windows and doors

6 Play TherapyTM September 2009 www. a 4 p t . o r g


CLINICAL EDITOR: Readers are guided by the authors through windows and doors that may strengthen our understanding of the children we
work with in play therapy.



B y D a v i d A . C r e n s h a w PhD, ABPP, RPT-S & E r i c J . G r e e n PhD, LCPC, RPT-S
The Symbolism of Windows
and Doors in Play Therapy

The Windows
In these darkened rooms, where
I spend oppressive days,
I pace to and fro to find the windows.
When a window opens, it will be a consolation.
But the windows cannot be found, or I cannot find them.
And maybe it is best that I do not find them.
Maybe the light will be a new tyranny.
Who knows what new things it will reveal?
~Constantine P. Cavaffy

Windows are literally the visual bridge between inside and
out. In the poem by Cavaffy above, windows provide welcome
light but also pose a threat by virtue of what the light might
expose. Similarly, Violet Oaklander (1988) discusses how
windows bring both light and darkness from the outside, in her
book, Windows to our Children. She utilizes windows as a
compelling metaphor to capture the therapist’s efforts to
create access to the child’s inner world of emotions.
As human beings we are often drawn to the bright, warm
light that shines through windows, possibly representing
health, growth, and the courage to change. At a deep,
unconscious level, we may also fear the light that the
windows allow in as they may metaphorically illuminate
the darkness in the inner recesses of the soul. At
times we may prefer the comfort of the familiar
darkness as opposed to the risk of the exposure
of parts of ourselves whether conscious or
unconscious that we choose to keep hidden.
Practically, windows and light traditionally
symbolize an opening and illumination of
darkness. Psychologically, the uncovering of
the shadow, or all that is hideous and hidden
about us, can be an ambivalent,
uncomfortable experience for many.
The symbols of windows are commonly
used by writers from Emily Bronte to
contemporary authors such as Stephen
King and Dan Brown to capture
symbolically psychological issues of
central characters in their stories. If an
observer views the outside world through a window they will
be constrained by a limited visual field. In Emily Bronte’s novel
Wuthering Heights (1847), windows were interpreted by many
critics to symbolically depict spiritual entrance and escape in
her gothic novel. Also the window though transparent is a
barrier between the viewer and the world on the other side.
Children who tend to be isolated and disconnected from their
social world in many instances enjoy a rich inner life; but, they
are not fully engaged with their external environment. They
become more observers than participants.
In children’s drawings of houses many clinical hypotheses
can be generated about the way windows are depicted. If the
windows are missing, this could be interpreted as a fear of
examination by others of inner secrets or conversely the fear
of looking through the windows to see what is outside. John
O’Donohue (2004) the late Irish poet, discussed how some
eyes have seen too much, tragic events that no human being
or child should ever have to see. From this perspective
traumatized children not including windows in pictures could

be perceived not so much as a refusal to look inward, but a
weariness of the darkness and motivation to reconnect to the
beauty and invisible embrace around and within them.
Windows that are barred in children’s drawings may suggest
secrets to be protected, a prison that one is confined in - even if
it is of one’s own making. It may suggest the need to protect
oneself from an intrusive world perceived to be threatening or
unstable. In literature windows sometimes symbolize an
intolerable situation that needs to be escaped. In children’s
drawings sometimes the windows in the house are placed high
up so that it would not be possible to look out or look in even
though some light is available to those on the inside suggesting
an ambivalence with respect to the interface between the inner
and outer world.
One recent example from the clinical work of the authors
involved a 10 year-old African American male who was a
Hurricane Katrina evacuee. He and his family were stuck on a
roof as flood waters arose and were one of many who received a
dramatic air-lift evacuation. They were displaced by the storm
and hunkered down in a Red Cross shelter for several weeks.
During this time, the play therapist and child drew together.
After three sessions, once trust and rapport began to develop,
the therapist asked the child to draw a picture of how he saw his
world. The child drew a massive prison with many windows
across the top of the building, all with bars across them. The
roof was on fire, with bursts of flames being emitted from within
the prison where the fire originated. The child said that the
prisoners were trapped by rising flood waters, and they could
not get out. He said they started a fire to break through the roof
so they could escape or else they would die. The child had not
disclosed any of the events to the therapist surrounding him and
his family’s traumatic experience that is until he symbolically did
so through a drawing during play therapy. Because of the
less-threatening and developmentally-appropriate modality of
using art or creative means to communicate, children are
sometimes able to express difficult events and feelings to a
caring person both symbolically and concretely (Green, 2009).
This expression of emotion and the telling of their story of pain
and fear are often times therapeutic alone. In the next section,
the symbolism of doors is examined, beginning with the poem,
Doors, below.

