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.