and withhold this?»
«You never took a drink with me, not even a beer. What wasthat all
about?»
«Goddamn it! When I think of all the wild–goose chases you led us
on, all the time we wasted.»
«What kind of game were you playing?—everything a lie—I mean
that stuff about Rose`s problems—her bitchiness, her refusing sex, her
refusal to have a child, and not a word about the real issue—your
drinking.»
Once Julius got his bearings, he understood what to do. A basic
axiom that he taught to his group therapy students was:Members should
never be punished for self–disclosure. On the contrary, risk taking must
always be supported and reinforced.
With that in mind, he said to the group: «I understand your dismay
that Gill never told us this before. But let`s not forget one important
thing:today Gill did open up, he did trust us. ” As he spoke, he glanced,
only for a moment, at Philip, hoping that Philip would learn something
about therapy from this transaction. Then to Gill: «What I`m wondering
about iswhat made it possible for you to take this kind of chance today? ”
Gill, too ashamed to face the others, concentrated his attention on
Julius and replied in a chastened tone. «I guess it was the risky revealing
in the last couple of meetings—beginning with Pam and Philip and then
Rebecca and Stuart—I`m pretty sure that was why I could say—”
«How long?» interrupted Rebecca. «How long have you been an
alcoholic?»
«Creeps up on you, you know, so I`m not sure. I always liked the
booze, but I guess I started meeting all the criteria about five years ago.»
«You`re what kind of an alcoholic?» asked Tony.
«My favorite poison is Scotch, cabernet, and black Russians. But I
don`t turn down anything—vodka, gin—totally ambidextrous.»
«What I meant was вЂ?when` and вЂ?how much,`” said Tony.
Gill showed no defensiveness and seemed prepared to answer any
question. «Mostly after hours. I start with Scotches as soon as I get home
(or before I get home if Rose is giving me a hard time), and then I work
my way through good wine the rest of the evening—at least a bottle,
sometimes two, until I pass out in front of the TV.»
«Where`s Rose on this?» asked Pam.
«Well, we used to be big wine buffs together, built a two–thousand–bottle cellar, went to auctions. But she`s not encouraging my drinking
now—now she rarely has a glass at dinner and wants no part of any wine–related activities, except for some of her big social wine–tasting events.»
Julius tried again to buck the current and bring the group back to the
here–and–now. «I`m trying to imagine how you must have felt coming to
meeting after meeting here andnot talking about this.»
«It wasn`t easy,” Gill admitted, shaking his head.
Julius always taught students the difference betweenvertical
andhorizontal self–disclosure. The group was pressing, as expected,
forvertical disclosure—details about the past, including such queries as the
scope and duration of his drinking—whereashorizontal disclosure, that
is,disclosure about the disclosure, was always far more productive.
This meeting was vintage stuff for teaching, Julius mused, and he
reminded himself to remember the sequence of events for future lectures
and writing. And then, with a thud, he recalled that the future had no
relevance for him. Though the poisonous black wart had been carved out
of his shoulder, he knew that somewhere in his body lethal colonies of
melanoma remained, voracious cells that craved life more than his own
fatigued cells. They were there, pulsating, gulping oxygen and nutrients,
growing and gathering strength. And his dark thoughts were always there
also, percolating under the membrane of consciousness. Thank God for his
one method of stilling his terror: entering into life as forcefully as
possible. The extraordinarily intense life being lived in this group was
very good medicine for him.
He pressed Gill, «Say more about what passed through your mind
during all those months of group meetings.»
«What do you mean?» said Gill.
«Well, you said, вЂ?It wasn`t easy.` Say more about that, about those
meetings and why it wasn`t easy.»
«I`d come here all primed but never could unload; something
always stopped me.»
«Dig into that—thesomething that stopped you.» Julius rarely was
so directive in the group, but he was convinced that he knew how to move
the discussion in a beneficial direction that the group might not take on its
own.
«I like this group,” Gill said. «These are the most important people
in my life. I`ve never been a real member of anything before. I was afraid
I`d lose my place, lose any credibility—exactly like what`s happening
now. Right now. People hate drunks...the group will want to boot me
out...you`ll tell me to go to AA. The group will judge me, not help me.»
That was exactly the cue Julius had been waiting for. He moved
quickly.
«Gill, look around the room—tell me, who are the judges here?»
«Everyone`s a judge.»
«All identically? I doubt it. Try to discriminate. Look around the
group. Who are the main judges?»
Gill kept his gaze on Julius. «Well, Tony can come down on you
pretty hard, but no, not on this—he likes his booze, too. That what you
want?»
Julius nodded encouragement.
«Bonnie?» Gill continued to speak directly to Julius. «No, she`s no
judge—except of herself and, once in a while, of Rebecca—she`s always
gentle with me. Stuart, well, he`s one of the judges; he definitely has a
self–righteous streak. Pretty goody–goody sometimes. And Rebecca, for
sure—I hear a lot of directives: be like me, be sure, be thorough, be
dressed right, be washed, be neat. That why I felt released when Rebecca
and Stuart showed so much vulnerability: that made it possible for me to
open up. And Pam—she`sthe judge. Chief justice. No doubt about it. I
know she thinks I`m weak, unfair to Rose, you name it, everything about
me is wrong. I don`t have much hope of pleasing her—in fact, I don`t
haveany hope.» He halted. «Guess that`s it,” he said, scanning the group.
