With the valuable permission of my teacher, I have transcribed this enjoyable conversation on unfinished business in Gestalt therapy, which took place between Prof. Dr. Hanna Nita Scherler and her student PCC,Derya Duman, who received her Gestalt training from her.

Prof.Dr. Hanna Nita Scherler is a distinguished clinical psychologist, educator, and dedicated advocate of Gestalt methodology as a holistic approach to life and therapy.

She serves as a faculty member at Hasan Kalyoncu University and maintains a private practice where she works with individuals, couples, and professionals, offering psychotherapy, supervision, and personal development workshops. With a rich academic background—including a BS in Business Administration-Marketing, dual master’s degrees in Social and Clinical Psychology from Boğaziçi University, and a PhD in Clinical Psychology from Fielding Graduate University (USA)—she uniquely bridges interdisciplinary insights into her practice. Her expertise is further anchored by foundational Gestalt training at the Gestalt Institute of Cleveland and decades of collaboration with international programs in Israel, Georgia, and beyond.

A specialist in process intervention, Prof.Dr. Hanna Nita Scherler is renowned for her dynamic, experiential approach, working in the “here and now” to transform entrenched patterns into pathways for growth. Her multicultural competence, honed through years of engagement with diverse ethnic, religious, and cultural communities, informs her inclusive and adaptive style.

Currently, she is deeply exploring the intersection of universal consciousness and Gestalt principles, a theme she integrates into her educational seminars. Accredited by the European Association for Gestalt Therapy (EAGT) and holding EuroPsy certifications in both Psychology and Psychotherapy Prof.Dr. Nita Scherler is also an active member of the Turkish Psychological Association’s Specialization in Psychotherapy National Awarding Committee.

DD: Welcome, Professor.
HNS: Welcome to you too. Thank you so much for inviting me and giving us the chance to spend this meaningful time together.

DD: Thank you for accepting the invitation so quickly and opening your heart—and for letting us use this space. Thank you for welcoming us in your office. I’m excited, and it probably shows! But what I most want to ask—and hear from you—is this: What is “unfinished business”? How can I spot clues of it in my life? I know it’s too vast for a single podcast, but I’d love a starting point.

HNS: Think of it this way: When we plant a daisy seed, it contains all the components of the final daisy. A tomato seed holds all the components of a tomato. Humans are the same. When born, we carry all the components of our adult selves. Now, by “components,” I don’t just mean physiological, chemical, or water-based elements—there are many. But for our topic, let’s focus on emotional, cognitive, and behavioral potential. What does this mean? A person holds the potential to be hardworking and occasionally lazy. To be truthful and tell white lies. To be punctual or late. To prioritize health or indulge carelessly.

We’re born with a foundation that contains all potentials—what I metaphorically call the “88 keys,” like a piano keyboard. The problem begins during socialization. Parents might say, “Crying isn’t good,” or “Curiosity is bad.” Someone else might teach, “If someone hits you, hit back twice.” We learn to interpret stimuli, assign meaning, and behave based on interactions with caregivers. This becomes our “social software.”

Social software only uses a fraction of our “natural software” (the 88 keys). The natural software is vast, while social software reflects the behaviors, thoughts, and emotions caregivers “greenlight.” So, the seed contains all components of our potential, but we might not use them—either because we’re unaware of them or because using them in childhood led to pain we want to avoid.

These neglected parts of our existential foundation are our “unfinished business.” Why “unfinished”? The term stems from Gestalt and humanistic psychology, which say humans are driven by self-actualization. Not perfectionism, but the flexibility to play as many of the 88 keys as possible, responding to life’s needs. Unfinished business persists because those unused keys are energy-charged. They push us to revisit them, shouting, “Look at me! See me!”

The age of the person struggling matters. A child upset about being excluded has every right to feel that way—peer connection is vital at 10. But if a 40-year-old reacts with the same intensity to friends not inviting them, something’s off.

What I mean is, during certain developmental stages, we integrate with certain things more intensely than we might in later years. Similarly, the need to differentiate from others or situations can vary with age. We must consider this context.

