When the Writer Is Sitting Opposite Me
Analysing handwriting is one thing.
Talking to the person who produced it is something entirely different.
A handwriting analysis may suggest emotional patterns, behavioural tendencies, internal conflicts, strengths, sensitivities and areas that deserve further exploration. Drawings may add another dimension and sometimes direct attention towards experiences or developmental periods from the past.
But once the writer is sitting opposite me, the handwriting is no longer merely material to be analysed.
There is a person behind it.
And knowing what to say, what not to say, when to ask and when to remain silent becomes as important as the analysis itself.
Before the First Meeting
When individuals approach me privately, I normally ask them to provide handwriting samples and drawings before our first consultation.
This allows me to study the material without being influenced initially by appearance, manner of speaking, education, social position or the person's own explanation of the problem.
By the time we meet, I already have an impression of certain areas that I may want to explore.
This changes the nature of the first conversation.
I do not need to begin simply with:
“Tell me about yourself.”
Instead, I can ask more focused questions.
But there is an important distinction.
The purpose of those questions is not to prove that my analysis was correct.
The purpose is to discover whether what I observed in the handwriting or drawings has meaning within the person's actual life.
Why I Prefer Questions to Statements
Earlier in my professional life, I was sometimes more direct in telling people what I observed.
Experience taught me to become more careful.
I once analysed the handwriting of a senior company executive and described him as domineering.
He was deeply offended.
From my perspective, I was describing a behavioural characteristic. From his perspective, I had said something much more personal.
His father had been an extremely domineering and controlling man. The experience affected him so strongly that he eventually left both his home and his country, promising himself that he would never become like his father.
When I used the word domineering, he did not simply hear a personality description.
He heard:
“You have become the person you spent your life trying not to become.”
The incident taught me an important lesson.
The meaning of a personality characteristic does not exist only in the analyst's definition of it.
It also exists in the life experience of the person hearing it.
Since then, I have increasingly preferred questions to declarations.
The Same Characteristic Can Have Different Meanings
Suppose I observe a strong need for control.
I could simply tell the person:
“You are controlling.”
But what have I actually achieved?
For one person, control may provide security.
For another, it may compensate for anxiety.
Another may have learned very early that depending upon other people leads to disappointment.
Another may simply be highly organised and responsible.
And yet another may genuinely attempt to control everybody around him.
The visible behavioural pattern may appear similar.
The psychological meaning may be completely different.
So instead of announcing:
“You are controlling,”
I might explore:
“How comfortable are you when somebody else takes responsibility for something important?”
Or:
“What happens when things don't go according to your plan?”
Now the person is not being labelled.
He is being invited to think.
That difference can completely change the conversation.
Discovery Is More Powerful Than Disclosure
There is another reason I do not rush.
People generally accept something about themselves more readily when they recognise it than when somebody else announces it to them.
A person may have lived with a behavioural pattern for decades without ever asking why it exists.
Perhaps it has always seemed normal.
Perhaps it has been explained away.
Perhaps it has been uncomfortable but impossible to define.
Many people know that something in their lives does not feel right, yet they cannot put their finger on exactly what it is.
The handwriting may suggest where to begin looking.
The conversation gives that observation context.
And gradually the person may begin making connections:
“Yes, I do that.”
Then:
“I never thought about why I do it.”
And eventually:
“Perhaps this is where it comes from.”
That process is very different from handing somebody a list of personality characteristics.
We Do Not Need to Discover Everything Today
There is no prize for reaching the deepest subject during the first consultation.
Trust takes time.
People protect themselves for reasons.
Sometimes they genuinely do not remember.
Sometimes they remember but do not yet understand the significance.
Sometimes they know perfectly well but are not ready to discuss it.
And sometimes what appears to be resistance is simply disagreement—the interpretation may be wrong.
All these possibilities must remain open.
This is why I am not in a rush.
