Well-Being Therapy

G. A. Fava

• Publisher: S. Karger
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9783318058222
• Topic: Psychologie
• Subtopic: Psychoanalyse

Well-Being Therapy (WBT) is the psychotherapeutic approach developed by Giovanni Fava, a world-renowned psychiatrist and psychotherapist, and the editor-in-chief of Psychotherapy and Psychosomatics. WBT is an innovative strategy that is based on monitoring psychological well-being, whereby the patient progressively learns how to make it grow. This type of therapy has enjoyed much success and is increasing in popularity around the world. The first part of this long-awaited book describes how the idea for WBT was formed, the first patient treated, and the current evidence that supports this approach. In Part II, Giovanni Fava provides the treatment manual of WBT, describing what each session entails, and includes many examples from his own cases. The last part covers some of the specific conditions for which WBT can be used and how sessions can be conducted. It includes sections on depression, mood swings, generalized anxiety disorder, panic and agoraphobia, and posttraumatic stress disorder. There is also information on the application of WBT in interventions in school settings. Throughout the book, Dr. Fava keeps things interesting by peppering his narrative with anecdotes from his medical career. The primary audience for this book is professionals within psychology, psychiatry, and other fields of medicine (e.g., family practice, pediatrics, and rehabilitation). However, the book is written in a relaxed, clear, and accessible style that also makes it of interest to counselors, educators, and family and friends of patients, not to mention patients themselves.

Part I: THE DEVELOPMENT

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Chapter 1

The Background

When I decided to study medicine, I was not particularly convinced of my choice. The early years were tough: I did not like the topics I was studying in my medical school in Padova, Italy. I was aware that I should consider myself lucky with a future full of promise, but I kept on wondering whether it was the right choice - until something happened. In those days (early 1970s), medical students had yearly chest X-rays. At the beginning of my third year (medical courses extend over 6 years in Italy), I had mine. A few days later I received a letter stating that there was something wrong and to come back for further checking in a couple of days. My first thought was ‘I have tuberculosis’. When I got the letter, I was reading Thomas Mann's Magic Mountain and I concluded that this could not be a coincidence: ‘I have not been feeling well, recently - I thought - I am more tired than I used to be.’ I imagined myself in a sanatorium, far away from my family, friends, and classes. When I eventually went to the clinic for the new check-up, I was a wreck. But at the clinic they told me there must have been a mistake and that my chest was fine. In a matter of seconds, I felt fine and when I left the clinic the sky was blue and there could not be any other medical student happier than I was. I understood that regaining health is a wonderful experience; however, I was never actually sick from a medical viewpoint.

I thus became interested in psychosomatic medicine, a comprehensive framework for assessing the role of psychosocial factors in the development, course, and outcome of illness [1]. However, no one seemed to be interested in psychosomatic medicine in Padova or at other Italian universities. By some lucky circumstance, in 1975 I was able to spend the summer in Rochester, New York, studying with one of the most prominent scholars in the psychosomatic field, George Engel.

The Rochester Experience

George Engel was Professor of Medicine and Professor of Psychiatry at the University of Rochester School of Medicine and Dentistry. Trained as an internist, he had criticized the traditional concept of disease being restricted to what can be understood or recognized by a physician [2]. In other words, only the physician could decide if something is a disease and if a patient can be sick. Engel elaborated a unified concept of health and disease [2]: there is no health and no disease, only a dynamic balance between health and disease. Such a view, expressed in 1960, was subsequently elaborated in the biopsychosocial model [3]. Psychosocial factors are a class of etiological factors in every type of disease, but their relative weight may change from one disease to another, from one patient to another, and even from one episode to another of the same illness in the same patient [4]. It is not that certain diseases, defined as ‘functional’, lack an explanation, but rather it is our assessment that is inadequate in most clinical encounters [5].

I spent the summer in his medical-psychiatric unit and the experience was for me an endless source of knowledge and inspiration. One day a psychosomatic consultation was requested from a medical ward. With another medical student, Sam, I went to see the patient. She was a lady in her fifties and manifested what appeared to be an unbearable abdominal pain. Medical work-up could not establish a potential cause. Her condition seemed to be deteriorating and explorative surgery was planned in a couple of days (in 1975, today's minimally invasive explorative procedures were not available). Our job was to interview her and get some preliminary history. Dr. Engel would have come later in the day. We started with some questions, but she appeared to be in great pain. Sam and I agreed that it was probably not the right time and should come back with Dr. Engel, which we did. Dr. Engel immediately got her attention and collaboration. At a certain point during the medical interview, he became interested in a scar the patient had. The lady suddenly brightened up and described a past surgical operation. Dr. Engel asked whether she had undergone other surgical interventions. The lady showed other scars and provided detailed descriptions of each surgery. She seemed to forget about her pain. Sam and I could not understand what was going on. She looked so well, while only hours earlier she was in so much pain. Dr. Engel asked how things were going in her life and she replied that after a very troubled time with a lot of problems in her family things were going reasonably well. When we got out of her room, Dr. Engel told us that the lady had a pain-prone personality and was a surgery addict [6]. When life is treating these patients worst, when circumstances are the hardest, their physical health is likely to be at its best and the individuals are free of pain. When things improve, when some success is imminent, then painful symptoms develop [6]. Sam asked what could be done for these patients. Dr. Engel replied ‘Not much, unfortunately. I will speak with her physician and at least this time we will avoid surgery.’ Sam and I, with our juvenile wish to help, were very dissatisfied by that answer. I thought ‘Maybe one day someone will find the way.’

