Bio-Story: Daniel Linder
Intimacy, The Essence of True Love
Website: RelationshipVision.com
How did I get to be a psychotherapist and a relationship specialist?
As I pondered an answer, I started a conversation with myself.
“There must be some running themes.”
“I was always looking for action,” resonated.
“Oh no. That makes me sound like an addict. I chose psychotherapy as a profession because I’m an addict?!…True. I am on a path of recovery from compulsive gambling and porn addiction (during my teens and early 20’s), but I don’t see the connection between my history of addiction and my choosing my career path. Certainly my experience proved to be invaluable when working with addicts and writing about addiction, but there was something about the profession of psychotherapy I latched onto and it wasn’t that kind of high.”
Seeking clarity in this unsettling moment, I dug deeper for the truth about myself, “What kind of action I was looking for?”
What was the only thing that ever really mattered to me?”
Images I conjured up took me back to when I was 10 years old, when I was on my knees lacing up my grandfather’s boots because his arthritis made impossible for him to do so himself.
Something clicked. “Why did this memory leave such an indelible imprint?”
These were times when my grandfather talked to me, really talked to me, about his pain, his life, his struggles and lessons he wished to impart. His sharing his life experiences, pain and emotions felt like the greatest gift he could give me. It was the first time anyone totally opened up to me, which made me feel close to him and the love between us. He trusted I would listen and understand, assumed I would. Listening was never so easy and rewarding.
As clear as this was, there was still more. It dawned on me that my passion for relationships was already there, I just wasn’t aware of it at the time. I can only surmise that my grandfather awakened a need that was already there.
Come to think of it, whenever I’m with someone, there is always this compelling potential for something profound to happen, something special, a relationship-defining moment.
“I’m after a connection, a relationship that is real and deep.” I now know what this is called: Intimacy. My need for intimacy is longstanding and the more of it there is in my life, the more I seem to thrive.
>“My hunger, desire, yearning or joy, whatever it was, is an integral part of who I am.
“But maybe I got to be this way from my mother (my grandfather’s daughter).” No sooner than thoughts of my mother pop into my head did I hear one of her notable quotes, as one of many seeds she planted throughout my life.
“The masses are the asses.” Even though I wasn’t able to fully grasp the meaning of her tutelage at the time, I had this sense that her intellect and wit were to be reckoned with. All I knew was that there were a lot of assess out there and I wasn’t going to be one of THEM. It wasn’t until after my initial daze that I began to understand that she was talking about the danger of conformity; that it can rob us of our individuality; that our individuality is to be cherished and upheld at all costs. If my behavior were based on being and doing the same as everyone else, I’d lose my self and my power, and she was making sure that I never let that happen.
“Know thyself.” “Be true to yourself.” This is what my mother stood for. She is a real life example and role model, of “walking the walk.” She was, as I remember, and still is, uncompromising in her presentation, with a knack for grabbing others’ attention with wisdom and realness. She was the one others would joke about. “Now tell me how you really feel,” because that was what she was known to do.
There is no doubt her messages were getting through to me. She taught me to appreciate who I am, my uniqueness; to listen to and rely on myself; to express my feelings and thoughts, be open and honest, and be myself. Otherwise life could become void of substance, depth, meaning and purpose. Her voice became my voice, my inner voice.
Something must also be said for my experience growing up in New York City, where I was exposed to all extremes of life and behavior, which provided the best training any therapist could ever wish for. You don’t develop the knack for telling ‘bullshit’ from ‘non-bullshit’ in classrooms. You don’t develop the readiness to talk to anyone, at any time about anything in a classroom. From this perspective, I see that choosing psychotherapy was a matter of doing what comes naturally. I was brimming with confidence; that there was nothing any one could say or do that could faze me; that would leave me speechless, unsure or judgmental. Whether it was my ability to listen or verbal responses, I believe that my mere presence conveyed acceptance and understanding. I became a magnet for those who needed to express themselves, share and release their pent-up pain; a mirror who reflected back their dignity. I often got feedback from people who talked to me that I after our exchange, they felt lighter and uplifted, and gratitude had lingered long after we parted ways.
Not only was I drawn to people because of the compelling potential alluded to earlier, i.e. an intimate moment, I was always fascinated by people; uniqueness made every person an adventure. Rather than taking our differences personally or as ominous “writing on the wall,” I reveled in discovery and understanding achieved, whenever we felt safe to be completely ourselves with each other, to respond freely, spontaneously and without censoring.
Graduate school was another turning point. I ended up in a highly alternative institution, The California Institute of Integral Studies (CIIS). CIIS was the only school around to integrate Eastern Philosophy and Western Psychology. Principles of Buddhism were woven into my eclectic clinical orientation, particularly the concepts of awareness and compassion, and the practice of meditation. CIIS turned out to be just what I was looking for and needing at the time – an approach that relied heavily on one’s natural inclinations and creativity, and an environment that encouraged discovery of your life’s purpose, known in Buddhism as your “dharma.”
