Category Archives: Stories

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Humor is an essential element of therapy. I once read that if you don’t have at least one laugh during a therapy session, it wasn’t a good session. A lot of my humor comes from my family. I was raised in a very loud, dramatic, funny Irish American family. My grandparents on my mother’s side were from Ireland. My father was ¾ Irish and one quarter French Canadian. My mother’s family was the dominant family in our lives. Much of the humor was fueled by alcohol, but there were many humorous incidents. Once one of my uncles convinced my father and the other brother-in-laws to help him at his lake cottage. It was a very warm day and the work was hard. At the end of the day he suggested they all go for a swim. . Since they didn’t have bathing suits they all went nude into the water. My uncle snuck out and got a spotlight out of his car. Every time one of the guys would try and get out of the water he would shine the spotlight on them so everyone around the lake could see them. This went on for about half an hour. They finally rushed him and threw him in the water with all his clothes. This was the same uncle who as a child gave all of his friends ExLax as candy.

I remember another family party when I was about 14. The men were in my cousin’s basement and one of my aunts wondered why I didn’t go down and “join the arguing with the rest of them!” I think laughter is one of the most important ways to work thru depression and anxiety. If you can find a way to laugh at yourself and your situation, it can be the start of a healing process. Obviously when there is a loss and grief is foremost that has to be dealt with, but laughter is often the way to begin. Irish wakes are an example. Many of the stories about Irish wakes are indeed true. Bars around funeral homes were often extremely profitable. It’s not so much that you’re celebrating death (although that was the case with some of my relatives), as much as recognizing mortality and celebrating the life of the person who died. James Joyce wrote about this in “Finnegan’s Wake”. This was his retelling of an old Irish story of someone waking up at his own wake because of the noise of the celebration.

I would often try and get my patients to smile and laugh. I would try and do this at my own expense or by gently confronting them about their own behavior. Confrontation is often misunderstood. It doesn’t mean yelling, screaming and insulting someone. It just means presenting their behavior to them and asking them to consider alternatives. Salvador Minuchin had one of the best descriptions of how to confront someone. He said “Before you hit someone over the head, you have to pat them on the back three times”. There has to be a relationship first before any confrontation can occur. It can happen in the first session depending on how it goes. I would often try and “join” an individual, couple, or family by imitating their speech patterns or language. I would try and share an experience they had by telling one of my own just to become part of their experience. I think my own belief in not trying to take myself so seriously helped in this. I always thought that it wasn’t me that was getting someone better—that was up to them. My job was to present an accurate picture of their lives and their problems so they could work on making a decision to change.

The decision to change is often very difficult. Often even the thought of change is overwhelming. There were even some people who came in and saw death, even suicide, as the only solution. I would always take this seriously and try and get them to make some type of agreement with me to not hurt themselves. If they couldn’t do it, I would hospitalize them. Sometimes people would lie and make attempts to kill or injure themselves. Unfortunately some of them were successful. This was always difficult to accept and work thru. I am probably still working thru some of it. I often remember my failures more than my successes. The ability to laugh at myself usually helps. I know that over the last seventy years I have provided myself with enough material. I just have to keep working on the jokes.

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The thing is I’m not good with names. At least once a day I’ll try to tell someone something about a person in the news or TV and I’ll blank out. I’ll say “you know the one with ‘What’s His Name in it’ ”. My wife will have the same blank look on her face and we may go on for 10 or 15 minutes having this mysterious conversation that only we can understand. I’ve talked to other people our age and they have the same experience. I have even been in conversations with a group of us where we all are lost for the specific identity of individuals/movies/books etc. We all sound like we’re talking in code until someone comes up with the right answer and we all nod appreciatively.

I can remember the plot and major content. It’s just the names that escape me.

I know that when I was working I would have difficulty with names, but as soon as I saw the person, or read some of my notes, the whole case would come back to me.

I have always liked fiction over non-fiction. The “story” would grab me and I would be immersed in another world—no matter how strange or different from my own. When people came to see me, I would have them tell me their story. I would ask questions as to why they came and what they wanted. I would fill in the blanks by doing a fairly structured interview. I was literally opening a book on their lives. To this day I may not remember patient’s names, but if I see them I can remember their stories. I think the ability to listen, really listen, is a skill that can be learned by any therapist. It’s important to be patient and just let people talk. Sometimes that’s all they need.

I once saw an elderly WW2 veteran who kept getting in trouble with the police and his neighbors. He would appear threatening and the police would be called. After a number of these occurrences he was arrested. He was “sentenced” to come and see me. After a few sessions it became apparent that all he wanted was to be listened to. His wife was in early stages of dementia and he had no real family support. He just wanted to talk. He would come in and talk and talk. He reminded me of the old time radio host Paul Harvey. I didn’t really say much back to him except for him to not threaten his neighbors or he would have more serious consequences. He would always leave the sessions telling the staff and me how much he liked our time together. He just needed someone to listen to his stories.

Some stories that people told were very common and some were over the top. There was a heroin addicted dominatrix with an autistic son. There was a 62 y/o Vietnam veteran who suddenly was overcome with memories of the war. There were parents who didn’t know what to do with their 14 y/o daughter who was telling them what to with their lives. Wives who didn’t like the way their husbands dressed because it embarrassed them and on and on.

Maybe in our lives now we really don’t have enough people who really will listen. I know we can email and text and twitter, but maybe we still need someone who is there to talk to.

It’s not just being there, it really is listening. I know sometimes I fade out with my wife. She can be talking and I’m really not hearing her. I know many of my friends have laughed and said the same things happen in their marriages. However when it really is important we can be there for each other. I think a lot of people who go to see therapists don’t have that. They can have the appearance of good friends, good relationships, but no one that can really be “there” when they need to talk. We all have stories that need to be told. It’s the finding someone to listen that’s the hard part.