When the personal and professional collide

I am sitting on the carpet, my spine curved into a C shape as my shoulder blades rest uncomfortably on the wall behind. My legs are bent up in front of my chest and a laptop is balanced precariously on my knees, so that the screen is level with my head. The child pictured on the monitor tilts suddenly as a gust of wind from the open window threatens to upend him. I hastily reach to settle the computer and draw my attention back to the child’s play, his unconcerned laughter masking any awareness he might have had that I was about to disappear.

Like many other people all over the world, I am currently working from home. As a result, my home life and working world have become disconcertingly intertwined and the once clear boundaries between them have become blurred and opaque. The place where I live, love and unwind is now also the place where I treat, advocate, supervise and consult. The unconventional seating position above, therefore, was an inelegant attempt to replicate the neutrality of a clinic therapy room. It’s the only way that I can appear on video calls in front of an impersonal wall, rather than exposing my penchants for expensive candles, travel magazines and plants that I can’t keep alive. 

For many of us our home is our safe space, our sanctuary from the uncertainty and messiness of the outside world. It’s where the personal, intimate sides of our personalities that otherwise would have interfered with professional tasks, can come alive. It’s the space where we can be wholly ourselves, unencumbered by social norms and the gaze of others. Somewhere we share with the people we love and fill with items that reflect who we are, where we have been, what we want. Yet now, for lots of us, that refuge is being invaded. Those neatly constructed walls are dissolving and suddenly our private lives have become vulnerable to the stresses and strains of work.

I am aware of this happening to me. Sometimes when I meet with a client who has a particularly difficult story, I find that it stays with me long after the session. But now there is no office to depart and no commute during which to decompress, I find that it’s even harder to leave my clients’ lives for a while and focus on my own. I know too that, much as this is difficult for me, I am also asking a lot of them. By arranging video calls (with consent, of course), I am inserting myself into their sanctuaries also. Whereas once clients could bare themselves safely in a separate, contained space, they now risk tarnishing the comfort of their home with the demands and turbulence of the therapeutic process. They also face a virtual therapist who somehow materialises onscreen at the allotted time instead of greeting them as a solid, physical being. 

This arrangement feels more precarious to me, not just because of my flawed office set up, but also because of temperamental internet connections, inevitable interruptions from clients’ family members/pets/door bells and, as my younger clients have gleefully discovered, the notion that one of us can disappear from the other’s view with the touch of a button. A very wise colleague once told me that when people talk about a therapeutic alliance, what they really mean is trust: trust that your therapist is both interested enough to listen to your pain and skilled enough to help you with it. I wonder how my client’s trust in me would be affected if they had a wider window into my home, my inner world, those plants that have failed to thrive in my care? The difference between client and therapist is often one of labels, after all. We do not inhabit separate groups, immune to the other’s condition.

All of this means that I am focussing much more on relationships now, not only with clients but with friends, family and my relationship with me too. Basic strategies to enhance the therapeutic alliance can support personal relationships as well, like being consistent and reliable, empathising, showing genuine interest in peoples’ stories and refraining from judgement. I am even learning to extend these courtesies to myself and find ways to re-introduce separation between my working and private lives. I do basic, practical things, like trying to be consistent in my professional routines, environment and dress. I protect my personal life from clients’ view and preserve my free time by placing work paraphernalia out of sight. 

Sometimes a more introspective approach is useful too, reflective activities that can help me commute psychologically from work to home. Art therapy exercises, diary writing, physical activity, mindfulness, it’s these activities that liberate me from the emotions and stresses of the working day and enable me to enjoy the evening ahead. 

My hope, then, for all the other workers at home in this lockdown is that you too can find ways of keeping well when the personal and professional collide, because it’s only then that we have a chance of being at our best for everyone. For our clients and colleagues, who deserve our full effort and thinking capacities. For our family and friends, who deserve our undivided attention and presence. And for ourselves, who we often neglect.