DD: Years ago, in your lecture on conscious development, you explained this so beautifully—I remember thinking, “If only every parent-to-be had to take this course before having children!” I still believe it’s invaluable. So, if someone is struggling and signaling distress, we need to approach them by understanding what they’re ready for—not imposing what we think is right. The art lies in offering what they need and are prepared to receive. You once gave an example that stuck with me: A client’s “unfinished business” might only surface in the 10th, 20th, or 30th session. Until they’re ready, we can’t open that door.

HNS: Exactly. This journey isn’t about fixing problems. It’s about companionship, witnessing, and walking alongside someone—not controlling outcomes. Growth happens in the process, not at the destination. Today, I taught about Carl Rogers’ person-centered therapy. His method emphasizes unconditional acceptance: meeting clients without judgment, regardless of what they share.

A student asked, “If a client says, ‘I’ve gained weight and can’t lose it,’ how would humanistic therapy help?” It’s a fair question! The answer isn’t about “fixing” the weight. Instead, we treat the issue as a lens to explore broader patterns: How does this person engage with challenges? What questions do they ask themselves? How do their thoughts, emotions, and body respond? The goal isn’t to hand them a fish but to teach them how to fish—building resilience, not solutions.

Humanistic and existential approaches agree: Life will always have dissatisfaction. Health issues, loss, relationship struggles, self-doubt—they’re inevitable. Chasing a “problem-free” life is delusional. The real skill is learning to surf life’s waves of discontent. Toxic positivity distracts us; true growth comes from staying present.

Life’s purpose isn’t happiness. That’s a flawed hypothesis. Experiences aren’t “good” or “bad”—they’re neutral. Our task is to meet them fully: feel them, process them, and move through them.

DD: You explain this so beautifully. Listeners might think, “If only it were that simple!”

HNS: It is simple

DD: Let’s dive deeper into that simplicity, Professor. Many listeners—especially those who overthink or struggle to hear their inner voice—might benefit from practical guidance. How can they reconnect with their bodies and emotions, name their experiences, and begin self-discovery?

HNS: Let’s revisit universal developmental stages. Our first awareness begins within a family. Initially, it’s physical—we recognize our bodies. By age 2-3, children start preschool, forming friendships. They’ve already begun distinguishing their bodily boundaries. Next, they learn emotional boundaries through interactions: “I pushed someone, they cried—I didn’t. Others laugh, but I’m not.” They realize, “I have a body, but feelings differ.”

As language develops, they perceive thoughts—their own and others’. This sparks volitional power, shifting from family-centric identity to individual agency. These “self-centered” stages dominate early life: my toys, my friends, my roles (parent, CEO, etc.).

Around age 35, Jung noted, people start recognizing our shared humanity. A CEO and an employee, a parent and a child—all want love, understanding, respect, and purpose. How we express these desires varies, but the core is universal. This realization loosens the grip of “me, mine, my achievements.”

But this shift isn’t linear, right? Life disrupts our attachments. Exactly. When roles or possessions defining us—a car, a title—are challenged, we’re forced to ask: What truly anchors me? These questions nudge us from individual will toward surrender to universal will. What’s left to hold onto?

The present moment. Not abstract ideas, but tangible bodily sensations, emotions, and thoughts. As we shed mental constructs, we start experiencing depth. Fear? My muscles tense, breath shallow—just like yours. Joy? My body expands, breath deepens—just like yours. What triggers these emotions fades in importance; the embodied experience unites us.

This awareness liberates. We stop chasing “I want this car, that title” and ask: What will I contribute? What aligns with the universal flow?

So freedom lies in releasing ego and embracing shared humanity? Precisely. It’s not about erasing individuality but transcending it to touch what’s timeles

HNS: Let me underline again: the stages I’m talking about require sufficient struggle. By “sufficient struggle,” I mean that the answer I give to the question “Who am I?” can be defined by my body, my friendships, my partner, my spouse, my children, the material possessions I own. There’s nothing wrong with this. These are stages we must experience, in my opinion. We’ll live through these first, of course—we should live them. I don’t want this to be misunderstood as “Should we own nothing?” No, that’s not what I’m saying. But let’s not answer the question “Who am I?” with those things. Because when we do, whatever we’ve defined as the answer to “Who am I?” becomes a threat to us if it’s threatened or lost.

