Case Study

Hannah’s anxiety sometimes made her react to people in a slightly odd way which in turn meant that many in her community wanted to avoid her. This exacerbated the anxiety and caused a vicious circle that left her somewhat isolated. Hannah’s husband worked long hours and was often away. She talked of the need to “hold herself together,” in case she “fell apart.” I took the pattern of her anxiety and the metaphor that she’d used and weaved it into the following story:

Little Pot

There was once a small pot that was made carefully and lovingly by a potter who always made each one unique. The pot was formed with such care and attention to its shape and symmetry that she was left in no doubt that she was very special. She enjoyed the caress of the potter’s hands on her sides. When formed, the pot was placed on a shelf before glazing.
    From the moment the potter came to glaze the pot, he talked to her, making her feel as if she was involved in choosing the glaze and the finish. 
    The pot was carefully put on the side before to await firing in the kiln. It was then that the trouble started. The other pots jostled for space and nearly knocked her to the floor. Next they criticised her, saying that her glaze was not good enough. The little pot grew anxious, especially when they said she had an air bubble in her side. Our pot didn’t know whether this was true, but she remained silent while the other pots found faults with her. They told her that she might be rejected and thrown into the bin. The little pot grew anxious and wary. She imagined what it must feel like to be thrown out with the rubbish. That would make her rubbish. Next they criticised her size and told her that she was so small, she would probably explode into a thousand pieces in the kiln and then she’d be no use to anyone.
    The time came for all the pots to be loaded into the kiln. The temperature was so hot, that they fell silent. It became intensely hot and frightening. The little pot felt sure she would explode any minute into pieces and then she would be no more. She remembered the voices of the other pots and imagined the explosion. How could she prevent it? She tried to hold herself together, tensing every part she could. Just when she thought she couldn’t hold on another second, she recalled the feel of the potter’s hands holding her and remembered the way the potter had talked, cared and looked at her. At that moment she knew that she was complete and whole and always had been. She let go of her fears and came out of the kiln perfectly formed.
    The potter was so pleased with the little pot that he put her on a special shelf in the pottery. And she is still there, keeping an eye open for the new pots to reassure them if they need it.

In psychotherapy stories are not the only tool in the tool box but they can have a powerful effect.  (This story is in Tales to be Told)