The puddler’s forge: Red lights and the refining of omnipotence

In my previous article, Omnipotence: The hidden danger, I introduced the idea of “omnipotence,” the feeling of being all-powerful. In this article, I want to expand on it further with an easy-to-understand metaphor.

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The reasons for this are twofold. Firstly, my experience of psychoanalysis is full of jargon and labels, which I do not feel is helpful for the general public. Terms like id, ego, superego, object relations, paranoid schizoid, or omnipotence can feel inaccessible, and confusing.

Secondly, as I mentioned in another article, Gratitude: The Black Country breakfast, I work in the heart of the Black Country, in Dudley, a place that played a vital role in the Industrial Revolution. Coal mining, ironworking, and other industries formed the backbone of working-class life here, shaping the local area.

I come from a long line of working-class families myself and began my career in heavy engineering. Many of my ancestors were ‘puddlers,’ skilled workers who laboured in the intense heat of ironworks, transforming pig iron into wrought iron and changing raw, brittle material into something strong and versatile.

The symbolic parallel to my own work as an analytical psychotherapist is striking. Puddlers worked in extreme heat, stirring molten iron with rods to remove impurities, creating something both strong and flexible. It was tough, relentless labour, but the results were remarkable: raw material transformed into something more hard-wearing.

In many ways, I see therapy as a kind of puddling process. Just as the puddler generates heat and removes impurities from molten iron, in therapy, we work with the raw materials of human experience: pain, fear, hope, and memory. Together, we stir through this emotional “molten iron,” identifying and working through the impurities of unhelpful patterns, unresolved trauma, or beliefs that no longer serve us. Following in my ancestors’ footsteps, you could say I’m an analytical puddler!

Of course, in the Black Country, the term “puddled” is also used to describe someone as daft or mad, and maybe there’s a bit of truth in that too. After all, who but a “puddled” person would spend their days stirring up the emotional heat of therapy, helping others work through their toughest challenges? But just like in the ironworks, it’s in the stirring where the real transformation happens.

Therefore, I want to honour the history of the Black Country and my family by writing in a way that’s grounded in the grit and resilience of the area and its people. My goal is to bring that same down-to-earth approach to thinking about psychological ideas like omnipotence. Just like my ancestors worked to turn pig iron into something strong and useful, I want to turn the concept of omnipotence into something more understandable.

The metaphor I would like to use to begin the “puddling process” is that of a baby equating to a car driving on a road, a “baby car,” if you will. Along the way, the baby car comes across traffic lights or, as a patient reminded me recently, traffic lights in the Black Country are often referred to as “goostops.” These traffic lights or “goostops” represent moments when the baby encounters reality like when something doesn’t go their way or a challenge pops up. No life is completely free of obstacles, so these “traffic lights” symbolise those moments when the baby has to deal with the objective reality.

In the beginning, when things go well, a baby feels like they’re in complete control of their surroundings as if they can change the “traffic lights” at will. When they want to move forward, the light turns green; when they want to stop, it turns red. This reflects the baby’s early belief that they control everything around them, a concept psychoanalysts call “infantile omnipotence.”

Good enough parenting helps the baby maintain this illusion. This sense of omnipotence protects the baby from the harsh reality of their vulnerability and dependence on others for survival. In this way, omnipotence acts as a shield against fear and helplessness. The more threatened the baby feels by these powerful emotions, the stronger their need to hold onto this sense of control.

As the baby grows, they start to notice that the lights don’t always change the way they want. For instance, a parent might not be able to feed them exactly when they begin to feel hungry, or their nappy might not be changed as quickly as they’d like. In these moments, the light stays red when they want it to be green. Most babies encounter red lights for brief periods, which don’t cause too much distress.

What helps the baby tolerate these red lights is the trust they develop in their parent, usually the mother. When the parent consistently meets their needs over time, the baby begins to trust that even if things aren’t perfect right now, they soon will be. This trust becomes a foundation for managing frustration, facing reality, and relinquishing omnipotence in favour of a balanced sense of control.

However, if a child faces too many "red lights”, constant obstacles or impingements, they can start to feel frustrated and helpless. Each red light is like an outside force stopping them from moving forward, which can make them feel like they have no control over their life. Over time, these repeated challenges can lead to developmental traumas, where the baby starts to internalise a belief that the world is unpredictable and terrifying. In contrast, where a good scenario allows the baby to relinquish omnipotence, a traumatic scenario makes them cling to it. They may create an idealised version of reality as a way to cope.

