Why it was hard for me to participate in this year's social media advocacy month

One of the things that doesn't get talked about enough when you're on your way to becoming a music therapist is how deflating it can be to have to define, to defend, to prove your work almost every single day for the rest of your music therapy life.

I need to admit to you (because I think it's important to say it out loud, because I truly believe that looking at the challenges means finding a way to get through them or at least come to terms with them): I am weary - bone weary - of advocating for music therapy right now. Will I still do it? Yes, probably I will. Do I still believe in what I do? Absolutely! Do I think I make a difference in my clients' lives? God, I hope so! I know they make a difference in mine. Am I still learning about music therapy? Always. 

But am I sick to death of explaining and re-explaining, and re-re-explaining what I do to people who already "know" what I do? Who incessantly belittle and demean my work (and, by extension, my clients' efforts)? Who still, after 27 years of this, see me as "the entertainment," treating me like a radio that nobody's really listening to anyway? Damn skippy! 

Today's comment: "No offense or anything, Roia, but I think having gross motor and music out at the pool is more beneficial for the guys than just listening to music with you..." (hmm, now how could that possibly be offensive to me?). This came from a co-worker who arrives in the middle of our Community Music Group, starts yelling out names (with a quick "oh, sorry, Roia"), bustling people into coats, and taking out the majority of the group to go to another activity. Nice.

I've had bosses who've said (and I'm quoting here), "Roia, I honestly don't see how what you do is any different from someone putting a CD in a CD player," interrupting my invitation to come and observe a session with "I'm afraid we're just going to have to agree to disagree, because we have different views on this." I guess getting that Master's degree was an insane waste of time, money, and effort. Oh, and probably the twenty years of paying for clinical supervision (and a whole lot of other trainings outside of music therapy), learning everything I could about disabilities and psychotherapy and figuring out ways to make sense of all of this so I can offer my clients a form of music therapy that hardly anybody else really does...that was probably a bit of overkill.

It's hard when many of your professional colleagues think that all you're doing is "playing nice music for people." It's hard to listen to support staff tell you they don't like the music you're playing and that you're not doing music therapy "right."

The bottom line here is this: if you're going to be a music therapist (and I really want you to be), it's important to love what you do and believe in what you're providing to your clients with every fiber in your body. It's important to make music, to get clinical supervision, to get your own therapy, to have an amazing support system of people who love, respect and believe in you and in the work that you do. Because you will run into these people. And you're good and likely to feel squashed sometimes.

Being a music therapist is hard work, especially when you're trying to find a way to musically sit with people who are struggling, whose lives aren't going the way they wish they would, who are in pain, who are frightened, who throw instruments at you, who scratch your face, who are disorganized, who feel powerless, who are grieving, who are dying....All of this is hard to do. But we do it, because we know - deep in our souls we know - that the experience of being together in music means something, the musical and human relationships we painstakingly develop with people who've had chronic trauma, who've been discriminated against in every way imaginable (and in many ways we don't even have a clue about) means something.

So what the heck am I saying anyway? I guess what I'm trying to say is I've advocated until I'm blue in the face. Oh, I'll advocate when someone really cares to listen. Until then, I'm keeping my focus on helping the people whose understanding of music therapy is most important to me, and that's my clients.  

5 Reasons Why You Need To Process in Music Therapy

I was off listening to a terrific podcast on processing over at the Music Therapy Round Table (and I highly recommend you go over and give them a good, solid listen). Well, I wanted to make a comment, but it turned out to be, like, six paragraphs, so, um, I figured I'd better head back to my own blog home and write it all out here and link it back to the hardworking Round Table folks: Kimberly Sena Moore, Rachel Rambach, Michelle Erfurt, and Matt Logan! 

As Michelle mentioned (either in the Round Table podcast or the Music Therapy Pro podcast), this business of processing (especially in clinical supervision) is kind of my "thing" (which makes it all sound a little...suspect) (but, really, it's not). I mean, if we're going to be honest (and I think we must), this whole blog is about me processing my experiences as a music therapist. 