Doors
Take me back again, and wake this child that’s sleeping.
Slip inside my head, and make my mind believe it.
You open up the doors I close.
The things you do bleed into my heart and soul.
I try to let these thoughts unfold.
Unlock my mind, and open up the doors I close.
I am not alone.
I feel you watching over me.
Slip inside my soul, until the light is closer.
~Chakra

Doors are often utilized in our vernacular to represent
opportunity. A job well-done may open doors for advancement
while closed doors may represent self-sabotage and
underachievement, or lack of ambition. A door partly open may
suggest new possibilities or potentials. Doors open or closed or
part-way open may symbolize key relationships in the child’s life.
Closed doors may represent rejection, deprivation, or missing
out while open doors the opposite. In play therapy scenarios
with severely deprived children, a common theme is enactment
of a grocery store scene with the customer (a role often assigned
to the therapist) showing up to buy food and suddenly the store
owner (child) slams the door and places a “CLOSED” sign on
the door. This play theme, often with intense affect in the child,
could depict the child missing out not just on the “goodies” of
life but basic nutrients (food).

www. a 4 p t . o r g September 2009 Play TherapyTM 7
“Doors are often utilized ...
to represent opportunity.”
8 Play TherapyTM September 2009 w w w. a 4 p t . o r g

Doors likewise in children’s drawings or in play therapy when
children construct houses out of Legos™ or Lincoln Logs™ can
invite many potentially useful clinical hypotheses that will be
either confirmed or dismissed based on the continuing flow of
the child’s own responses and associative activity. Doors that are
placed in the house high up without steps can symbolize how
inaccessible the house may be for both those inside and outside
of the house. Doors with bars or multiple locks suggest a heavy
emphasis on security and a degree of fear and vulnerability.
Obviously, the question to be explored is whether the barred
doors are meant to keep the occupants of the house in or the
outside world out or a combination of both. A door with a
window may suggest more comfort with the intersection of
inside/outside and the larger the window even more so. The
following paragraphs comprise an example of the authors’
clinical work to illustrate the symbolism of doors in children’s
play therapy.
Viola, a 10-year-old African-American female from the
Southern portion of the U.S., was an only child raised in a
single-parent home by her biological father. Her mother died
when she was two-years-old from cancer. Viola’s father worked
one full-time and one part-time job and therefore was not at
home much to raise his daughter. Viola was often home alone as
young as six-years-old, sometimes feeling neglected, isolated,
and unloved. She would often have to complete homework,
watch TV, eat dinner, and play all by herself. She came into play
therapy after being chronically sexually assaulted by a 20 year
old male cousin who was caretaking for her periodically on
weekends while her father was working his part-time job.
Viola was initially diagnosed with Acute Stress Disorder. Then
after a month, her symptoms did not alleviate, so her diagnostic
label changed to Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). She
mainly held her pain and suffering within, presenting as a quiet
child, with a soft voice and a shy and introverted demeanor.
While play therapy was predominantly non-directive (i.e., when
the child leads) for the first few weeks to build trust and rapport,
therapy eventually evolved into more directive techniques as the
extended developmental assessment was underway. Sometimes,
directive art techniques, particularly through the creation,
analysis, and interpretation of symbols, facilitate communication
between a therapist and a child sexual assault survivor and may
be healing as the trauma narrative develops (Green, 2008). Viola
drew a series of houses or variations of during weeks four-seven
of play therapy. The first home she drew was a home with
windows that had X’s crossed through them and a door with a
small peep hole. No people were included in this drawing. Viola
explained that this was so she could “watch and see if any bad
people were coming.” In the second drawing, the house still
had X’s on the windows, and the peep hole was still present. In
this drawing, she included herself, her father, and a pet dog. She
said the door was always locked so no bad people could come
inside while they were not at home. The therapist explored this
with her further, and she acknowledged that sometimes she’s
scared of being home alone. In the third drawing, the house
looked basically the same. The therapist asked if anything had
changed from the last week, and she said the door wasn’t
locked all the time, just some of the time. Also, the windows did
not have X’s on them. The therapist stayed with the metaphor of
the drawing and asked Viola if the girl in the drawing became
less scared. She responded quietly and with a smile, “Yes. She
feels a little safer.”
Viola expressed later in therapy, after the sixth month, that
she did not want anyone to ever know that her dad was working
and she was home alone. She said she blamed herself because
she thought she was unlovable. She also said when her cousin
raped her, she felt even more unlovable and “gross on the
outside and inside.” Not communicating her hidden pain and
suffering to the therapist or any adult for the first several months
after the sexual assault, she used artwork to symbolically portray
her inner landscape. While many interpretations could be made
regarding her drawing and the progression or regression of the
symbols in the series, the therapist mainly acknowledged,
non-judgmentally, her statement of overwhelming shame and
hurt. He emphasized and honored her sadness and her not
wanting anyone to get close to her too quickly to hurt her again.
She portrayed her inner turmoil symbolically through the locked
doors, the peephole, and the crossed out windows. The
therapist was careful not to be overly reflective or interpretive
with the child for fear of deepening her misattribution of guilt.
The locked door that eventually became unlocked and the
windows that eventually became open may have symbolized
Viola’s inner transformation of self-healing and progression of
trust between her inner and outer world. The therapist was
deeply grateful to simply be able to witness and respect the
production of these symbols and carry some of this child’s pain,
if only for a very short period in her life.

References
Bronte, E. J. (1847). Wuthering heights. New York: Penguin
Popular Classics [2007].
Green, E. J. (2009). Jungian analytical play therapy. In K. J.
O’Connor & L. D. Braverman (Eds.), Play therapy theory and
practice: Comparing theories and techniques (2nd ed.),
83-122. Hoboken, NJ: John Wiley & Sons, Inc.
Green, E. J. (2008). Re-envisioning a Jungian analytical play
therapy approach with child sexual assault survivors.
International Journal of Play Therapy, 17(2), 102-121.
Oaklander, V. (1988). Windows to our children. Highland,
NY: Center for Gestalt Development.
O’Donohue, J. (2004). Beauty: The invisible embrace. New York:
Harper Collins.