Each conversation can uncover another layer. As confidence develops, people often become more comfortable discussing matters they would never have mentioned during an initial meeting.
Depth cannot be demanded. It has to be allowed to develop.
When the Person Disagrees
A handwriting interpretation should never become an argument between the analyst and the writer.
If I raise something and the person says:
“That isn't me,”
the correct response is not:
“Yes it is. Your handwriting proves it.”
Perhaps the person does not recognise the characteristic.
Perhaps the terminology is wrong.
Perhaps the characteristic appears only under particular circumstances.
Perhaps another personality characteristic modifies it.
Or perhaps my interpretation needs reconsideration.
The conversation itself therefore becomes additional information.
The purpose is understanding, not winning.
The Past Requires Particular Care
Handwriting and especially drawings may sometimes raise questions concerning earlier emotional experiences, relationships or particular developmental periods.
This can lead to very meaningful exploration.
It also requires considerable responsibility.
Memory is not a perfect recording of the past. The way a question is asked can influence how a person searches for an answer.
Therefore, I must be especially careful not to suggest an event and then encourage the person to “remember” it.
If something in a drawing leads me towards a particular period of childhood, I can explore that period.
I can ask what life was like.
Who was important?
What changed?
What does the person remember feeling?
But there is a substantial difference between helping someone explore memory and providing the memory for them.
Handwriting and drawings may indicate where it could be worthwhile to look.
They cannot substitute for the person's history or establish an event merely because an interpretation appears to fit.
Sometimes the Question Matters More Than the Answer
A good question can remain with a person long after the consultation has ended.
Why is it so difficult for me to ask for help?
Why do I become uncomfortable when somebody gets emotionally close?
Why do I need everything to be under control?
Why does criticism affect me so strongly even when I know it is unfair?
Why am I constantly trying to prove that I can manage alone?
The purpose of handwriting analysis in a personal consultation is not necessarily to provide an immediate answer to every one of these questions.
Sometimes its greatest value is helping us discover which questions need to be asked.
A Personality Is Not a List of Adjectives
There is also an ethical reason to avoid simply describing somebody's personality from beginning to end.
People are sensitive to labels.
Even apparently neutral words can carry painful associations.
Dominant.
Dependent.
Insecure.
Rigid.
Emotionally restrained.
Each may be descriptively useful in professional analysis, yet each may mean something completely different to the person hearing it.
This is why I prefer to describe behaviour and dynamics rather than attach labels.
Instead of saying:
“You are dependent,”
we might explore what happens when an important relationship feels uncertain.
Instead of:
“You are insecure,”
we might examine situations in which confidence changes.
Instead of:
“You suppress emotion,”
we might ask what happens when strong feelings begin to surface.
The characteristic has not been avoided.
It has been made understandable.
Handwriting Opens the Door – Conversation Enters the Room
Handwriting and drawings can provide an unusual starting point for understanding a person.
They may allow us to begin the conversation somewhere deeper than would otherwise be possible.
But they are not the conversation itself.
The analysis provides observations.
The questions test and explore them.
The person's experiences provide context.
And gradually the different pieces may begin to connect.
That is why personal handwriting consultation should never be a performance in which the analyst impresses the client by revealing secrets.
The objective is not:
“Look how much I know about you.”
It is:
“Let us see how much you can understand about yourself.”
Beyond the Obvious
The handwriting may show me something before the writer has spoken.
But knowing something, or believing that I have recognised something, does not automatically give me the right to announce it.
Professional responsibility begins with the analysis.
Human responsibility begins with what we do with it.
Sometimes I speak.
Sometimes I ask.
Sometimes I wait.
And sometimes I change my mind.
The purpose is not to make the person fit the handwriting analysis.
It is to use the analysis as one way of helping the person explore patterns, experiences and connections that may otherwise remain difficult to recognise.
The handwriting may point towards the door.
The person must decide whether, when and how to open it.
That is the journey from analysis to understanding.