I'm determined (determined, I say!) to convince the  music therapy world that we need to make processing a regular part of our work routine. And, yes, I'm sure I've probably said all this before, but I'm saying it again. And this time I'm going to try to be more succinct (stop snickering, I can do this). Okay. Here goes:

5 Reasons Why You Need to Process in Music Therapy:   

1. Processing helps you move your work to a deeper level.

Put simply: processing helps you move beyond observation to trying to understand what you’re seeing, experiencing, hearing, noticing in a session. Matt Logan wisely pointed out that a part of processing is looking at the relationships between the therapist, the client(s) and the music. It's so easy to get caught up in “what do I do? What should I do next?” and completely forget to look at what’s there in the session in a deeper way.

 2. It helps you gain a better understanding of what you're doing and why. 

Thinking through your sessions and trying to understand what happened in your sessions helps you get a stronger grip on the ever-present question:

 What is music therapy?

The longer you practice, the more your understanding of the work you do evolves and your answers to that question change and grow more meaningful. Processing asks you to consider: what is the role of music in my work? What is therapy? Who are the people I'm supporting? 

The more deeply you understand your work the better able you are to communicate why a client, a facility, an organization, a state, a country, the world needs music therapy.  

3. We all have feelings about our clients, and it's important to consider their impact on the therapy process. 

You have feelings about your clients, I have feelings about my clients. It's a normal part of therapy called countertransference. It doesn't matter who you work with (infants right on up through elders) and it doesn't matter how long you've been working and it doesn't even matter what approach you use. It's all part of the process. 

And the things is: just because you aren't necessarily having strong feelings or reactions you might think of as being "negative" (sad, angry, frustrated) it doesn't mean that your feelings aren't getting in the way of your clients' growth. Of course, I'm not saying that they are - just inviting your awareness that they have the potential to do so. 

I'll use myself as an example:

When I pause and reflect on the folks who are in my caseload, I notice there are some clients who stick with me all the time, because the work with them is difficult (or because they appeal to me in some particular way), there are some folks who I avoid thinking about, some who I forget about entirely, and some whose sessions I truly enjoy. 

Processing helps me step back and look at the larger picture of what’s happening. Otherwise, I can easily get bogged down in the "session notes version" of things (you know...what happened first, then what happened) and never move beyond it. 

Processing means I start to be curious and ask questions: 

Hm, why do some of my clients appeal to me more than others? Why do some not? What is it about some people that makes me completely forget about them until I see them in a session? Why is a particular client frustrating me so much? What's my role in this? Is s/he reminding me of someone else in my life? Is my complete joy in working with a particular group of clients making it hard for them to explore feelings of anger they may be feeling toward me (whether it's about me or not)? Is my discomfort about a specific topic obvious to my clients to the point that they're they avoiding looking at it to "please" or protect me? 

4. Processing helps you realize that music therapy doesn’t usually happen in one single session 

Well, okay, depending on where you provide services, sometimes it does. In general, though, processing helps you start to put things together (from one session to the next, over a period of time of working with someone, etc.). If you’re someone who tends to use an activity/therapeutic music experience approach, it’s important to think about what’s going on from moment to moment in a session that you might not have thought to look at. A process paper can help you do this and encourages you to ask questions, such as:

What happened? What patterns am I noticing in our sessions?  Then you move on to: What was I hoping to do with this particular person/group? How did it go? What do I think about that? 

5. Processing with a clinical supervisor helps you see your blindspots.

You don’t see your blindspots. That’s why they’re called blindspots. You don’t know what you don’t know! And, like anybody else, you don’t think to ask yourself something you wouldn’t have thought or known to ask yourself.

And that's okay! That's why there's such a thing called professional clinical supervision!  Yaaay!

