No “I” in GROUP: The healing power of counseling in community

Around the Western Slope, the golden quaking aspen show is all but over for 2024. But did you know that aspens continue to grow, even in winter?

You might be surprised to learn that group therapy dynamics are strikingly similar to the ways in which aspen trees engage with one another. Author Jon Mertz paints this eloquent picture of aspens as illustration for growth and support in community:

“By their nature, Aspens are not a solitary tree. Their roots spread below the earth’s surface and spring to life others to form a group. Aspens grow as a community; they are interconnected by their roots and share nutrients and resources to support each other.”

For some, the idea of attending “group” sounds no less terrifying than inching across the Black Canyon on a tightrope. For the many folks raised in boot-strap culture (“That’s private; keep it to yourself. Suck it up . . . ”), the idea of exposing their personal struggles—let alone sharing them with others—is simply foreign. Intimidating. Ridiculous, even.

Reader, I am passionate about groups. Groups are the bomb dot com. Individual therapy is great, but group counseling is a mind-blowlingly powerful vehicle for transformation and healing.

Group counseling was transformational for me early in my healing journey back in my twenties in Denver. The work we did together as a group, and the steadfast support and wisdom gained from my group-mates and our therapist, made an enduring impact in my life.

But before I get personal, let’s get clinical.

Psychiatrist, writer, and lecturer Dr. Irvin Yalom is renowned for his contributions to the theory and practice of group therapy. You could say he wrote the book on group therapy. Yalom identified eleven therapeutic factors of group work:

Instillation of hope, universality, imparting of information, altruism, simulation of the primary family roles, development of social skills, imitative behavior; interpersonal learning (modeling, vicarious learning); group cohesiveness (belonging); catharsis; and existential factors (members learn to take responsible for the quality of their lives).

Continued research suggests four additional curative factors of group therapy—self-esteem, turning point, resilience, and epidemic trust.

Women from past groups I’ve led have blossomed in the warm glow of belonging and universality (“I’m not the only one who has experienced this challenge/problem/sadness/emotional response?!”). And I agree: experiencing the healing, validating sense of “I’m not alone in this” is worth the price of admission. But it gets even better!

It is awe-inspiring to witness universality and vicarious learning in action, when group members grow simply by observing themselves and their lives in the stories of the other members. The shyest of members gain much from group through vicarious learning, though ideally they do reach a point of comfort and do open up, at their pace.

The thawing, the realizations, the confidence taking root—it is all a wonder to behold, but especially to experience personally.

During my years in group therapy, the healing was miraculous. It was a process, and we were all in. And oof, were we an unlikely collection of humans: a middle-aged hospital internist, separated from his wife of 30 years; a sweet 40-year-old nurse recovering from a psychologically abusive divorce; a single woman struggling with family trauma and self-hatred; a dude (30?) emotionally blunted by years of THC use, marriage crumbling as a result; a 30-something vet knotted up with PTSD; and me, a broken 25-year-old woman healing from a childhood trauma and trying to pick up the pieces of self-destructive choices. It was the best of times, it was the worst . . .

I began group as a ball of shame, insecurity, anxiety, and worthlessness. Over time and with commitment to the process, the Lord used this rag-tag secular group to soften and bolster me, to forgive myself and others, to notice and correct my dysfunctional habits, to individuate from my family of origin, and to learn new ways of operating in the world.

Especially transformational was simulation—processing how I was groomed to show up in my family of origin as the youngest of four in a chaotic home. My parents did the best they could and were wonderful in so many ways. I never doubted that I was loved.

But our family dynamics do tend to shape our self-concept, habits, reactions, and attachment and interpersonal styles. Child-Beth took on passivity, fear, and people-pleasing, a cloak that fit for a while, until it didn’t. It squeezed me in ways that led to poor choices made from a well of pain and confusion. Childhood roles and experiences trained me to react out of trauma responses and skewed self-concept, begetting more chaos. I was shaped to be inauthentic.

In group I learned to identify and validate feelings, to set boundaries, and to communicate more clearly, with more assertiveness. I gained self-awareness that enabled me to live congruently with my true self and my core beliefs, and to make decisions and show up as my authentic self. I truly became a new creation.

Certainly in the decades since my twenties I have made missteps and mistakes—so many opportunities to grow from and remember to intentionally shed those old broken impulses.

Group therapy tor the win!

But in that safe little transitory island of misfit toys, my dear group, we all supported one another, saw in one another our own opportunities for growth, accepted responsibility, and discovered and corrected maladaptive patterns, attitudes, beliefs, and behaviors. Together, through time and effort and mutual trust, we grew and healed—alongside, for, with, and through one another, with the guidance of our exceptionally skillful therapist.

And consider Mertz’s aspen trees: “Underneath, they are survivors. An Aspen’s roots can remain dormant for years. At the right time, they jump to life and re-generate as a community. Aspens have strength and durability, unseen by many.”

Jump to life. Re-generate as a community. Dare to drink in nutrients to feed your roots. And imagine your Spring—your vivid green leaves dancing in the sunlight . . .

Consider joining a group.