enosdrive (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} enosdrive) wrote,@ 2008-06-27 15:35:00 |
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Psychotherapy: The Profession of Death
Hmmm, I'm poopy not sure what to talk about today, man. Maybe I won't talk about much. I hates bein' a therapist. No, I mean, I really do like it, but the one aspect I hate, hate, hate, hate about it is havin' 2 say goodbye to clients. It's the suckiest poopy-poop thing in the world. Does it get easier, man? I mean, okay, final session, and then it's goodbye forever. And it's like, they'll go on and live their lives, and then they'll die; and, similarly, I'll go on and live my life, and I'll die, and we'll never see each other, and then we'll be dead.
It's weird. I mean, I talked to a supervisor the other day, and we talked about that very issue, and he talked about all the people we meet up with in our regular lives, who we never see again; and it's like, when you part, you say, "hey, keep in touch!" Remember our old high-school year books? People would write their phone numbers in 'em and then they'd write, next to 'em, "K.I.T.", as in, "keep in touch." And I'd think to myself, I've never called you before, why would I start callin' you now, just cuz it's summer vacation? Or just cuz we're graduatin', and all? There're lots of people we'll never see again, even though we have very good intentions to see 'em again. But, of course, we lose touch if there ain't enuff of a connection to keep things going.
So, I mean, you could say it's kind of like that when you say goodbye to clients. But, when the separation is so enforced, it really brings it front and center. In the soon-time, I will be dead to my clients, and they will be dead to me. Similarly, me and my therapist will be dead to each other, cuz I have to move and stop seein' him. Argh. I mean, sure, we'll carry around nice memories of each other, right? And we can imagine each other going on to live nice, happy lives. But, in real life, we're facin' each other's deaths. This is the profession of death. I mean, when I came on-board the Psychotherapy Boat, and decided to start a-learnin' this stuff, I thought, oh, how nice, helping people. I didn't know I'd have to face death so often. It's poopy.
Hmmm, I'm poopy not sure what to talk about today, man. Maybe I won't talk about much. I hates bein' a therapist. No, I mean, I really do like it, but the one aspect I hate, hate, hate, hate about it is havin' 2 say goodbye to clients. It's the suckiest poopy-poop thing in the world. Does it get easier, man? I mean, okay, final session, and then it's goodbye forever. And it's like, they'll go on and live their lives, and then they'll die; and, similarly, I'll go on and live my life, and I'll die, and we'll never see each other, and then we'll be dead.
It's weird. I mean, I talked to a supervisor the other day, and we talked about that very issue, and he talked about all the people we meet up with in our regular lives, who we never see again; and it's like, when you part, you say, "hey, keep in touch!" Remember our old high-school year books? People would write their phone numbers in 'em and then they'd write, next to 'em, "K.I.T.", as in, "keep in touch." And I'd think to myself, I've never called you before, why would I start callin' you now, just cuz it's summer vacation? Or just cuz we're graduatin', and all? There're lots of people we'll never see again, even though we have very good intentions to see 'em again. But, of course, we lose touch if there ain't enuff of a connection to keep things going.
So, I mean, you could say it's kind of like that when you say goodbye to clients. But, when the separation is so enforced, it really brings it front and center. In the soon-time, I will be dead to my clients, and they will be dead to me. Similarly, me and my therapist will be dead to each other, cuz I have to move and stop seein' him. Argh. I mean, sure, we'll carry around nice memories of each other, right? And we can imagine each other going on to live nice, happy lives. But, in real life, we're facin' each other's deaths. This is the profession of death. I mean, when I came on-board the Psychotherapy Boat, and decided to start a-learnin' this stuff, I thought, oh, how nice, helping people. I didn't know I'd have to face death so often. It's poopy.
