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Brick and mortar: Changes in the therapeutic relationship in a postvirtual world
My colleagues and I entered the realm of outpatient psychiatry during residency at a logistically and dynamically interesting time. At the beginning of our third year in training (July 2022), almost all of the outpatients we were treating were still being seen virtually. For much of the year, they remained that way. However, with the reinstatement of the Ryan Haight Act in May 2023, I began to meet patients in person for the first time—the same patients whom I had known only virtually for the first 10 months of our therapeutic relationship. I observed vast changes in the dynamic of the room; many of these patients opened up more in their first in-person session than they had all year over Zoom.
Once in-person sessions resumed, patients who during virtual visits had assured me for almost a year that their home situation was optimized had a plethora of new things to share about their seemingly straightforward living situations. Relationships that appeared stable had more layers to reveal once the half of the relationship I was treating was now comfortably seated within the walls of my office. Problems that had previously seemed biologically based suddenly had complex sociocultural elements that were divulged for the first time. Some patients felt freer to be unrestricted in their affect, in contrast to the logistical (and metaphorical) buttoned-up virtual environment. Emotions ranged from cathartic (“It’s so great to see you in person!”) to bemused (“You’re taller/shorter, older/younger than I thought!”). The screen was gone, and the tangibility of it all breathed a different air into the room.
Virtual vs in-person: Crabs on a beach
The virtual treatment space could be envisioned as crabs in shells scattered on a beach, in which 2 crabs situated in their own shells, not necessarily adjacent to each other, could communicate. This certainly had benefits, such as the convenience of not having to move to another shell, as well as the brief but telling opportunity to gaze into their home shell environment. However, sometimes there would be disadvantages, such as interference with the connection due to static in the sand; at other times, there was the potential for other crabs to overhear and inadvertently learn of each other’s presence, thus affecting the openness of the communication. In this analogy, perhaps the equivalent of an in-person meeting would be 1 crab meandering over and the 2 crabs cohabiting a conch for the first time—it’s spacious (enough), all-enveloping, and within the harkened privacy of a shared sacred space.
A unique training experience
My co-residents and I are uniquely positioned to observe this novel phenomenon due to the timing of having entered our outpatient psychiatry training during the COVID-19 pandemic. Previous generations of residents—as well as practicing psychiatrists who had initially met their patients in person and were forced to switch to virtual sessions during the pandemic—had certain perspectives and challenges of their own, but they had a known dynamic of in-person interactions at baseline. Accordingly, residents who practiced peak- and mid-pandemic and graduated without being required to treat patients face-to-face (the classes of 2022 and 2023) might have spent entire therapeutic relationships having never met their patients in person. My class (2024) was situated in this time- and situation-bound frame in which we started virtually, and by requirements of the law, later met our patients in person. Being not only an observer but an active participant in a treatment dyad within the context of this phenomenon taught me astutely about transference, countertransference, and the holding environment. Training in psychodynamic psychotherapy has taught me about the act of listening deeply and qualities of therapeutic communication. Having the opportunity to enact these principles in such a dichotomy of treatment settings has been invaluable in my education, in getting to know different facets of my patients, and in understanding the nuances of the human experience.
My colleagues and I entered the realm of outpatient psychiatry during residency at a logistically and dynamically interesting time. At the beginning of our third year in training (July 2022), almost all of the outpatients we were treating were still being seen virtually. For much of the year, they remained that way. However, with the reinstatement of the Ryan Haight Act in May 2023, I began to meet patients in person for the first time—the same patients whom I had known only virtually for the first 10 months of our therapeutic relationship. I observed vast changes in the dynamic of the room; many of these patients opened up more in their first in-person session than they had all year over Zoom.
Once in-person sessions resumed, patients who during virtual visits had assured me for almost a year that their home situation was optimized had a plethora of new things to share about their seemingly straightforward living situations. Relationships that appeared stable had more layers to reveal once the half of the relationship I was treating was now comfortably seated within the walls of my office. Problems that had previously seemed biologically based suddenly had complex sociocultural elements that were divulged for the first time. Some patients felt freer to be unrestricted in their affect, in contrast to the logistical (and metaphorical) buttoned-up virtual environment. Emotions ranged from cathartic (“It’s so great to see you in person!”) to bemused (“You’re taller/shorter, older/younger than I thought!”). The screen was gone, and the tangibility of it all breathed a different air into the room.