Processing with a clinical supervisor helps you begin to see things you might not have looked at before. It doesn't mean you're a bad therapist. It just means that having an extra set of eyes and ears (who happen to have more experience) will help you think about things you hadn't thought to think about before. (Shout out to Michelle Erfurt for your great point that you didn’t really look at stuff to the extent you did until you had supervision!)

So, lovely music therapists: What new and unexpected thoughts are you thinking about your clients and about your work? 

Celebrating National Psychotherapy Day

It's National Psychotherapy Day today- the first one ever- and I'll be celebrating by heading, just as I do every other week, to my therapist's office. Why? Because I firmly believe getting my own therapy is an important part of my job as a music  therapist. 

Knowing who I am and what kind of emotional baggage I'm carrying around with me helps me be present and attentive to the clients I serve when I show up to provide music therapy.

When my clients do their best to avoid hearing me invite them to look at a belief they're strongly committed to (sometimes even going so far as to literally stick their fingers in their ears), when they fall asleep mid-session because something we're addressing feels way too overwhelming, when they fight mightily against change...I have a pretty good idea of what it's like. I've felt and done the same (okay, maybe I don't actually stick my fingers in my ears or fall asleep in therapy, but I can be pretty darned noisy if I don't want to know something). 

I'll be honest with you: I am uncomfortable recommending any music therapist I know who hasn't spent at least some time looking at his/her own issues in therapy. I mean, what are we communicating to our clients if we think we're above getting our own therapy? If we, essentially, perpetuate the attitude of stigmatization associated with taking care of one's emotional and mental health? 

One of the (many) reasons I loved the HBO show In Treatment was that the writers made sure the therapist, Paul Weston, went (even though he was kicking and screaming the whole way and was more of a pain in his own sessions than any of his clients ever were in theirs)  for his own therapy! 

Psychotherapy for therapists goes beyond the usual nice, self-care sorts of things we tend to talk about in music therapy circles (you know...the whole getting a massage, taking regular vacations, taking a bubble bath and the like). It's an ongoing commitment to self-discovery, a recognition that, yes, we can and do get in our own (as well as our clients') ways, and figuring out how to (much as we may bravely resist) make changes in our perceptions and ideas about our selves, our lives, and our relationships. 

So, good people, with a grateful nod to Ryan Howes (a blogging buddy who shares his insights over at the Psychology Today blogs as well as being a contributing editor at the Psychotherapy Networker), I invite you to consider how you might join in the acknowledgement and celebration of National Psychotherapy Day. 

After all, mental health and self-awareness are most certainly worthy of celebration!

What do I (think I) know?

Gosh, it's been an absolute age since I posted. Ack! Hopefully you're all wondering what the heck is going on, and asking yourselves, "where in Pete has that girl been!?"


So, here's the scoop: this has been the summer of ailments (and, evidently, I forgot to mark it on my calendar). No, really. It's been a little bit ridiculous. 


Since April, I've caught two colds (I hardly ever get sick), one monster case of allergies that led to never-ending coughing and ended up requiring two asthma inhalers (I don't have asthma), and, just because life wasn't going to be complete without it, I've been limping (very painfully) around for four solid weeks with my backside, hip, thigh, and knee out of whack. 


Honestly! Is this truly necessary? 


I say all this to you, not just to whine and kvetch about it (because, I mean, who would I be without my whining and kvetching?), but because getting around with extreme pain (it's finally starting to settle down somewhat, thank goodness) has forced me into an awareness I've never had before.


I'm ashamed to admit to you how completely ignorant I've been of this fact: There are a lot of people walking around in constant and terrible pain. They're not complaining and carrying on (like I am). They just go about their business and do what they've got to do. In pain. 


It's one thing to get this on an intellectual level (and, of course, I've always understood this on an intellectual level), but that doesn't mean anything. 


Sure, I've seen my dear friend get to a point where she's had to walk around with a cane (and only for very short distances) because she has extremely painful knees. I always known that she's in pain most of the time, but until recently I'd only understood it on a peripheral level. 


