mental images derived from our unconscious, we can arrive at alternative ways of thinking, feeling, and behaving.
Some time ago, Louise, the VP Finance of an energy company, presented me with a dream she had had the previous night. In her dream, she was sitting in a taxi that was driving on a narrow country road running alongside a deep ravine. There was snow at the side of the road, which was also icy. The driver was speeding up, ignoring her pleas to slow down. As he kept on driving faster and faster, she became more and more anxious, afraid that the car would slide off the road and fall into the ravine. She felt helpless but also very angry. Suddenly, the landscape of her dream changed. Louise found herself in a strange but also somewhat familiar house, sitting on a chair. She was rocking a crib, trying to calm down a screaming baby. To her great surprise, she managed to calm the baby down—and woke up.
With a little prompting, Louise began a stream of consciousness narrative about her dream. The themes that gradually emerged centered on losing control and wanting to gain control—represented by her lack of control over the taxi driver, and her success in calming down the crying baby. Interestingly, the images of the taxi driver and the baby made Louise think of her husband. Her husband resembled the taxi driver in her dream—out of control. Even though she felt that she was babying him, she also thought that he was uncontrollable. Some of her close friends had told her that he was having an affair but despite the overwhelming evidence they put to her, Louise didn’t want to hear any of it. When I pushed her to say more, she said she was scared to confront her husband, as she was dependent on him for emotional support. But as soon as she made this comment, Louise started to cry, and told me that enough was enough. Who was the baby, she wondered? Her husband, who took advantage of her and liked to be babied, or Louise herself? Whatever, she had had enough. She would no longer tolerate the situation. Scary as it might be, it was high time to take charge. She confessed that she was quite worried what would come of her relationship with her husband if she did so. But she realized that she had a lot of things going for her: she was very successful in her job—much more so than her husband. In fact, she was the real breadwinner in the family. Also, most of their friends were fond of her but couldn’t care less about her husband. These reflections made her realize that it was high time that she took greater control over her life. It was time to stop being a baby.
In hindsight, the dream turned out be an “Aha!” moment. Before the dream Louise had been terrified by the idea of leaving her husband, scared that if she divorced him, she would become seriously depressed. The idea of being alone frightened her. She was afraid she would never stop crying. In the dream, however, she had the strength to calm down the baby, which stopped crying. Clearly, the associations she made with the dream clarified that it was high time to make changes in her life. She couldn’t continue to live as she had been. She realized that her current situation was not sustainable. The dream imagery gave Louise the courage to end her ostrich-like behavior—not wanting to see how her husband was taking advantage of her. Instead of continuing in her passive-dependent mode, she decided to act. She had a serious talk with her husband, telling him that she wanted a divorce. Her dream, in which the baby played a major role as a regressive object, became a turning point in her life.
“Aha!” Moments and the Amygdala
Unsurprisingly, neuroscientists have been trying to figure out the neural basis of these transformational moments. What’s taking place in the brain when these moments occur? What neural activity is associated with this specific type of rapid learning and insight? Fortunately, functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI ) research has helped us understand how the brain generates the spontaneous and relatively unconstrained thoughts that are experienced when the mind wanders.1
From a neurological point of view, the emotional “Aha!” is in part a right brain phenomenon, the intuitive, spontaneous, emotional, and imagistic aspect of mind that allows us access to our unconscious. When we experience an “Aha!” moment, a process in the brain bypasses our more rational thought processes but accesses other parts of the brain to find answers. Thus, when we suddenly get the answer to a riddle or understand the solution to a problem, we can practically feel the light bulb click on in our head.
Neuroscientists have pointed out that the right hemisphere of the brain is critical for the exploratory processing of novel cognitive situations to which none of the preexisting codes or strategies in our cognitive repertoire readily apply. In contrast, the left hemisphere of the brain is critical for processing based on preexisting representations and routinized cognitive strategies. If we can allow our right hemisphere to solve problems and trust it to function out of awareness—not to rely on our left brain’s need to “solve” the problem logically—then we are more likely to arrive at these insights. The amygdala, an almond shaped-like brain structure, famously known as the seat of emotions, modulates all of our reactions to events that are important for our survival. Given its central role in emotional management, the amygdala plays a significant role in “Aha!”” moments. As neuroscientists have found out, during these moments of insight, there is high activity in this particular part of the brain. It signals to different cortical regions that an event of significant neural reorganization has occurred, and by doing so incorporates these moments of insight into our long-term memory. Helped by the amygdala, once we have had an “Aha!” experience and realize that there is another way to solve a problem, or when we understand how to perform a task better and faster, we are unlikely to forget that insight. With the help of the amygdala, a new way of looking at things will have affected our brain, contributing to a reshaping of our internal world. Past patterns of thinking, feeling, and acting will be discarded. A shift in attitude and behavior has culminated in the redefinition, and even reinvention, of the self.