DD: If I realize I’m going to be fired, I can experience this as a death threat.

HNS: When the answer to “Who am I?” becomes “my experiences”—even if I have nothing, I still have my experience. Do you understand? When I arrive at that experience, the question becomes: Where will I place my will? What will I direct my agency toward? If my purpose is no longer tied to material things, the answer, in my view, is universal. If we can take steps to actualize ourselves in alignment with our inner voice, no one’s inner voice differs from another’s. Because we are parts of the same whole—representations in separate bodies. If we are representations of a whole in different bodies, Body A, Body B, or Body C doesn’t matter. Let me give an example:

Suppose you’re an HR manager, and the company owner says: “Derya, the economy is terrible. As you know, our company hasn’t been profitable lately. Could you talk to the employees about staying with us for a while with much lower pay?”

Now, you first ask yourself: Do I want to stay for very low pay? Most likely, you don’t.

Option A: Even though you know you don’t want it yourself, you say, “Okay, I’ll do it,” just to please the boss or avoid losing your job. You then pose this question to the employees, even though you know they won’t want to work for low pay either. I’ll stop here.

Option B: If I’m not okay with this, no one will be. Why would I ask them this question when I know they won’t be okay with it either? So you turn to your boss and say: “I can’t ask the employees this. I’m sorry.” These are two vastly different ways of exercising agency.

If you choose the first option, you lie to yourself.

DD: Lack of loyalty to yourself crossed my mind…

HNS: When you lie to yourself, you betray the natural flow of existence—like rowing against the current. If planted knowledge manifests in everything, like a flower or tomato plant, we need to leave it in sunlight and water it. Can we say to a tomato: “Sorry, I can’t water you for a while, but still be a tomato”? It’s the same. You must see this parallel. When you ask yourself this, your inner voice tells you: If you pose a question to others—whose nature is the same as yours—that you wouldn’t accept for yourself, you betray the whole. But when you don’t pose the question because you know others are one with you, you honor the present moment’s truth. The agency you exercise is, in fact, the agency of the whole. Life is this. Not “What does Nita want?” but “How does Nita channel the voice of the whole?”

The ego is a tiny part of the 88 keys—that’s what I meant earlier. You must let the ego die. You must gradually encompass and transcend the things you call “me” so that the “I” ceases to be a distinct shape. That’s why, though we’re born with all these potentials, we aren’t at that level of consciousness yet. Tribal consciousness, school, and other things… That’s why we must define ourselves so strongly as “me, me, me” until…

DD: Professor, I also want to ask this: We talked about the importance of experience, especially “what’s happening here and now in my body.” Let me underline again—while the soul might be harder to grasp, for those fortunate enough to work with you, we define existence through three dimensions: what’s happening in your body, mind, and emotions.

Now, when I react to a stimulus in the “here and now,” is it truly a response to the present moment, or is it influenced by past patterns—like how Derya at age 7-8 found certain behaviors useful and now unconsciously repeats them? I know I phrased this confusingly, but you get the idea. Do you have an example? Let’s walk through one for clarity.

For instance: Imagine someone who grew up in a large family as the youngest child, especially in financially strained circumstances. To be heard, they had to shout, fight for their rights, or escalate aggression. Now, in a democratic workplace with a healthy culture, they might still act overly assertive or tense situations unnecessarily—even though no one is dismissing them like in childhood. Maybe out of habit, or because “this is how I got what I needed back then.”

HNS: Let’s frame this as past vs. present. In the past, in a crowded family, this person had to amplify their voice to differentiate themselves. Only by being loud could they be heard. Back then, this “rowdy” behavior was functional.

DD: Otherwise, they wouldn’t get their share—food, attention, etc.

HNS: Exactly. It worked in that time and place. The person learned it quickly, saw it was effective, and internalized it.

DD: Like storing it in a saddlebag…

HNS: Fast-forward 30 years. Now, they’re in a democratic workplace. Let’s say they want something and default to their “rowdy” method from the saddlebag. They don’t know any other way. Even if they’re educated or hold titles, when their inner child is triggered, all that sophistication vanishes. The triggered emotion takes over. What emotion? “The only way to get what I want is to act like I did as a child.”