Virtual vs in-person: Crabs on a beach
The virtual treatment space could be envisioned as crabs in shells scattered on a beach, in which 2 crabs situated in their own shells, not necessarily adjacent to each other, could communicate. This certainly had benefits, such as the convenience of not having to move to another shell, as well as the brief but telling opportunity to gaze into their home shell environment. However, sometimes there would be disadvantages, such as interference with the connection due to static in the sand; at other times, there was the potential for other crabs to overhear and inadvertently learn of each other’s presence, thus affecting the openness of the communication. In this analogy, perhaps the equivalent of an in-person meeting would be 1 crab meandering over and the 2 crabs cohabiting a conch for the first time—it’s spacious (enough), all-enveloping, and within the harkened privacy of a shared sacred space.
A unique training experience
My co-residents and I are uniquely positioned to observe this novel phenomenon due to the timing of having entered our outpatient psychiatry training during the COVID-19 pandemic. Previous generations of residents—as well as practicing psychiatrists who had initially met their patients in person and were forced to switch to virtual sessions during the pandemic—had certain perspectives and challenges of their own, but they had a known dynamic of in-person interactions at baseline. Accordingly, residents who practiced peak- and mid-pandemic and graduated without being required to treat patients face-to-face (the classes of 2022 and 2023) might have spent entire therapeutic relationships having never met their patients in person. My class (2024) was situated in this time- and situation-bound frame in which we started virtually, and by requirements of the law, later met our patients in person. Being not only an observer but an active participant in a treatment dyad within the context of this phenomenon taught me astutely about transference, countertransference, and the holding environment. Training in psychodynamic psychotherapy has taught me about the act of listening deeply and qualities of therapeutic communication. Having the opportunity to enact these principles in such a dichotomy of treatment settings has been invaluable in my education, in getting to know different facets of my patients, and in understanding the nuances of the human experience.
My colleagues and I entered the realm of outpatient psychiatry during residency at a logistically and dynamically interesting time. At the beginning of our third year in training (July 2022), almost all of the outpatients we were treating were still being seen virtually. For much of the year, they remained that way. However, with the reinstatement of the Ryan Haight Act in May 2023, I began to meet patients in person for the first time—the same patients whom I had known only virtually for the first 10 months of our therapeutic relationship. I observed vast changes in the dynamic of the room; many of these patients opened up more in their first in-person session than they had all year over Zoom.
Once in-person sessions resumed, patients who during virtual visits had assured me for almost a year that their home situation was optimized had a plethora of new things to share about their seemingly straightforward living situations. Relationships that appeared stable had more layers to reveal once the half of the relationship I was treating was now comfortably seated within the walls of my office. Problems that had previously seemed biologically based suddenly had complex sociocultural elements that were divulged for the first time. Some patients felt freer to be unrestricted in their affect, in contrast to the logistical (and metaphorical) buttoned-up virtual environment. Emotions ranged from cathartic (“It’s so great to see you in person!”) to bemused (“You’re taller/shorter, older/younger than I thought!”). The screen was gone, and the tangibility of it all breathed a different air into the room.
Virtual vs in-person: Crabs on a beach
The virtual treatment space could be envisioned as crabs in shells scattered on a beach, in which 2 crabs situated in their own shells, not necessarily adjacent to each other, could communicate. This certainly had benefits, such as the convenience of not having to move to another shell, as well as the brief but telling opportunity to gaze into their home shell environment. However, sometimes there would be disadvantages, such as interference with the connection due to static in the sand; at other times, there was the potential for other crabs to overhear and inadvertently learn of each other’s presence, thus affecting the openness of the communication. In this analogy, perhaps the equivalent of an in-person meeting would be 1 crab meandering over and the 2 crabs cohabiting a conch for the first time—it’s spacious (enough), all-enveloping, and within the harkened privacy of a shared sacred space.
A unique training experience
My co-residents and I are uniquely positioned to observe this novel phenomenon due to the timing of having entered our outpatient psychiatry training during the COVID-19 pandemic. Previous generations of residents—as well as practicing psychiatrists who had initially met their patients in person and were forced to switch to virtual sessions during the pandemic—had certain perspectives and challenges of their own, but they had a known dynamic of in-person interactions at baseline. Accordingly, residents who practiced peak- and mid-pandemic and graduated without being required to treat patients face-to-face (the classes of 2022 and 2023) might have spent entire therapeutic relationships having never met their patients in person. My class (2024) was situated in this time- and situation-bound frame in which we started virtually, and by requirements of the law, later met our patients in person. Being not only an observer but an active participant in a treatment dyad within the context of this phenomenon taught me astutely about transference, countertransference, and the holding environment. Training in psychodynamic psychotherapy has taught me about the act of listening deeply and qualities of therapeutic communication. Having the opportunity to enact these principles in such a dichotomy of treatment settings has been invaluable in my education, in getting to know different facets of my patients, and in understanding the nuances of the human experience.
