Therapy

Fifteen years ago I went to a shrink--I apologize--a therapist. Yes, he called himself that. It was a grand time. He had a nice Lazy-Boy recliner and the office had a beautiful view of Minneapolis and I would kick back, listen to mellow music, give him $90, and walk out. 

Nothing of value was accomplished, but I looked forward to meeting my rent-a-friend each week. It was very relaxing. He had this big old white board in there on which he'd draw deep psychological truths.

"Most of what you know about yourself is here." At this point he draw the tip of a mountain. "That's because you can't see beneath this." Here he drew a squiggly line that was supposed to represent water. I commented that there must not have been art classes in psycho school, but he ignored me.

"Down here is the rest of you, below the waterline, and these motivations are hidden."

"They're also wet, right?" That's me again, loopy from relaxation.

"Not wet, hidden." He actually took my last comment seriously, a very bad sign.

I asked him if he knew what lay beneath the waterline. He felt like he had a good idea. All his expertise, ya know.

"Let's compare," I said. "I make regular dives to the core of my being. You go first. You tell me what some of my real issues are, then I'll tell you some."

He went for a bathroom break. A long one. By the time he came back I had eaten all his Andes mints, you know those chocolate buggers with the green mint layer inside?

His jaw dropped. "Do you know how much cholesterol those have in them?" See, my elevated cholesterol had come up in an earlier discussion.

"Nope. I bet a lot. Do you have more?"

The bell rang. Time for the next friend. 

That was my last visit to the shrink. I never did find out what lurked deep beneath my waterline. That's probably for the better. Why bring this up? Oh those Andes chocolates popped into my mind. I'm having a craving. That's all.

Comments

[Dayna]

Fabulous! When we meet in October during the Chippewa Valley Book Festival I'll tell you the one about the guy who looked like Elvis Costello - Well, really, only his glasses did. He charged $195.00 an hour. I'll save his deep, psychiatric "punch line" to tell you in person...