Telling this person, “Why are you like this? It’s unnecessary!” is pointless. Their mind might hear it, but their heart won’t. The path between mind and heart is long. From a Gestalt perspective, the way to bridge it is:

In quiet reflection, the person can ask: “Today, in that situation, why did I react that way? How did I interpret the event? What belief drove me—’If I don’t do this, I won’t get what I want’? Does this feel familiar? Yes—deeply familiar. From childhood. I’ve always done this. Let me go back as far as I can remember, revisit childhood, and articulate (out loud or in writing) how that version of me perceived, interpreted, and experienced events. Describe it as if it’s happening now.

Re-experience the fear of not being heard, the helplessness, and the lack of support. Let the body, which stored these memories, relive them.

Healing happens when: After giving voice to that inner child and validating its emotions, the present-day self offers love, containment, and support to that younger part. “If I hadn’t acted rowdy back then, I’d have felt awful. I didn’t receive understanding or support. Today, I’m responsible for giving myself the care, protection, and compassion I needed but didn’t get.”

DD: So the adult self teams up with the inner child—parenting it, in a way.

HNS: Yes. When the adult self acts with containment, compassion, and support toward the inner child, this isn’t a one-time fix. It’s a practice. Each time the inner child is triggered and I respond this way, the intensity of the trigger gradually diminishes.

DD: By containing and transcending it—recognizing that the old behavior was functional then—the adult self can now choose differently: “I can make myself heard without being rowdy.” For those new to this, how do we start? You’ve mentioned speaking aloud or writing. Does it depend on where a person feels safer?

HNS: The key is expression—the emotion must find an outlet. Writing is a beautiful form. Speaking is too, but not silently in your head. It needs to come out. The body doesn’t care who you’re talking to; your cells care whether the energy they hold is expressed or not.

Have you seen Bruce Willis’ The Kid from the ’90s? It’s a great film for anyone working on themselves. It illustrates how to use “I” language and sensory grounding. For listeners, it’s a helpful roadmap.

HNS: Expect struggle. This isn’t theoretical. When you’re triggered, ask: “What am I experiencing right now?“ Expand it to: “What sensations am I feeling in my body?” Warmth, coldness, sweating, trembling, a stabbing sensation, tension in specific muscles, a headache, or a knot of pain somewhere—all are clues.

DD: There’s a part of me screaming, “See me! See me!”

HNS: There’s a sensation in the body—tingling, numbness. This is a topic in itself. Many might ask, “Wait, am I supposed to feel something in my body?”

During times of struggle, the worst thing a person can do to themselves is weaponize their mind to produce agony. Imagining a thousand “what if” scenarios—none of which have happened—and stressing over them as if they’re real. That’s self-sabotage. The mind hates idleness. Give it a job—but not agony-making. Task it with translating the body. Let it act as a decoder: “What am I sensing in my body right now?” This keeps you anchored in the present. But if the mind leaps to crafting misery, the present slips away. You’re punishing yourself with a fictional future.

Ask:

• What sensations am I feeling?
• What emotions accompany them? (Name them: fear, jealousy, sadness, anger.)
• What thoughts arise? Observe them distantly—don’t engage. It’s like unwanted guests at your door. You might say, “Not home!” or let them in but leave them in a room while you focus elsewhere.

DD: Watching your group sessions, I notice how cunningly the mind distracts people from what truly matters.

HNS: Humans are fascinating. We crave something deeply while simultaneously doing everything to avoid attaining it.

DD: But no one would admit to this.

HNS: The desire lives in the mind as a fantasy, but our actions betray it.

DD: It’s the gap between conscious intent and awareness…

HNS: Take weight loss. “I want to lose weight, but I’m too busy to cook or exercise. Stress makes me raid the fridge.” Lies. Lies. You’re refusing to take responsibility.

DD: Are your intentions even genuine? Maybe you’re chasing a 38-inch waist because others did post-pregnancy—not because you need it. You’ve internalized external expectations.

HNS: Or “I want to spend more time with family.” But it “doesn’t happen.” No—it’s not that it “doesn’t happen.” You’re choosing not to prioritize it.