The Ebb and Flow of Associations
Although psychoanalysts had long known that certain interventions were experienced as especially productive by both clients and analyst, Kris was the first to examine these moments systematically. He pointed out that, in the case of regression in the service of the ego, we do not strain to find new memories. As Louise’s experience demonstrates, these memories appear unbidden. They just flow forth. And more importantly, the ability to uncover new memories can coincide with the capacity to understand the significance of what is being uncovered. In such “good interventions,” associations appear in context, symbolizing significant events and helping to reorganize psychic structure. In Louise’s case, her capacity to uncover new associations coincided with her ability to grasp the significance of what had been uncovered.
In a therapeutic situation, Kris noted that such interventions generally began with the patient recounting a recent incident. While talking about what had happened, the client would show some restlessness, or even behave in a negative way. But at a certain point during the interchange a marked change would occur. What was once a pattern of confusion, increasingly assumed greater clarity. As the encounter progressed, things started to fall into place. Whatever material came to the surface, there was little or no resistance in associating to it. New memories and associations became readably available.
When I worked with Louise, all I needed to do was ask her one or two questions and what followed was an avalanche of associations that led to a variety of interpretations. Suddenly, everything seemed to make sense to her. On other occasions she had been hesitant to present material, but when she recounted this particular dream, she was prepared to associate to it. And as she did so, new insights emerged. She saw her situation with great clarity. And this “Aha!” experience brought her a great sense of relief.
Louise’s insights were not suggested by me. The interesting thing about “good interventions”—interactions that create “Aha!” experiences—is that the client owns them, making it much more likely that they will take action. Of course, as a CEO whisperer, I am often the catalyst to make it happen—I allow associations to come to the fore and help create “Aha!” moments. But before such a point is reached, I often encounter an increase in resistance and the client may appear to be stuck. This is the point in the interchange when the work between the client and me starts to feel like very heavy lifting. I can usually see this coming. Knowing how to deal with these resistances to change is essential to being able to overcome them. As a CEO whisperer I need to be able to tolerate and deal with these difficult reactions.
Doing Nothing?
When a client is resistant and stuck, it sometimes feels as if nothing is happening but of course, that’s far from the case.2 There is no such thing as doing nothing. You are only doing nothing when you are brain dead. A better way of describing this stasis is as part of the process of regression in the service of the ego. Often something much more profound is happening when you look like you’re doing nothing. I strongly believe that many people would be better off if they did less and reflected more. Niksen is a Dutch term for making the time to do absolutely nothing. Strange as it may sound, being in a niksen mode might be the best way to deal with complex issues.
There is a well-known story about the Renaissance sculptor and painter Michelangelo that illustrates this. In 1466, a sculptor called Agostino di Duccio was commissioned to sculpt a figure of David for the cathedral in Florence. He began work on a large marble block from the famous quarries at Carrara in Tuscany but only managed to mark out the shape of the legs, feet, and drapery before he abandoned the project for reasons that have remained unclear. For the next 25 years, this block of marble was left exposed to the weather in the courtyard of the cathedral workshop, until Michelangelo was asked to revive the abandoned project. Although the marble had deteriorated, Michelangelo accepted the assignment. According to the story, soon after, rumors began to circulate that Michelangelo was making very little progress. It was said that he would stare at the marble for hours on end, doing nothing. When a friend saw him and asked the obvious question—“What are you doing?”—Michelangelo replied, “I’m working.” Years later, after the block of marble had become the great statue of David, he said, “I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free.”