Until I experienced what it's like to be absolutely unable to get from point A to point B (forget the fact that moving made me want to scream and/or cry)...I had no clue. 


Do I have a point I'm trying to make here? Well, yes, I think so.


I'm realizing (yet again) how important it is for me to question some of the things (maybe many of the things) I think I "know". Because a lot of the time...I really don't. Often, all I have is some vague idea in my mind about what someone's experience is- whether the person's in pain, has a serious illness, comes from a culture or ideology different from mine, has some sort of a label (whether s/he wants that label or not), is socially ostracized...The list goes on indefinitely, as you can imagine.


I am struck by how limited I am in my understanding of what any of these things actually mean in terms of a person's life and how it affects who the person is and how they relate to other people and to the world.


In short, I am, yet again, astonished by how much I just don't know. And, more to the point, how much I'm not even aware I don't know. And I have to ask myself: as a music therapist, what are the things I think I know? And how willing am I to find out my assumption(s) may be incorrect? 

10 thoughts about music therapy advocacy- Part 2

I'm thinking that it might be helpful to know where I'm coming from in terms of music therapy advocacy as I share this list of thoughts with you. After all, you may be wondering what the heck qualifies me to preach at you about becoming an advocate? Here are some of the things I've done over the past twenty-three or so years:


During my time as a music therapist I have spent a lot of years as an active member of my state organization, the New Jersey Association for  Music Therapy (NJAMT). I was originally asked to join the board because I was a member of the former American Association for Music Therapy (yes, back then there used to be two associations, and they merged in 1998). I continued to serve, becoming Secretary, Treasurer, President, Newsletter Editor and ending as Public Relations co-chair. I am no longer active as a board/committee member, but I maintain my connection to NJAMT as the listserv coordinator. 


While I was President of NJAMT I also served on the NJCATA board (that would be the New Jersey Coalition of Arts Therapies Associations) as the music therapy representative for a period of time. I've helped to organize Music Therapy Day in New Jersey (which we have been holding in Trenton in the State House), and we organized a celebration of  30 years of music therapy at the facility where I work. 


As a performing singer/songwriter, I've talked about music therapy when I've had gigs, and I regularly find myself engaged in conversations about "what is music therapy" when I meet new people. These days I share stories about my work with you, kind readers. 


So. Yes. I've spent a good portion of my music therapy life advocating. I feel strongly about the work I do, and I care a great deal about the people I work for, namely my clients. With that in mind, here are my thoughts about what is helpful as we learn to become advocates:


1. Connect with other music therapists. Join a peer supervision group, connect through various social media outlets on the internet, or simply get to know the music therapists in your geographic area. I'm lucky. New Jersey has a lot of music therapists, and we have a fairly strong community, but we work at it, because it's important to us. Doing this type of work with a group of like-minded people standing next to you is a lot easier.


2. Know who you are and what it means to you to be a music therapist. It's very hard to advocate for yourself and for your clients if you don't know who you are professionally and why what you're doing is important. Really work at developing an identity for yourself as a music therapist. And I don't mean branding (although at some point that's important as well). What I mean is figure out your beliefs: about music, therapy, about what works for you and what doesn't, your approach, and hone your skills.


3. Be really good at what you do. By this I mean, find yourself a clinical supervisor. Yes, I know I sound like a broken record, but it's that important and that helpful. If you decide to get peer supervision instead, challenge yourself to go deeper- even if it means getting your own therapy- music therapy if you can. Look at your own issues. Figure out what issues and blocks come up for you when you're providing music therapy services, and work on them. This makes you accountable. 


4. Learn everything you can about the population with whom you're working.  Try to get as deep an understanding of the group of people you work with every day, and, as much as possible, try to learn from the people who experience the condition/illness/life experience. Learn what the issues are from their perspective, and then make a point of figuring out why music therapy is important for this particular group of people. When you have an idea of what someone's actual lived experience is like, you will be a more respectful and effective music therapist. And, by extension, you'll be a more effective advocate for your services (to people who may want to use your services, to facilities that may hire you, and, eventually, to legislators). 


