Vive! Blog

Jackson: a Story of Action Therapy

Jackson was a tall, handsome, athletic kid who had enjoyed star status on Boulder High School's football and track teams for his first three years of high school. Though soft spoken, even shy, he was popular at school and was very proud of his car--a vintage convertible Ford Mustang that his father had restored and give to Jackson as a gift. Jackson loved to roar around Boulder in the Mustang, typically with a group of admiring friends in tow.

School was always a chore for Jackson and by his senior year, extra-curricular activities had eclipsed his efforts to achieve in the classroom. During the first quarter of his senior year, Jackson's grades had slipped to the point that he was kicked off the football team. He was devastated--Jackson had always compensated for his academic struggles through athletic achievement, and now this shield was gone. He would no longer be popular, everyone would know that he was "just a dumb jock, and not even that anymore," and his plans for a brilliant end to his high school career were instantly shattered. He became depressed and refused to attend school, choosing instead to sit at home in front of the television for hours at a time in complete silence. Occasionally he would interrupt the silence with a noisy, destructive explosion of rage--usually when his parents dared to encourage him to go to school, see a counselor, or just talk about what was bothering him. After several minutes of yelling, cursing and breaking things, he would just as suddenly retreat again into a dark silence.

Jackson's parents, Darla and Jose Rodriguez, were at a loss as to what to do with their son. Darla, an emergency room nurse, and Jose, an attorney in private practice, had never put undue pressure on Jackson to achieve academically, but clearly Jackson felt pressure from somewhere and a great sense of failure at his underachievement. Jackson was adopted as an infant and seemed to feel more and more isolated within his family of high achievers--including an older brother who was attending the University of Denver and a younger sister who was an academic whiz. With the help of an educational consultant, arrangements were made to send Jackson to a therapeutic boarding school in Utah. His size combined with some bursts of rage in the new school, however, convinced the director that Jackson posed too much of a risk to other students; after only three weeks at the school, Jackson was expelled. Back at home and ruling the TV room once again, Jackson's parents were desperate for a change, and so was he. "I couldn't even make it in a therapeutic school," Jackson later said. "I couldn't figure out how I had gotten to this point, and I definitely couldn't figure my way out of it. Man, I felt like such a loser; I guess I bottomed out."

When Darla, Jose and Jackson arrived in what was then the Confident Living Office (before our change to Vive!), Jackson looked anything but confident. He was this huge handsome kid who carried himself like a giant mouse. He was mumbly, but cooperative and compliant in our meeting; I remember him sighing a lot during that visit--he seemed just exhausted and defeated. But he agreed to give our program a try.

I was Jackson's mentor and I started our relationship by just having him drive me around town in his car. He mentioned an interest in ethnic food, and we agreed that we'd initially build our meetings around this shared passion while we got to know each other. We met for lunch once a week at first and began to compare notes on different meals we shared as if we were restaurant critics. Aside from our periodic meals, however, Jackson continued to spend most of his time on the couch watching television.

Our first meetings with Darla and Jose consisted of identifying what their goals were for this process, and coming to grips with what they could and could not control. They wanted Jackson to return to school to get his diploma but knew from experience that it was hopeless to badger, convince, or cajole him to do so. They were through with these power struggles and afraid of his fits of rage, but did not want to just let him sit on the couch wasting his life and sinking deeper into depression. If he was going to live at home, he had to at least start working and help pay expenses. As a first step, Darla and Jose's parent coach encouraged them to take away Jackson's prized Mustang until he could pay the insurance on it himself. The Mustang was Jackson's prized possession, the last shred of his tattered identity, and possibly the only hook big enough to catch and motivate Jackson to leave the couch.

Jackson's initial response was to panic. "This is impossible! What have my parents done!? How am I supposed to get a job? I've never had a job before." Despite the panic, Jackson was suddenly open, even desperate, to find a job. But he was terrified--his self-esteem was at such a low ebb by this point that the prospect of getting and keeping a job seemed monumental. The focus of our drives, which were now in my car instead of his, shifted from leisurely lunches to a focused search for work--the action therapy was about to begin! By this time, Jackson and I had the beginnings of a relationship. From our simple lunches he knew that I was on his side and, despite his fear, he knew that we wanted the same things--for him to get a job, get his car back, find success again, and feel good about himself. As we passed businesses, I would point out "help wanted" signs, "Hey, look," I said when we passed a local Petsmart, "they're hiring."

We pulled into the Petsmart parking lot, stopped the car, and sat in silence for a moment. "You want to go in and get an application?" I asked. Jackson didn't say anything, but just stared at the dashboard and let out a sigh. I looked over at his giant hands and saw that they were trembling on his lap. "I can go in with you if you want."

"Sure," he said, still not looking at me, trying as best he could to steady his voice and sound casual, "that's fine." He went in, asked for an application while I stood at a distance, and then we returned to the car.

"Great job!" I said, and high-fived him. "One down! Now you just need to fill it out and return it."

"That's cool. Let's do it later," he said, "I'm starving. Maybe we can just have lunch and I'll do it tonight."

