"Voice Of The Monster" To Help The Psychotherapist

2024 Author: Harry Day | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 15:43

I would like to share my own experience of using the film (book) "The Voice of the Monster" by Patrick Ness in psychotherapy for people who live with seriously ill or dying relatives.

What impressed me personally with this work. The Voice of the Monster is not a magical good bedtime story, it is a story that will touch the strings of the soul of everyone who has lost loved ones. These are ambiguous stories told by the Monster, each of which makes you think and rethink the values that we have.

The main character, Connor, at the age of 13, is going through the death of his mother, a mass of feelings that are associated with this, from fear and powerlessness to active rage and unrestrained aggression. Connor is looking for ways to cope with difficult experiences.

The Monster's voice is a conversation between a wise adult and a child about things that are not usually talked about, about feelings, about death, about forgiveness and goodbye.

Life after death

Conor opened his eyes. He was lying in the grass, on a hill near the house.

He was still alive.

But the worst seems to have already happened.

- Why did I stay alive? he croaked, covering his face with his hands. “I deserve the worst.

- You? - asked the monster. It stood over the boy.

Conor began to speak, slowly, painfully, with difficulty pronouncing every word.

“I've thought about it for a long time,” he said. “I knew she wouldn’t get better, almost from the very beginning. She said that she was getting better because that's what I wanted to hear. And I believed her. I didn't mind.

“No,” the monster announced.

Conor swallowed, still struggling with himself.

- And I wanted it all to end. How badly I wanted to stop thinking about it! I couldn't wait any longer. I could not bear the thought of being alone.

Conor did indeed cry, and the more so the more he thought about what he had done. He cried even harder than when he found out that my mother was seriously ill.

- A part of you wanted it all to end all along, even if it meant losing her- continued the monster.

Conor nodded, completely unable to speak.

- And the nightmare began. This nightmare always ended …

“I couldn’t hold her,” he managed with difficulty. “I could hold her, but I didn't.

“And it's true,” the monster nodded.

- But I didn't want that! - exclaimed Conor, and his voice rang. - I didn't want to let her out! And now she's dying, and it's my fault!

“But this is certainly not true,” said the monster.

Sadness squeezed Conor's throat like a stranglehold, muscles tightening. He could hardly breathe, each breath was given to him with great effort. The boy fell to the ground again, wanting to fall through it, once and for all.

He barely felt the huge fingers of the beast lifted him, folding into a boat. Soft and delicate branches wrapped around him so that he could lie back.

“It's my fault,” Conor said. “I couldn’t keep her. I was weak.

“It's not your fault,” the monster announced, his voice floating in the air like a breeze.

- My.

“You just wanted the pain to end,” the monster continued. - Your own pain. And the end of your loneliness has come. These are perfectly normal human desires

“I didn't think about it,” Conor objected.

- I thought and did not think, - the monster drawled.

Conor snorted and looked into the face of the monster, which was as big as a wall.

- How can both be true?

- People are complex creatures. How can a queen be a good and bad witch at the same time? How can a killer be a killer and a savior? How can a Pharmacist be an evil but well-meaning person? How can a pastor be delusional but kind-hearted? How can an invisible person become more alone by becoming visible?

“I don’t know,” Conor shrugged, although he could barely move. “Your stories have always seemed meaningless to me.

- The answer is simple: it doesn't matter what you think, the monster continued. “In your thoughts, you contradict yourself hundreds of times a day. On the one hand, you wanted to let her go, but on the other, you desperately urged me to save her. You believed the soothing lies, knowing the painful truth that made those lies necessary. And you yourself punished yourself for believing in both.

- But how do you fight this? - asked Conor, and his voice grew stronger. - How to deal with this disorder that is going on in the soul?

“Tell the truth,” the monster replied. - Like now.

Conor remembered again his mother's hand, and how it slipped out …

“Stop it, Conor O'Malley,” the monster said softly. “That's why I went for a walk - to tell you this so you can get well. You must hear.

Conor swallowed.

- I'm listening to.

“You don't write your life in words,” the monster explained. - You write her deeds. It doesn't matter what you think. What matters is what you do.

There was silence as Conor tried to catch his breath.

- What am I supposed to do? he asked finally.

“Do what you do now,” the monster replied. - Tell the truth.

- Is that all?

- Do you think it's easy? - the huge eyebrows of the monster crept up. “You were ready to die, just not to tell her.

Conor looked down at his hands and finally unhooked them.

- Because it was a very bad truth.

“It's just a thought,” the monster explained. - One in a million. It caused no action.

Conor took a deep, long and still hoarse breath.

He didn't cough. The nightmare no longer filled him, did not squeeze his chest, did not bend him to the ground.

He didn't even feel it.

“I'm so tired,” Conor said, resting his head in his hands. - I'm so tired of all this.

“Sleep then,” the monster ordered. - The time has come.

- Has it come? Conor muttered. Suddenly he realized that he could not keep his eyes open.

The monster once again reshaped the hand, making a nest of leaves, in which Conor nestled comfortably.

“I need to see my mother,” he protested.

- You will see her. Promise.

Conor opened his eyes.

- Will you be there?

“Yes,” the monster replied. - This will be the end of my walk.

Conor felt himself rocked by the waves, a blanket of sleep enveloped him, and he could not help it.

But, already falling asleep, he managed to ask the last question:

- Why do you always show up at the same time?

He fell asleep before the monster answered him.

In consultations with clients for whom the topic of death is relevant, I use this work as a visualization of what I am talking about, about grief, about different, sometimes contradictory feelings, about the permission to feel and live on.

After the first and second meeting, I recommend that you look (read) whoever you like, and then discuss it.

I ask questions:

What do you allow yourself next to your loved ones and what do not? What feelings did the characters of parables, the queen, prince, medicine man, etc. evoke? Are your experiences similar to what is happening with Connor?

Of course, I do not ask all questions in a row, they are woven into the fabric of therapy, I observe, listen, if I ask appropriate.

When the experience of powerlessness, anger, loss will be passed, perhaps the "life after death" of a loved one will come.

Perhaps such a tool will be useful to someone.