Another anecdotal account of a creative individual actively doing nothing is that of the French mathematician Henri Poincaré. He recounted:
[…] I left Caen, where I was living, to go on a geologic excursion under the auspices of the School of Mines. The incidents of the travel made me forget my mathematical work. Having reached Coutances, we entered an omnibus to go some place or other. At the moment when I put my foot on the step, the idea came to me, without anything in my former thoughts seeming to have paved the way for it, that the transformations I had used to define the Fuchsian functions were identical with those of non-Euclidian geometry. I did not verify the idea; I should not have had the time, as, upon taking my seat in the omnibus, I went on with a conversation already commenced, but I felt a perfect certainty. On my return to Caen, for conscience’ sake, I verified the result at my leisure.3
Unfortunately, too many of us are not doing too little but are trying to do too much. Keeping busy has always been a highly effective defense mechanism, in many instances deployed to ward off disturbing thoughts and feelings. But while you are trying to be busy, you lose sight of how you’re really feeling and what is troubling you. Busyness allows no periods of uninterrupted, free-associative thinking, creativity, and insight. Busy people don’t realize that allowing unconscious thought processes to come to the surface can be more productive than plugging away at problem solving.
In many instances, I have found that what looks like doing nothing is, in reality, the mind’s way of stimulating unconscious thought processes. I am not making excuses for people whose inner life seems vacuous—those who seem to have no interests, who suffer from mental emptiness, don’t care about much, or aren’t interested in things. For a variety of reasons, these people are hampered by depression or another form of mental incapacity. But most of us have a rich inner life. The question is whether we use the imagery in our inner world creatively? And if so, can we figure out what this inner imagery is telling us?
As we all know, our unconscious excels at integrating and associating information by carrying out associative searches across our broad database of knowledge. While engaged in this process, we are much less constrained by conventional associations and are more likely to generate novel ideas than when we strain to focus consciously on problem solving. However, the outcome of these search processes might not always enter our consciousness immediately, which can be frustrating. Creative solutions take their time to incubate. In the meantime, we should remember the example of Michelangelo.
In my work, I have always seen their ability to balance activity and solitude, noise and quietness, as a great way to tap into my clients’ inner creative resources. This can be invaluable in nurturing whatever creative sparks they possess. It can be extremely beneficial to take a step back and consciously unplug from the compulsion to always keep busy; to get away from the habit of shielding themselves from certain feelings; to turn down the volume of life. This will bring them to regions of the mind they are usually busily avoiding. But this is exactly the place where they are more likely to generate novel ideas. By inducing unconscious thought through reflection—seemingly doing nothing—they can modify the nature of their search for innovative solutions to complex issues. What may appear like doing nothing may turn out to be the best path to solving knotty problems. Of course, this is easier said than done. Many work situations are not exactly conducive to this kind of approach, given the need to look busy.
Another one of my clients—let’s call him Michael—the CEO of a consumer goods company, told me that he felt excessively tired, even burned out, and depressed. I assumed that a high degree of stress and anxiety was inevitable, given the fast-paced environment he worked in. The incessant demands of his many direct reports, the endless stream of emails and voice messages, contributed to the question he kept asking himself: why was he doing what he was doing? Wasn’t there another way to live his life? As he made his way to work each day, Michael would be overwhelmed by the many responsibilities he had to deal with. He told me that by the time he arrived at work he was often ready to explode (or was it implode?). At the office, he found himself thinking how much he disliked his job. Work gave him little or no pleasure.
I asked Michael if there was anything that made him feel alive? Was there anything that energized him? He couldn’t respond to these questions immediately. He was incapable of discerning the themes that were really important to him. His manic behavior put him into too much of a fog. He was unable to see connections. Instead, he compared his life to drowning in quicksand. Keeping himself very busy was his escape mechanism.
As I listened to Michael, my thoughts were that he needed to overcome his sense of being victimized. He needed to stop complaining and instead become the master of his own fate. I decided that as a starter, I needed to make him more aware of why he was behaving the way he did. What were his trigger points? I wanted him to become more intimate with his thoughts, feelings, and emotions.