My first internship was at San Quentin State Penitentiary, leading groups and doing individual therapy. In some ways, it was like being right at home in Brooklyn. I was totally comfortable, sure of myself. Not only was this my first real live experience doing therapy, it was considered by my peers to be a most challenging one. My realness, authenticity, my way of “telling it like it is,” no doubt, went a long way towards building rapport, commanding respect, and most importantly, creating a space that fostered openness and honesty.
Upwards of seventy five percent of the inmates were there for crimes in which drugs and/or alcohol was involved, either they were addicted or dealing or both. Addiction reigned supreme as a way of life as poverty and desperation were all they knew. Violence and guns -- crime as a way to survive -- were the norm. They were raised in what we’d generally consider to be highly dysfunctional families, riddled by abuse and neglect. It didn’t take long to make the connection between the pervasive lack of adult role models who provided stability, guidance and love and how their lives turned out.
After San Quentin, I worked in a Residential Drug Treatment program for a number of years, again leading groups and doing individual therapy with addicts. From there I built a private practice of patients who were predominantly addicts in recovery. While I was adept at building rapport, strong therapeutic alliances, and acting as an agent for positive change in their lives, my limitations were never more apparent. My motto was, “Therapy is what happens when you leave my office.” While I focused on getting beyond sobriety, helping them to transition from addictive, dependency-based relationships to a support system of healthy, intimate, emotionally nourishing relationships, their experience in the real world proved to be overwhelmingly demoralizing. For them it was like “the blind leading the blind.” They didn’t know or meet anyone equipped with the skills and experience to relate in a healthy way and would invariably fall back into old patterns.
Rather than being an integral part of their recovery, their relationships more often put them at risk of relapse.
What were they to do? Where could they go for guidance and training in the area of relationship building skills? I saw a void and became intent on filling it. What was needed was some kind of accelerated training program. My brainstorm led me to the Dating to Relate workshop, whereby participants ‘dated’ each other outside of the group to then return to debrief their experience being together. The participants would get to see how they handled a wide variety of situations that occur when meeting someone for the first time, ranging from being highly attracted to not at all, uncomfortable feelings and ways they sabotaged themselves. The workshop afforded them the opportunity to practice communicating more effectively. During the course of 3 years, I conducted a dozen of these groups and extended them to Gay and Lesbian community. During my second Dating to Relate group, I had begun writing my first book, Dating, A Guide to Creating Intimate Relationships.
What next?
I started wondering whether ‘know-how’ and understanding the creative process are enough to be able to make healthy, intimate relationships happen. I wanted to get beyond the principles, challenges, pitfalls, skills and training exercises.
It felt like I’d come full circle and was back to running themes. There is my need for connection, understanding and intimacy. There is my grandfather who may have awakened it. There is my mother who instilled the celebration of self. There is being a New Yorker. There is cutting my clinical teeth at San Quentin. There is the Buddhism effect and CIIS for a “right brain” academic experience. There is feeling naturally suited, as if I was a therapist before I actually became one.
My solid track record in relationships came into focus. “To what can I attribute my knack for and my solid track record of a steady stream of intimate and ever-deepening relationships, ranging from my parents, siblings, partner, children and friends, before I ever studied relationships?”
“What was it about me or what I was doing that made a difference?” A common sense “I have developed an intimate relationship with myself.” I know myself. I am self-aware and self-reliant. I respect, trust, accept and love myself (most of the time), which gives me power and the ability to express myself freely (most of the time). I don’t usually fall into the trap of valuing or measuring myself according to how others respond to me, which makes it easier for me to be open, honest, and to build trust. I usually can express what I think and feel at any given time, which makes it possible for others to know me deeply, to feel close and connected to me. I utilize my intuition, gut and senses to interpret what is happening and to decide on a course of action that is in my best interests and is in keeping with my vision of the kind of relationship I’m after.
“Oh no. Here comes yet another principle. “The most important relationship is with yourself.”
In an effort to give relationship training worldwide accessibility, I have been, for the past 15 years, speaking, writing books and articles, doing workshops, building the RelationshipVision.com website, developing on-line CEU classes, in addition to growing my private practice consisting of individuals, couples, families and groups. After Dating, A Guide to Creating Intimate Relationships, came Beyond Sobriety, Empowering the Transformation of Relationships and The Relationship Model of Addiction.
My most recent book, Intimacy, The Essence of True Love, published by Inkstone Press (Australia) demystifies intimacy and serves as a relationship training guidebook that will unleash the reader’s creative potential. After learning about basic principles, challenges, pitfalls and necessary skills, the only thing left to do will be to practice – to apply the lessons in all of your relationship encounters. In effect, you can conduct your own Dating to Relate workshop. “Intimate relationships are what happen after you read my book.” |