DD: Taking responsibility…

HNS: Responsibility is agency—my will, my choice.

DD: If we dive into victim psychology or transactional analysis here, it’s so easy to regress into that childlike state in daily life—blaming the boss, spouse, or kids. It’s like I’m not even in the driver’s seat of my own life. But as you said, the adult self is here, in control, and that brings responsibility. Years ago, in a healing workshop, we discussed how “the healing we seek is often found in the last or hardest place we’d think to look.” I’ll share my own example: When I first started working with you, I had facial paralysis. I went through all Western medical procedures—physiotherapy, cortisone treatments—while also beginning my two-year foundational training in Gestalt psychology. Back then, personal growth felt abstract, intangible. Your approach felt natural—rooted in psychology and science. But during that time, I also attended an energy work session (something I’d have laughed at earlier). Through bodywork with you and those energy practices, my face healed significantly—only my right eye muscles remained weak. This firsthand experience showed me how healing emerges where we least expect it. Why does our healing hide in the last place we look? Is it resistance? If our intentions are sincere, will we always find it?

HNS: I’ll answer by framing personal will surrendering to universal will. No one knows where healing lies. In my own struggles—after embracing this awareness—what I do when challenged is define the struggle itself and consent to face it. I don’t obsess over outcomes. We call this the fertile void. Why “void”? Because, unlike going to the store or retiring from a job, I don’t know where I’m headed or what I’ll experience. It’s about the quality of presence: not “taking” but receiving—opening my hands and accepting what comes. I’m not framing this as “a higher power knows better,” but about staying present. Giving myself permission to live each moment deeply frees the next moment. When multiple free moments stack, creativity blooms. I become attuned to possibilities I’d previously missed.

DD: It’s like tuning my frequency to 100—only then can I hear its signal. At 90-95, I’m just flailing, deaf to what’s coming.

HNS: Here’s a metaphor: If I fixate on “I must keep my job, stay healthy, stay happy,” I become blind to anything beyond those fears. But when I focus on the profoundness of the present—giving myself permission to fully experience it—a deep calm emerges. No rushing, no catching up. The urgency is my mind’s projection, not the moment’s truth.

If I close my eyes and ask: How am I breathing? How open are my nostrils? What scents, sounds, textures do I notice? Is the chair warm, cold, smooth, rough?—describing these anchors me. To do this, I must release mental grip. Otherwise, how can I describe the now while worrying about tomorrow’s exam or debt?

DD: Yes, that’s the resistance we’re accustomed to.

HNS: It’s a choice. If you decide not to focus on your body (like the chair example), know this: Whoever commits to this path has already dared to face the darkness and uncertainty at its beginning. Without living through it, you can’t stay on the path. But here’s encouragement: No matter how dark, unknown, or unbearable it seems, if you intend to stay, a possibility aligned with the depth of your intention will open before you—uniquely tailored to your current needs.

DD: That’s why each person’s path and “prescription” will be distinct—their own sacred homeward journey. It reminds me of Bill Plotkin’s metaphor: You build your house with your own hands, brick by brick. But when the call comes, you must be ready to leave it behind, even burn it down, and step into the unknown.

HNS: Let me share a story from 2013. My father passed away on a Sunday. The day before, we’d shared a meal. It was May—he loved jasmine flowers and had just smelled them. His death the next day blindsided me. I wasn’t ready to close that chapter. Shortly after his burial, while walking, a wave of grief hit me: “I miss him so much. I want to see him.” Years earlier, he’d fallen from a building, broken his back, and doctors said he’d lose feeling in his legs and need a wheelchair. Stubbornly, he kept walking—slowly, hunched, dragging his feet. As I cried, I saw a cat with paralyzed hind legs, dragging itself like he did. It felt surreal. By surrendering to the grief instead of resisting it, something unexpected appeared—a substitute, a message. It comforted me.

DD: Like you always say: “Messages come, but are our eyes and ears open?” This is such a precious example.

HNS: When you permit yourself to “get lost” in the experience, you don’t truly lose yourself.

DD: On the contrary! It’s like entering a tunnel you thought had only one exit, but surrender reveals countless doors and paths you never knew existed. Thank you so much.