Adults with omnipotent tendencies often struggle with metaphorical red lights, and sometimes even literal ones, demanding a constant stream of green lights. This can manifest in various ways, such as reacting with frustration to minor inconveniences, insisting on having their way or striving for perfection in unrealistic ways.

They may resist limits, avoid compromise, or blame others when things go wrong. Additionally, they might display impatience with delays, an excessive need for validation, or a belief that they can bypass practical realities. These behaviours reflect a deep difficulty in coping with life’s inevitable obstacles.

Sadly, these behaviours aren’t limited to individuals. They also show up on a collective level. One of the clearest examples is how we relate to our environment. As a society, we often act omnipotently by denying environmental limits, resisting change, disconnecting from nature, blaming others for climate issues, and indulging in excessive consumption.

To break this cycle, therapy provides a space to confront and understand these unconscious patterns. It allows individuals to understand and mourn the loss of their early omnipotence and accept reality. As I’ve observed, true growth often begins with loss. An idea captured perfectly by Charles Bukowski: “You have to die a few times before you can really live.”

In many ways, the heat of the puddling process mirrors the heat of primitive rage that often underlies omnipotence. When routines are disrupted or plans go awry, like not being able to park in a usual spot, this seemingly minor inconvenience can ignite intense feelings. These outbursts are not just about the present moment; they are echoes of early, unprocessed experiences where “red lights” evoked overwhelming emotions that the infant’s mind could not integrate.

Wilfred Bion’s concept of containment helps us understand this dynamic: when a caregiver is unable to contain and soothe the baby’s powerful emotions, these intense effects remain unprocessed and resurface later in life, often with disproportionate force.

Analytical psychotherapy is not about constantly giving the patient "green lights" by indulging their expectations or avoiding discomfort. Instead, it often involves presenting "red lights" in a safe and insightful way. Much like a puddler in the ironworks, whose role is to stir and agitate molten iron to remove impurities and strengthen the final product, the therapist’s job is to "stir things up."

By gently challenging unrealistic expectations, setting boundaries, or reflecting back patterns of entitlement or avoidance, the therapist creates moments of necessary tension and reflection. These red lights, while challenging, are essential for meaningful refinement of omnipotence.

However, the process of stirring up these emotions reveals another layer: the brittleness of omnipotence itself. Much like pig iron; raw, unrefined, and prone to breaking under pressure. Omnipotence acts as a fragile defence, concealing unprocessed emotions and unresolved rage.

Just as puddling transforms pig iron into something stronger and more flexible, therapy works to refine these primitive emotions, helping individuals process the heat of their rage and build resilience. Through the therapeutic process, these powerful effects can be stirred, contained, named, and integrated, allowing the person to respond to life’s red lights with greater balance and adaptability.

But the transformation doesn’t end at the individual level. As people grow stronger, more flexible, and better equipped to handle life’s obstacles, they also become more mindful of their connections to others and to the world around them. This growth has profound implications at a global level, especially in how we approach shared challenges like climate change. By relinquishing the illusion of omnipotent control and embracing responsibility, we can collectively move toward a more sustainable and balanced way of living, one that acknowledges limits, fosters cooperation, and respects the environment.

As I reflect on my own journey from the factory floor to the therapist’s chair. I’m reminded that growth often begins with struggle, whether in the molten heat of the forge or the emotional intensity of the therapeutic room. Both require courage, patience, and a willingness to confront discomfort. And just as my ancestors’ work shaped the steel that built the industrial world, the work we do in therapy shapes lives, helping people not only build something stronger within themselves but also contribute to a stronger, more sustainable world.

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The views expressed in this article are those of the author. All articles published on Counselling Directory are reviewed by our editorial team.

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Dudley DY3 & Wolverhampton WV14
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Written by Shane Sneyd
MBACP, BPC & BAPPS
location_on Dudley DY3 & Wolverhampton WV14
Shane Sneyd - Jungian Analytical Psychotherapist I am accredited with BACP, BPC & BAPPS. I worked 15 years in the NHS. Currently, I work full-time in private practice in Dudley.
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