5. Chat with people about music therapy. If you're a performing musician, you have a perfect forum for talking about music therapy (and sometimes a captive audience). Talk about what you do to high school students who are musicians. Tell people what you do when you're getting your hair cut. I mean, really. The possibilities are endless.


6. Answer questions about music therapy. Because I have a website or two, I get a lot of emails from high school and college students who are writing papers about music therapy. Do your best to be helpful. Sometimes people I've met (or relatives of people I've met) are considering the possibility of becoming music therapists. If they live nearby, invite them to come and observe you in your work (get permission from your clients/facility first, of course). 


7. If your state has a music therapy organization, join/volunteer. If not, start one. True, it's been a while since I was a very active member of NJAMT, but it was, and continues to be, one of the best decisions I made as a music therapist. It helped me to develop my skills as a leader, as a public speaker, as an organizer. It connected me with a lot of really great people, and it gave me a sense of being a part of something (which can be important, especially if you happen to be the only music therapist at your facility). It gave me the opportunity to do a lot of things I didn't think I could ever do. Your state organization keeps you up-to-date on what's happening with regard to legislation and can provide you with training so you know how to go and talk to your elected officials about music therapy.  They can be a resource for jobs in your state (or in a state in which you might want to relocate). 


8. Don't burn yourself out on advocacy. This may sound like kind of a strange thing to say after a big long pep talk, but it can happen. You can be all gung-ho for a long time, and it's great when you can do that! But you can just as easily burn yourself out without noticing it. And that's no good for anyone. So make sure that you have a life outside of music therapy as well. One of the best pieces of advice I got was when I observed my first music therapist ever. She said to make sure you always have somewhere to play your own music. Cultivate the many other things you love to do- cooking, hiking, reading, kayaking, sky diving...whatever excites you and lets you have your own personal identity as well. 


9. Sometimes in spite of your best advocacy efforts, things don't go as you hoped. It's the truth. Being a music therapist can sometimes be very frustrating. One of the most devastating experiences for me was spending twenty years at my job talking about music therapy, doing presentations for administrators, making sure people had information about what a qualified music therapist is, what skills we have, what training we have, and on and on. And one day, one of the other departments decided to hire a person who is not trained as a music therapist to work in a music therapy title and to "do music" with our clients. And there wasn't a blessed thing I could do about it. (Mercifully, the guy is really cool and never calls what he does music therapy, but that doesn't mean that the rest of the staff understands that he's not a music therapist.) It's important for you to know: it happens. It happens a lot. And when it does (because it will), you go back to the support system you've developed. You re-connect with the community of fellow music therapists and allies. Because you will need them. 


10. In spite of it all, love what you do. Celebrate when your clients take little and big steps. Theirs are the faces you'll see in your mind as you tell people what it is you do. Feel a passion for getting to be someone who gets to connect with people and who uses and plays music for a living. Because that is living. 


And, ultimately, that's what it's all about!

So you want to become a music therapist...

Image by doug88888 via FlickrI, rather regularly, receive emails and blog comments from people who are interested in becoming music therapists.  And I regularly send back big, long emails with information I hope they'll find to be useful. Well, suddenly, one of my slower neurons fired, and I thought, "why on earth haven't you written a blog with this advice in it, so you don't have to keep repeating yourself?!" 


Somewhere a dog barked. 


Aaaand, we're back.


Okay. So you want to become a music therapist. Fabulous! And you want to know what it will take, what kind of advice I can offer, whether you'll ever have an actual salary, what to write for that research paper that's due in 13 hours...and so forth.


(Stand back. I'm about to jump into list-making land.) (Actually, even though my blog posts aren't usually in list form, I have a deep and abiding love of lists.) (But I digress.)


