The Referral
Sometimes I cut all the bull and get really vulnerable for a second. Lord knows I try to avoid it. Occasionally though, I grow weary of trying to protect myself.
Been hanging out with my mother, and tonight she was pretty down. It usually takes a lot for this to happen because she's a constant generator of optimism. She usually makes enough for herself and the rest of the family. (I did not inherit this trait.) She began to talk to me, unprovoked, about her marriage (or ex-marriage) to my father. She was blaming herself for the things that went wrong and then apologized for ruining my life. She thinks I'm showing symptoms of having never had parents who were kind to each other. Then she recommended that I go see a psychologist.
Whatever. This is not a new thing for me. This is strike number 2 for the summer.
I could've spewed a lot of the soundbites that parents like to hear from their kids, the ones that reassure them that there really is nothing wrong, it's all in your head, the ones I've used for twenty odd years ... but instead I just looked at her and said, "Yes, there's something there. There's stuff going on. But it's been there for a while. I can handle it. At this point, I don't think I would know what to do without it."
It would seem as if the right thing to do would be to go to the psychologist. But, other than the fact that the visit is more to ease my mother's conscience than mine, another fact remains - I was telling the truth; in a way, I think I need to feel downtrodden. It's like it defines me. I wouldn't know what to do with happiness. Anyway, Sigmund Freud often expressed (more eloquently and scientifically than I will do here) the view that psychology should be used to make people feel okay about being miserable. If this is the case, I don't need therapy. I've got that one in the bag.
Been hanging out with my mother, and tonight she was pretty down. It usually takes a lot for this to happen because she's a constant generator of optimism. She usually makes enough for herself and the rest of the family. (I did not inherit this trait.) She began to talk to me, unprovoked, about her marriage (or ex-marriage) to my father. She was blaming herself for the things that went wrong and then apologized for ruining my life. She thinks I'm showing symptoms of having never had parents who were kind to each other. Then she recommended that I go see a psychologist.
Whatever. This is not a new thing for me. This is strike number 2 for the summer.
I could've spewed a lot of the soundbites that parents like to hear from their kids, the ones that reassure them that there really is nothing wrong, it's all in your head, the ones I've used for twenty odd years ... but instead I just looked at her and said, "Yes, there's something there. There's stuff going on. But it's been there for a while. I can handle it. At this point, I don't think I would know what to do without it."
It would seem as if the right thing to do would be to go to the psychologist. But, other than the fact that the visit is more to ease my mother's conscience than mine, another fact remains - I was telling the truth; in a way, I think I need to feel downtrodden. It's like it defines me. I wouldn't know what to do with happiness. Anyway, Sigmund Freud often expressed (more eloquently and scientifically than I will do here) the view that psychology should be used to make people feel okay about being miserable. If this is the case, I don't need therapy. I've got that one in the bag.
This entry was posted
on June 26, 2005 at 2:46 AM.
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