Living Interdisciplinary Collaboration (or least trying to)
By Jessica Matus, MA, BCBA, LBA
As we’ve noted, communities of practice involve the sharing of stories, as they are practitioner spaces, which recognize the value of many ways of knowing about our work, exploring diverse perspectives, as told through our real life experiences. Over the next few weeks and months, we’ll be sharing some of those stories—the topics that each of us are passionate about, reflecting the range of experiences we all bring to the lab table. This week, Jessica Matus shares her story, we hope you enjoy it!
Collaboration begins with presence. Shared purpose grows from awareness. Before any coordinated effort, there is a moment of noticing. Every person who enters a conversation carries a history, experiences, curiosities, and reasons for being there. Even pausing to ask what brought me here becomes part of collaboration, awareness comes first.
My relationship with collaboration began long before my research. Early in my career, I learned what it feels like to feel welcomed and what it feels like to feel peripheral. There were environments where my presence flowed easily and others where it felt complicated. Underneath that were subtle signals, tension, and uncertainty about belonging. There were days I sat in my car before sessions, steadying myself. Those experiences shaped how I understand collaboration, inclusion and exclusion live in the body. As my role evolved, collaboration continued to shape me. There were moments of openness and moments of ambiguity about how my contributions fit. Over time, those experiences influenced my behavior. I became more careful, more quieter at times. Meetings carried anticipation beforehand and relief afterward. Quiet internal rules formed about how to move through those spaces. The contingencies around contribution shaped my repertoire, and avoidance gradually became part of it. Collaboration has also shaped my life as a parent. Navigating systems of support, evaluations, meetings, and updates brought another layer of awareness. I have experienced conversations grounded in listening and conversations that felt misaligned. Those experiences clarified something essential: collaboration is emotional work. It touches belonging, safety, and whether everyone involved is seen as capable of contributing meaningfully.
To me, living interdisciplinary collaboration means staying engaged across difference. It is the ongoing practice of working with people whose training, language, values, and histories differ from mine. It means sitting at a table with educators, therapists, administrators, families, students, and your own children, knowing that everyone arrives with a different map. Sometimes it feels like we come from entirely different islands. We bring different assumptions, different fears, different histories, and different expertise. Sometimes collaboration feels natural. Sometimes it feels heavy. When it feels hard, what do we do?
This is where RFT and ACT give me something steady to lean on in collaborative spaces. I struggle in these contexts. I still do. My nervous system reacts. My thoughts speed up. I start scanning for clarity and alignment. When conversations feel uncertain or misaligned, I feel the tension in my body. There is an urge to fix it or withdraw from it.
RFT helps me understand what is happening in those moments. Language performs unseen work in every interaction. Language functions as behavior shaped by history and reinforcement. Words carry networks of meaning. A single phrase can shift the emotional temperature of a room. The same sentence can function as encouragement for one person and frustration for another because of the learning histories attached to it. When I remember that, I can slow down and become curious about what language is doing in context rather than reacting to surface meaning.
ACT gives me a way to stay engaged. Psychological flexibility becomes something I can practice in real time. I can notice the internal surge, acknowledge it, and choose how I want to respond. I can ask what value I want to move toward at that moment. That question changes the direction of my behavior.
The Constellations community has strengthened this practice for me. In that space, people from different backgrounds and disciplines come together with a shared commitment to thoughtful dialogue. There is depth, vulnerability, and a sense of safety that allows people to question their own assumptions. Difference remains present, yet it becomes something to explore rather than something to defend against. Being part of this community reminds me that interdisciplinary collaboration can feel energizing and expansive. It shows me that when awareness and shared values anchor the work, collective intelligence becomes possible.
Living interdisciplinary collaboration does not mean everything feels easy. It means remaining in the shared labor even when discomfort arises. It means recognizing that we are different and choosing to work together anyway. It means crossing islands without trying to erase them.
At least, that is what I am trying to do.
