Dry humor or wet seriousness #6: Utmost trivia, but quirky

 

🚀  Nine out of ten clients (yes, I’ve counted, sort of) who name units of duration or times of past events say “-and-a-half.” That is, nothing in their lives ever lasted for one or two or eight months or years, or happened two or four or six months or years ago. It is always “one-and-a-half” or “three-and-a-half” time packets. They’ve been sober of alco­hol for two-and-a-half months. They split with their partner four-and-a-half months ago. They stayed in college for one-and-a-half semesters or years then got a job. They’ve lived on their own for the past five-and-a-half months. They’ve been depressed for two-and-a-half years. I swear to God-and-a-half! There must be some reason the dysfunc­tional brain doesn’t feel good about a lesser or greater whole number. This may be related to the old advertising psychology that determined sticker prices should be $5.99 rather than $6.00. People are afraid to commit and must fog or false-specify! That prob­ably says terrible things about them.

🚀  Clients present no offense through the entirety of their first (assessment) session. But upon getting up to leave, they have an obvious flatulent moment. Why can’t they hold on for another two minutes? Was it that anxious an event? Are they saying something about me? I don’t know. I remain silent and deadly afraid to ask.

🚀  Scientists talk shop, have rigorous enlightening discussions, cooperate with other sci­en­tists. Atheists debate believers. Philosophers go to conferences, where they confer. Media pundits argue with each other. Therapists, on the other hand, don’t talk to their cohort because they don’t need anyone telling them about human nature. They already know the whole of it instinctively. I used to attend meetings with my fellow clinicians, but they were just adminis­trative meetings. I haven’t heard of a clinical brain­storm session in many years. We all pass each other in the hallways like worms in the night earth. I recently got in mild trouble for suggesting to All Staff, in humor, that some clients may be “ditzy.” Horrors. All think it and none must say it: There would be a groupquake of embar­rass­ment or prissy anger.

🚀  I am extremely pleased that I have only rarely, very rarely, treated a deeply or immi­nently suicidal client. (This refers to individual therapy. I have worked, in the past, at crisis centers and at hospitals, where many individuals were actionably suicidal.) While we can accept the jaded wisdom that the most suicidal people isolate themselves, give only covert signs, and may not come to therapy, I still find it interesting that my thousands of psychotherapy clients over the years have gener­ally been survivable. Certainly I would like to think that our deep, bond-like empathic contact flips a switch toward life in the worst-off clients. But it’s probably simpler than that: Most people aren’t suicidal.

🚀  If memory serves, only one client has gotten angry with me – that is, given any gross or subtle sign of it – in twenty-three years. If this isn’t ridiculous, I don’t know what is. I say many controversial, idiosyncratic and offensive things. “Your parents are toxic.” “Some people have never left the starting gate of life. They are still babies on fire in the crib.” “You can’t intellec­tualize and story-tell your way to healing.” “You are being euthy­mic: fake happy. That defense can keep you from being your real self for your entire life.” “Your mother is a solipsist. She has never seen you for who you are, ever. You are invisible to her.” “You are living in your severed head.” “You are forty-and-a-half, and the umbil­ical cord is still attached.” “The past is not the past. It is your root system that continues to feed every leaf and branch on the tree.” “You will need to leave your parents’ home to have the best chance of being your own person.” Why haven’t people been incensed by any of these statements? What do I have to do to piss them off?