Emotionally worn out from his first adventure, Jackson desperately wanted to put off this second task. At this point I pushed him a little, knowing that our relationship was solid enough from all of our driving around and restaurant reviewing to do so. "Let's eat lunch and fill out the application." He agreed, reluctantly. This gave me chance to work with Jackson on describing himself accurately and highlighting his strengths, which he failed to do in his first attempt at filling out the application. After lunch, Jackson turned in his application. We high-fived each other afterwards. We both knew that, given Jackson's tough run over the last many months, this was a big deal.

Jackson was allowing me to help, allowing me to encourage, allowing me to push. These were all by-products of the patient relationship building we did driving around Boulder playing food critics. Without a foundation of trust build over time in an authentic setting, action therapy simply can't work. Now we were at a point where we could engage as partners in solving practical life problems and working through the emotional obstacles that made small tasks seem monumental to Jackson. The practical challenges, and our partnership in tackling them, deepened the content of our conversations and soon we were talking about Jackson's deeper hopes, fears, and feelings. That's Action Therapy--it's the therapeutic equivalent of experiential education, an approach to academic instruction that has proven especially effective for adolescents who struggle in a traditional educational setting (who are often, ironically, some of the brightest and most creative kids).

By this point, Jackson was even comfortable sharing his defeats with me. He didn't get the Petsmart job, or the next job he applied for, or the next. Motivated by his own pain, my encouragement and the Mustang sitting idle in the driveway, Jackson persisted and finally applied for a job that really seemed to fit him. It was a simple job, but one that played to his strengths and personality--stocking and inventory work at an athletic store. He loved sports, but didn't want to have to interact with lots of people. He got the job. Another high five! In all of these interactions, I served as a guide, an encourager, a therapist, a sounding board, a co-strategist and, at times, a prodder. For Action Therapy to work, it's critical to carefully manage the line between mentoring and enabling.

Two weeks later, in one of the funniest exchanges I'd had with Jackson (whose subtle sense of humor was beginning to re-emerge), Jackson gave me a call. By now, the relationship was much more balanced, with Jackson initiating our conversations and meetings much of the time. "Hey Dave," he nearly sang into the phone, "I got my first paycheck!"

"That's awesome!" I yelled.

"What do I do with it!?" He yelled back.

"You put it in your bank account!"

"I don't have one!"

"Let's go get one!"

"Okay!"

On our way to the bank, it was clear to me that Jackson was absolutely thrilled; he was, for the first time I'd ever seen, sitting up as straight as he could in my compact car, beaming, looking large and quite un-mouse-like. This wasn't so hard, he could do it, he was back on track. With his confidence recovered, he was ready to tackle a much bigger personal challenge. "Dave," he said, "I'm ready to go back to school and study for my GED so I can apply for college." This was huge--a sign that Jackson was ready to do battle with his biggest fear of all. Confidence is infectious; once a kid catches it, it can take on a life of its own. The key is starting where the kid really is and moving one patient, small step at a time; once the seeds of confidence sprout, though, they grow wildly. Within days Jackson had his car back and started attending night school; within months Jackson passed his GED and started applying to colleges; he is now attending college, living successfully on his own, and once again playing football.

While this story really is a condensed version of a twelve month twelve month, twisty-turny journey with Jackson, it's a good example of the simplicity and power of Action Therapy. It's simple work in concept, but it's not easy work; Vive! therapists really have to roll up their sleeves dig in in ways that can be uncomfortable and are not typically required in the controlled environments of traditional psychotherapy. But I'd argue that it's well worth the extra work. I have lot's of stories like Jackson's that tell me we're really onto something special at Vive!, not only through our use of Action Therapy, but through all aspects of our approach--the Vive! Dynamic. I'll have plenty of stories in future months to illustrate other aspects of this approach.

Advantages of Action Therapy

Some of the advantages of Action Therapy that are evident in Jackson's story are:

• Confidence is infectious. You have to start where the kid is and move a patient, small step at a time; once the seeds of confidence sprout, though, they grow wildly.


• Action Therapy takes place in the real world where the mentor can observe and gauge the young person's real reactions to real situations--this is the best way to build authentic relationship and gather accurate data that can inform the therapeutic process.


• The young person gets to see his or her mentor respond to real situations too! This is a terrific way to demystify the therapist role and build authentic and mutual trust.


• The mentor and young person are able to co-construct small practical steps in a context that is meaningful (and motivating) to the young person.


• Action Therapy shifts the paradigm from an adult-driven process--which is typically a setup for mistrust and power struggles--to a kid-driven process.


• Action Therapy builds real confidence--there's no coddling and no faking; real confidence like this is solid and permanent because it's build on reality.


• This approach appeals to and leverages a kid's true interests and passions and internal resources.


• This approach is fundamentally respectful of young people; we meet them where they are and work from there, on the assumption that they, too, want their life to work better than it has (that assumption has not been proven wrong yet!)

I hope you've enjoyed reading Jackson's story. Call us to hear more about our unique approach to working with kids; but be prepared to hear some stories!

Warmly,

Dave