Initially, my questions only increased Michael’s sense of confusion. Whatever I said, nothing sank in. My contributions were water off a duck’s back. Eventually, when we had established some kind of a working alliance, an entry point was provided by the results of his Inner Theater Inventory (see Chap. 9 for more about this tool). The results moved Michael away from his defensive mode and out of his comfort zone. I pressed him about some of the issues the inventory raised. What would he like to see for his children? What values did he want them to embrace? Would they like the role model he presented? How did he think his behavior affected them? As he responded, Michael became more willing to address the issues that were really important to him. He made a conscious effort to take time out for himself—time to think. And, as I had expected, he didn’t like what he saw. He began to reflect on his relationship with his parents and how they had affected him. He started to recognize repetitive patterns and that he was behaving in a similar way to his parents. This made him afraid that he would transfer these behavior patterns to his children. He realized that he was stuck in a rut. This insight became a turning point in our relationship, an “Aha!” experience.
From that point on, Michael learned to make sense of his associations and watched the emerging imagery with an attitude of curiosity. He became more aware of the triggers that led to his feeling of explosion or implosion. In our subsequent meetings, Michael brought along an increasing amount of material about his work and his private life. It was as if a dam had been broken. Many previously repressed memories came to the surface, making our interactions truly flow. I would make observations about the associations he offered, paying attention to his feelings, his past experiences, and his own theories about life. I made an effort not to become didactic or to lecture him.
My challenge during this period was to help Michael discover the truth about himself, his life, and his feelings and enable him to make the changes needed for him to function more satisfactorily. Not long after this “Aha!” experience, he took a number of creative steps that had a life-changing effect. He went way beyond superficial change. He decided to step out of his comfort zone, stop complaining, and take action.
Michael sold the family business. As he was now financially secure, he decided to go back to university, and restart his aborted studies in archeology. He realized that archeology was what really interested him. He had reached the moment when all the pieces of the puzzle that made up his life were falling into place. He also worked hard on his relationship with his children. As he took these steps, the pendulum of depressive thoughts shifted from despair to hope.
In the field of coaching and therapy, when “Aha!” moments” occur, specific patterns of behavior are illuminated, and at the same time the way to change these patterns becomes clearer. A visible shift occurs in the client. It is as if the brain makes a connection and registers the insight, comparable to flipping a light switch. At these split-second moments in time, I was often able to observe my clients gain new perspectives and understanding of their personal selves, the issues with which they were struggling, and how they were impacting others. “Aha!” moments” are great learning experiences.
Knowledge is power and since most people are not completely aware of the personal challenges they face, awareness needs to take place before behavior change or self-growth can occur. Much preliminary work needs to be done before “Aha!” moments of insight happen. What may seem spontaneous and dramatic is the result of all the work going on behind the scenes. Already more than a century ago, the great scientist Louis Pasteur said, “Chance favors the prepared mind.” He realized that sudden flashes of insight don’t just happen out of the blue but are the product of lengthy periods of preparation. But when a tipping point has been reached, I have seen, over and over again, how a person’s self-limiting beliefs and negative conditioning evaporate. I have witnessed the disappearance of automatic patterns of thinking and behaving that have kept people from living life to its fullest. It is at this point that the person will be willing to consider new hopes and dreams and be prepared to live life with greater authenticity and purpose.
These “light bulb” moments can be compared to an epiphany—a sudden manifestation of the essence or meaning of something that will (or can) contribute to significant change. This intuitive perception of or insight into the reality or essential meaning of something that comes out of the blue, can make deep and lasting healing a real possibility.
Once individual clients understand their problems, they may still need more help to get past former behavior patterns. Insight alone is not enough. They need to learn how to modify their maladaptive behavior into something more constructive. In particular, if they’re caught in a cycle of dysfunctional behavior that’s causing problems for them, even if they begin to know why they’re doing what they are doing, they will be wise to continue to seek help. This is where I, as a whisperer, continue to give assistance—to help them with the steps that lie ahead. And while doing what I am doing, I always keep in mind that whispering is all about the client. It is all about helping clients make choices; to make them realize that they are not passive recipients of whatever life throws at them. Surprisingly enough, the ability to take a proactive stand, to see that they have a choice about their own wellbeing, is an eye opener for many. But when they accept that this is possible, it will have a forceful stress-reducing effect. It’s my hope that through subtle guidance, I will continue to induce my clients to engage in these forms of regression in the service of the ego—while they also appreciate the value of doing nothing.