1. It helps to be a fairly good musician.That said, it also helps if you learn to play guitar and piano.
Different schools that offer music therapy as a major have different requirements. I think, ultimately, the more skill you have as a musician, the more you have to offer your clients. If you're busy focusing on yourself trying to play a song or a particular instrument, you're no longer focusing on your client, and that sort of defeats the whole purpose of therapy. You know? You don't have to know how to play guitar and piano before you go to school, because that is part of the music therapy curriculum. Those are, however, two instruments that are used an awful lot in the course of a music therapist's day/week/life, so it's worth getting to a point where you're relatively comfortable with them.


2. And, while you're at it, get comfortable with using your voice.
When I first started out as a music therapist I was really shy, and I found it difficult to sing in front of anyone. Mercifully, I managed to move beyond that. We don't have to be brilliant singers, but it's important to carry a tune and be comfortable improvising and playing around with vocal sounds. I still remember a client I worked with who tore up an entire room and threw my entire music cart on the floor. For a good solid year I had to go and do his sessions with nothing but me and my voice. 


3. Be careful of your "helpful" intentions. 
When you're trying to figure out what you want to do with your life, it's not unusual to think, "you know, I really want to do something that helps people." We all have our reasons for wanting to somehow be useful in this world, and they're all valid and important. When we come to a profession like music therapy, though, I think it's important to be mindful of the various implications of being "helpful" (in terms of power, control, what it means to be "the helped", etc.). Because Norman Kunc and Emma van der Klift said it a lot better already, I  highly recommend reading their article, "Hell-Bent on Helping: Benevolence, Friendship, and the Politics of Help". It will, I hope, give you a whole new perspective on being "helpful".


4. Learn to pay close attention. Notice stuff.  
So much of my job is about paying attention. Whenever I have students come to do their practicum experiences with me, I have them fill out an observation form that I developed. It's an insanely complicated form, because in a music therapy session there is so much going on at any given moment and on so many levels. You have to be aware of your client (s), the music, yourself, the environment, the history...there's a lot of stuff happening. This is what makes music therapy so completely fascinating! You can practice at an activity level and be quite effective, and you can also decide that you want to go deeper and explore the therapy relationship, the dynamics within it, and how it's all expressed within the music, and that's really nifty as well! 


5. Expect that this will be a life-long learning experience. 
Music therapy is a growing and evolving field. Because there's so much to know (and you can't cram it all in at school!), so much to pay attention to, and because you can work at a lot of different levels, there's always something new you can be learning. For that reason, getting professional clinical supervision in music therapy after you've graduated is extremely helpful to your growth as a new clinician. Moreover, there are lots of trainings that music therapists can take to deepen their knowledge/skill in specific areas (GIM, Nordoff-Robbins Music Therapy, Neurologic Music Therapy, NICU Music Therapy, Hospice Music Therapy, Austin Vocal Psychotherapy, and I'm sure there'll be more sooner or later). 


6. Get used to advocating for yourself. 
Music therapy isn't the huge mystery it once was. These days when I say I'm a music therapist, people are way less likely to say "a what?!" than they were back when I first started out. Now I'm usually greeted with something along the lines of "oh, how cool!" As nice as that is, people often think they know what we do, but they really don't. Co-workers who've known us for years may still not have a clear idea of what happens in a session. I'l be straight with you: It can be quite frustrating when you see that someone who hasn't gone through the years of training you have is calling him/herself a music therapist (or being called one by the media). It can be even more challenging when supervisors, colleagues, and various other people/organizations who fund our services (who aren't music therapists) feel compelled to tell us how we should do our job.  Having said that, I would still maintain (and I think my music therapy colleagues would agree) that being a music therapist still far outweighs the difficult stuff. 


7. You'll need to figure out a semi-quick way to explain what it is you do for a living. 
Given that you'll have to spend some time advocating for yourself and showing people what music therapy is, it's important to have your "elevator speech" prepared shortly after you graduate from your program. I usually tell people I use music to listen to people. That usually makes them curious enough to want to know more. Then, depending on how much time they're willing/able to spend, I can expound until they're sick of me. Ahem.  


