crowd.... I hand
down my work to
the thinking
individuals who
in the course
of time will
appear as rare
exceptions.
They will feel
as I felt, or
as a
shipwrecked
sailor feels on
a desert island
for whom the
trace of a
former fellow
sufferer
affords more
consolation
than do all the
cockatoos and
apes in the
trees.
_________________________
«I`d like to continue where we left off,” said Julius, opening the
next meeting. Speaking stiffly, as though from a prepared text, he
rushed on, «Like most therapists I know, I`m pretty open about
myself to close friends. It`s not easy for me to come up with a
revelation as raw and pristine and right out there on the edge as
those some of you have shared recently. But there is an incident
I`ve revealed only once in my life—and that was years ago to a
very close friend.»
Pam, sitting next to Julius, interrupted. Putting her hand on
his arm, she said, «Whoa, whoa, Julius.You don`t need to do this.
You`ve been bullied into this by Philip, and now, after Tony
exposed his bullshit motives, even Philip has apologized for
requesting it. I, for one, don`t want you to put yourself through
this.»
Others agreed, pointing out that Julius shared his feelings all
the time in the group and that Philip`s I–thou contract was a setup.
Gill added, «Things are getting blurred here. All of us are
here for help. My life`s a mess—you saw that last week. But so far
as I know, Julius,you`re not having problems with intimacy. So
what`s the point?»
«The other week,” Rebecca said, in her clipped precise
speech, «you said I revealed myself in order to give Philip a gift.
That was partially correct—but not the whole truth: now I realize I
also wanted to shield him from Pam`s rage. However, that said, my
point is...whatis my point? My point is that confessing what I did
in Las Vegas was good therapy for me—I`m relieved to have
gotten it out. But you`re here to help me, and it`s not going to help
me one bit for you to reveal yourself.»
Julius was taken aback—such strong consensus was an
oddity in this group. But he thought he knew what was happening.
«I sense a lot of concern about my illness—a lot of taking care of
me, not wanting to stress me. Right?»
«Maybe,” said Pam, «but for me there`s more—there`s
something in me that doesn`twant you to divulge something dark
from your past.»
Julius noted others signaling agreement and said, to no one
in particular: «What a paradox. Ever since I`ve been in this field
I`ve heard an ongoing chorus of complaints from patients that
therapists were too distant and shared too little of their personal
lives. So here I am, on the brink of doing just that, and I`m greeted
by a united front saying, �We don`t want to hear. Don`t do this.` So
what`s going on?»
Silence.
«You want to see me as untarnished?» asked Julius.
No one responded. «We seem stuck, so I`ll be ornery today
and just continue and we`ll see what happens. My story goes back
ten years ago to the time of my wife`s death. I had married Miriam,
my high school sweetheart, while I was in medical school, and ten
years ago she was killed in a car crash in Mexico. I was devastated.
To tell the truth, I`m not sure I`ve ever recovered from the horror
of that event. But to my surprise, my grief took a bizarre turn: I
experienced a tremendous surge in sexual energy. At that time I
didn`t know that heightened sexuality is a common response to
confrontation with death. Since then I`ve seen many people in grief
become suffused with sexual energy. I`ve spoken with men who`ve
had catastrophic coronaries and tell me that they groped female
attendants while careening to the ER in an ambulance. In my grief,
I grew obsessed by sex, needed it—a lot of it—and when our
friends, both married and unmarried women, sought to comfort me,
I exploited the situation and took sexual advantage of some of
them, including a relative of Miriam`s.»
The group was still. Everyone was uneasy, avoided locking
gazes; some listened to the shrill chirping of a finch sitting in the
scarlet Japanese maple outside the window. From time to time over
many years of leading groups Julius had wished he had a
cotherapist. This was one of those times.
Finally, Tony forced some words out: «So, what happened to
those friendships?»
«They drifted away, gradually evaporated. I saw some of the
women over the years by chance, but none of us ever spoke of it.
There was a lot of awkwardness. And a lot of shame.»
«I`m sorry, Julius,” said Pam, «and sorry about your wife—I
never knew that—and of course about...about
those...relationships.»