When the summer was over, I went back to Padova and intended to become like George Engel and be knowledgeable of both internal medicine and psychiatry. In due course, however, I realized that one specialty was already more than I could handle and thus chose psychiatry, the field where most of the psychosomatic researchers came from.

Treating Depression

I started my residency training program in psychiatry in Padova, but my idea was to go back to Rochester to complete my training. Due to certain circumstances that in those days I judged to be unfavorable, I ended up instead in Albuquerque, New Mexico. My teacher and mentor was someone I had met at a psychosomatic conference, Robert Kellner. He had become a psychiatrist after several years as a primary care physician and thus shared something in common with George Engel. He really showed me how the psychosomatic approach could balance pharmacological and psychological therapies in psychiatric practice. Depression was the psychiatric disorder that attracted my attention the most. After 1 year in the southwestern US, I moved to Buffalo, New York, where I was asked to establish a depression unit. I was convinced that depression was essentially an episodic disorder, that there were powerful remedies against it (antidepressant drugs), and chronicity was essentially a consequence of inadequate diagnosis and treatment. Today when I look back on of my views then, I am surprised of my naiveté and clinical blindness. We have become aware that depression is essentially a chronic disorder with multiple acute episodes along its course [7]; however, back then my view was shared by almost every expert in the field.

Working in the US, I had essentially a cross-sectional view of the disorder (I was seeing and treating patients only in the hospital, with little follow-up). However, when I decided to go back to Italy and establish an outpatient clinic at the University of Bologna with opportunities for follow-up, I began to observe that patients I had personally treated with antidepressant drugs and whom I judged to have completely remitted relapsed into depression after some time. What was I missing?

The Concept of Recovery

I became more and more skeptical of the long-term effectiveness of antidepressant drugs to the point that in 1994 I introduced in the literature the hypothesis that these medications could be a cause for chronicity [8]. I was inspired by the ‘antibiotic paradox’: the best agents for treating bacterial infections are also the best agents for selecting and propagating resistant strains, which persist in the environment even when exposure to the drug is stopped [9]. On the basis of some data that were available, I postulated that long-term use of antidepressant drugs may worsen the long-term outcome and symptomatic expression of illness, decreasing both the likelihood of subsequent response to pharmacological treatment and duration of symptom-free periods [8]. Two decades later the evidence supporting this hypothesis is quite impressive [10], but in those days swimming against the tide of pharmaceutical propaganda was not easy. In Albuquerque, under the guidance of Robert Kellner, I had learned to practice cognitive behavior therapy (CBT). I used it with my depressed patients, whether associated with antidepressant drugs or not, but it did not seem to affect their long-term outcome, as also reported in the literature [7]. This was in striking contrast to the use of CBT in anxiety disorders, where positive and lasting effects could be observed [8].

Meanwhile, more and more studies were pointing to the fact that pharmacological treatment of depression was not solving all the problems and, despite substantial improvement, important residual symptoms were present [11]. Such symptoms included anxiety and irritability in particular, and were associated with impaired functional capacity. Most residual symptoms also occurred in the prodromal phase of illness and might progress to become prodromal symptoms of relapse [11]. As a result, the concept of recovery could not be limited to the abatement of certain symptoms [12]. As Engel indicated [2, 3], health is not simply the absence of disease, but also requires the presence of wellness. We knew how to bring people out of the negative functioning, but regaining psychological well-being was quite different and we did not have a clue about how to achieve it.

Psychological Well-Being

In the mid-1990s, I attended an international conference on psychiatry in Copenhagen, organized by my friend Per Bech, one of the most important and original researchers in psychological assessment of mood disorders [13]. When I met him, he recommended attending a session on quality of life. He explained that one of the speakers was an American developmental psychologist who had some interesting ideas. I went and, as on other occasions, he was right. The speaker was Carol Ryff, who gave an account of her model of psychological well-being, which was a synthesis of various contributions from the literature [14]. She remarked that well-being cannot be equated with happiness or life satisfaction. ...