Learn to empty the vase as you go

Quebec, a new two-month closed therapy for violent men is showing promising results, but it is reserved for people who have already been arrested for crimes.

Paul and Frédéric have both just completed the therapy “Je t’aime moi non plus” at the community residential center (CRC) Le Pavillon, a halfway house in Quebec. For two months, they were cut off from the world. No visits, no outings, no telephone… No contact with the outside and a lot of exercises to analyze what is going on inside.

“I have always done violence everywhere. Therapy allowed me to face the mirror saying to myself: “Do you want to be that?” “says Frédéric, in his late twenties.

In order not to jeopardize their rehabilitation, The duty accepted that Paul and Frédéric talk about their therapy under an assumed name. Frédéric was arrested for assault after breaking his wife’s nose and is waiting to return to court.

Paul was convicted of stalking a woman he had dated. He too is in his late twenties. He says therapy helped him understand his inability to deal with abandonment. “When someone says to me: ‘Give me time’, I have misery”, sums up the man in a very calm voice.

“The person may tell me to stop talking to him, I feel like fixing the thing, fixing it, he explains. I don’t have the right to talk about it, but I’m going to apologize the same…”

The meeting takes place in a halfway house. After two decades of housing and monitoring violent men, the CRC three years ago created tailor-made therapy for them with groups of six or seven men at a time.

“It’s not infallible,” explains François Hallé, clinical advisor and admissions manager. “Just because the guy comes here doesn’t mean he’s cured. But there is progress, certainly. For those who want it. »

And the weeks following an arrest are “a good time in their life to ‘stop acting’ and to help themselves”.

The Roulette of Emotions

Paul and Frédéric now have a new vocabulary to describe their emotions and their past. Paul explains that his “experience” clearly explains why he loses control when he is rejected. “Knowing me, with my past, my experience, everything starts from there. I made host families, there are habits that have been created. Because I have no intention of doing harm at all. »

To the point of feeling less guilty? “No, because we made the choice to do the same,” he says tit for tat, pointing out that he has often been told this in therapy. “I made the choice to call her, I made the choice to text her. She, she imposed a limit on me and I made the choice not to respect it. »

The speakers pushed them to dissect their emotions beyond the basic concepts of anger, pain and joy. “I often say that these are things that would be good for everyone,” says François Hallé. The guys who come here […] committed crimes, they went further than other people. But managing your emotions is good for everyone. »

For everyone, and especially for guys. With hindsight, Paul and Frédéric are very critical of their old vision of masculinity. “I have the right to talk about my feelings. I need it too. […] I won’t stop crying because I’m a man, said Paul. If man does not talk about the emotions he experiences, he accumulates them, accumulates them, and will burst. »

Therapy participants were given a color wheel representing the broad spectrum of emotions that a human being can experience, encouraging them to describe precisely what they feel when things are going wrong.

Since his release, Frédéric keeps the wheel next to his bed, on his bedside table. “I watch it every day to make sure I can point to how I felt about my day when I report at the end of the day. »

Obsessed with the idea of ​​controlling everything, he says he works hard to let go. “I am someone who is extremely anxious in life and as soon as conflict arises and I start to lose control, my anxiety comes so much”through the roof” [au maximum] that’s where I start to lose control and not think rationally. »

He compares himself to a vase that should not be overflowed, says that before, he “always had a very full vase”. “When I got up in the morning, the vase, you put four drops in it, and it overflowed. We agree that it’s not a lot… You come across a crazy driver on the road in the morning, it’s already two drops… You have one left. You arrive at the gym, all your weights are taken, you have to train with 20 pounds instead of 25 pounds. It annoys you, you just put your last drop of water. You don’t have any more, and it’s 8 o’clock in the morning. »

To “lower the vase”, he now relies on a series of tricks. Like changing rooms, going outside, or meditating. Paul and he both became followers of meditation during the therapy.

“I meditate twice a day,” says Paul. In the morning, it’s the first thing I do when I get up, I try in the evening too. At certain times during the day too, I try to stop. […] Just take control of my breathing, try to manage myself. But when there are moments of loneliness, it’s a little harder. »

Recurrences and access limits

Despite their young age, Frédéric and Paul were not on their first stay at the halfway house. Frédéric had already been excluded from therapy because he had not respected the rules; Paul, because he communicated with a former victim on social media despite a court order.

Will this time be the right one? Paul takes a deep breath before answering. ” It’s a good question. It is certain that there will be fears, because these are patterns which have been ingrained for a long time, and I don’t think it goes away in a snap. But we have the tools, the skills, the potential, the ability to do things differently. It will be up to us to make the choice to act without violence. »

Frédéric says he relies a lot on the “stable routine” he has given himself in recent weeks. “I’m able to say to myself: ‘You got it, you did it. Why fall back into what you were before? They made you apply all the tools, you have them. You just have to have the motivation to keep going.” »

Both agree that the weeks following therapy are difficult. When Paul returned to his apartment, it was all upside down because the police had searched it. Frédéric, for his part, noticed that he risked losing control if he did not meditate every day.

The therapy provides access to a number of follow-up meetings after discharge from the centre. But the stakeholders deplore that there are not more services.

Paul, for example, would like to see a therapist, but he is unable to find one. The waiting list to see a social worker is two years in the public network, he laments.

In Quebec, other organizations offer resources to help violent men, such as the GAPI (the Group for the help of impulsive people) or Autonhommie. But their services are focused on group meetings and, again, sometimes you have to wait a few weeks to be able to access them.

Geneviève Daneau, the worker who followed Paul during the therapy, immediately points out that he had tried to get help before taking action and being arrested. Without success.

The “I love you, me neither” therapy is mainly offered to men who have been in prison and who are required by the judge to follow it. In these cases, the costs of $110 per day ($6,600 in total) are reimbursed by the Department of Public Security.

The Pavilion is also trying to broaden access to defendants like Frédéric, who have appeared before the judge, but whose case has not yet been heard. “We make requests so that they can be taken care of, explains François Hallé. A lot of times these guys can’t afford therapy.

“It’s boring, but if the person is in court and is on probation, it’s easy. Otherwise, there aren’t many, many options, honestly. “We should work a little more in prevention, not wait for them to be brought to justice. That’s what would make sense. »

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