8. It's not likely you'll be rich beyond your wildest dreams, but you can definitely make a living as a music therapist.
A few months ago, our Rabbi at work asked me, as nicely as he could, on behalf of one of his congregants, "can music therapists make a living doing this work?" I assured him that we could. We can find jobs (we've been doing a lot of advocating- trust me), we can get health benefits, and we can make enough money to live peacefully. We'll never get the kind of money that, say, a computer programmer or a financial analyst would make, but most of us aren't starving. And if this is truly what you want to do, then you should do it. [2024 Update: Having written this some time ago, I want to acknowledge that these days it may be a bit more of a challenge, given the financial realities of the current day. And a lot of younger music therapists have expressed dismay when they can't find full-time jobs, they can't afford housing, and they are often expected to have a Master's degree. This is decidedly problematic, and I will not deny the situation can be quite frustrating. At the same time, there are also a LOT more music therapist-owned businesses, and people are actually familiar with music therapy (or know a music therapist) (of have had their own music therapist) (or have at least heard of it). So, I believe, still, with some flexibility, you'll probably be able to find a job. It may not be where you hoped/expected to work, but it may end up being the right place. Or, like many people do nowadays, you can get some experience and move to an employment situation that feels more in line with who you are.]


9. Get used to not knowing what's going on and sometimes being uncomfortable or awkward. Or at least come to terms with it. 
I would have to say that it's rarely dull being a music therapist. Sometimes your clients will do unexpected sorts of things, or you'll find yourself dealing with really uncomfortable feelings. And sometimes you can go for a really long time and not be at all sure you're on the right track with a client/group. Again, this is what makes this work so fascinating and so completely worthwhile! It's difficult when your own issues are triggered, but, heck! Your issues will be triggered no matter what you do. You may as well have an interesting job within which to notice them. 


10. Consider getting your own therapy (or your own music therapy, if you can). 
Being a therapist is hard work. Being a client is also hard work. If you've never gone through  your own therapy, and if you've never struggled in a big way with your own problems and emotional baggage, it will be hard for you to have a real understanding of what it's like to see yourself in a new way (which is not always a pleasant experience at first). Making changes in our lives is something most of us resist mightily. Looking at our resistance- ugh! It's not always fun. It's a long, bumpy road. And we ask our clients every day to allow us to stumble along that bumpy road with them. We owe it to ourselves and to our clients to at least bring along the map we saved from our own journey (even if they decide to take a different route). (Okay, I'm getting a bit nuts with the metaphors here, but you get the idea, yes?)


So there you have it. That's the list I have going in my head when people ask me for advice on becoming a music therapist, and now here it is! In blog-land! And if any of you music therapists out there in the world have other advice to offer, bring it on!


The good news (well, to me anyway) is this: I worked as a music therapist for 34 years. Even on the worst of days, I have never regretted my decision to do this work! Much good luck to you as you go forth and consider whether or not the life of a music therapist is one you'd like as your own.

Taboo Topics in Music Therapy- Part III- The List (so far)

Here's a list of taboo topics I generated. I found I had to keep adding to it as I went along. I also included many of the offerings of the conference participants. Feel free to comment and add your own. I dare say there are quite a few taboos to be found in music therapy as yet. 

