Last month in sessions, I almost cried twice. One of those times was during a parent-child/family session. My main client was a very young child of kindergarten age who could not sit still and often became distracted during sessions. Initially, the child kept watching their father’s reactions to see if it was okay to fidget in their chair. In previous family sessions, the father had realized that his own emotions of anger were frightening the child, so he dared not look at them or give them any eye contact, instead choosing to looking at the ground awkwardly. This led the child to assume that their father tacitly approved of their behaviour, so they began to fidget, which started to annoy the father but who did not dare to show it. Seeing this, I paused the session plans I had prepared originally and invited the child to sit on their father’s lap to facilitate a conversation.
The father expressed disappointment in the child’s behaviours for not taking the session seriously. Upon hearing their father’s expression, the child responded by acknowledging his disappointment, but then quickly looked up at the ceiling and mentioned that they wanted to talk to their younger brother before coming here, but their brother did not want to talk. After saying this, the child quickly changed the subject, suddenly mentioning that they wanted to go to Science World, but their eyes were still fixed on the ceiling. Seeing this, I gently touched the child’s hand (after obtaining consent) and told them it was okay to cry. As expected, the child burst into tears, which was also the first time they expressed emotions in the office.
Later, I shared my observations with the father, noting his apparent awkwardness and attempt to overcompensate. I pointed out his chid’s sign of learned emotional suppression by gazing up at the ceiling to hold back tears. The father’s reaction was profound: he fell silent, then began to cry, revealing his own struggles with emotional expression, shaped by his upbringing in a traditional Asian family that emphasized endurance and restraint.
This poignant moment resonated deeply with me and almost brought me to tears. I’ve seen many clients grapple with the same cultural and generational patterns, struggling to express emotions and break free from the cycle of repression. It was a powerful reminder of why I became a practitioner: to facilitate emotional connections and vulnerability. This experience reinforced my commitment to creating a safe space for my patients to express themselves, and to helping the next generation embrace emotional vulnerability and break free from the shackles of cultural and generational patterns.
Before my alone time with the father, I had asked the child if they wanted a hug from their father or from me. They replied, “Both!” After getting a huge hug from their father, the child left the room happily. Because the parents had told me that they are not very good at hugging people, I was not expecting them to follow up. However, at the end of the session when we were packing up, the child came up to me and told me that I forgot their hug, then opened their arms wide to ask for one. As the child wrapped their small, warm arms around me, their soft head leaning on my shoulder, I felt a deep sense of warmth and connection – a reminder that these moments make all the challenges so very much worthwhile 🙂