Taboos (I have known and loved)

1. Sexual feelings and/or arousal

a. for clients

b. dreams about clients

c. our clients feelings about us

2. Fantasies

a. that we will be the one person who makes a difference in our clients’ lives (or that we are the be-all and end-all in their lives)

b. sexual fantasies

c. fantasies of taking clients home and taking care of them, also known as “rescue fantasies”

d. dreaming about clients

3. Mistakes on the part of the music therapist

4. Fee disasters/money/financial transactions

5. Hatred for/anger toward a patient

a. hating a patient’s music

b. clients who are hurting/frustrating us

6. Getting sick and not being able to do your job for a while

a. can include mental illness as well as physical (i.e., needing to take a break from work)

b. music therapists who have mental illness

c. fear of getting sick when working with clients who have communicable diseases

7. Feelings of incompetence

a. not knowing what to do in a session

b. feeling lost

c. feeling uncertain musically

8. Feeling that we need to be all-knowing, all loving (a.k.a. “Music Therapist Syndrome”- the belief that we must always be nice and cheerful, and that it is our job to make our clients feel better, and that we should never be “mean” and confront them or push them in any way or to talk about “sad” subjects.

9. Feeling bored or tired/sleepy during sessions

10. Clients who gross us out or offend us

11. Therapist’s fears/terrors

12. Therapist’s personal issues around shame/guilt

a. May include therapist’s own abuse history

13. Being fired

14. Issues with staff/co-workers/clients’ families

a. having to report staff/clients’ families for abuse/neglect/etc.

b. fears of retaliation should we report abuse

c. dealings with staff regarding clients (having differences of opinion)

d. staff undermining our efforts as therapists

15. Being uncomfortable with the system within which we work

a. disagreeing with the way client services are provided

b. having to represent a facility we don’t always feel comfortable with

16. Boundary violations

a. treating clients or their families as friends

b. hugging/touching clients as a matter of course

c. violating client confidentiality

17. Guilt over terminating/guilt over not terminating

a. “I should have tried harder.”

b. not working on closure

c. difficult endings

d. ending because we don’t know what else to do

18. Fear of violent clients or those who act out in other ways

a. constant anxiety when having to go and work with a particular client

19. Clients who fall asleep in sessions

a. leading to fear that we are inept or ineffective therapists

b. that we’re doing something wrong or boring

20. Having favorites

a. when we admit it we’re less likely to act on it than if we deny it.

b. also the belief that we have to love all of our clients

21. Fear that a client may commit suicide

a. along with the fear that we will miss the warning signs and it will be our fault

b. and the corresponding fantasy that we will be the one to save this client

22. Being in the role of “helper”

a. discomfort with being in the role of ‘helper’

b. not being aware of the power difference between client/therapist

23. Seeing clients as more disabled than they are

a. sometimes leads to an attitude that “they don’t understand what we’re doing, so it won’t hurt them” (this is the kind of belief that can lead to situations like the one with Corey Brown, the music therapist who molested his clients)

24. Working with someone your own age

a. Or working with someone you’ve known in a different context (including survivor guilt)

25. Running into clients outside of the therapy context

a. Clients who want to connect through various online social networks

b. Clients asking for sex/marriage/personal phone numbers

c. Clients who grope themselves/who try to grope the music therapist

26. Clients who are better musicians than we are

27. The myth of music as a “non-threatening” medium

28. Guilt over privilege

29. Assuming our clients are heterosexual, or identify as a particular gender

30. Hating a particular style of music and/or refusing to learn or play a particular style in music therapy sessions

31. Clients dying or getting seriously ill (sometimes in the middle of a session)

32. Racism, sexism, able-ism, heterosexism (in all of their infinite varieties and forms)

33. Music therapists who do not dress in a professional manner (i.e., whose dress is seductive or overly casual)

Why we don’t talk about these things (some of these reasons are taboos in and of themselves, I would say):

• We don’t always know the answer
• We don’t want to look unprofessional/bad
• Ashamed/embarrassed/fear of being blamed
• Music therapy students who are over-protected/over-directed
• Not always recognizing countertransference
• Helplessness
• Not wanting to deal with repercussions
• Competition between colleagues
• Not having a supervisor/mentor/safe resource
• The need to constantly “prove” that music therapy is a valid therapy
• Wanting to be a good example
• Diminishing the impact of an issue (i.e., making light of a difficult topic)
• Fear of being seen as a fake/incompetent