Sympathetic
He’s been utterly, dreadfully alone.
It is not a professional way to think, but even therapists are doomed to feel sympathy for their fellow human.
And if the patient is not going to feel rage on their own behalf, someone else can be a placeholder until they work their way up to that.
Caden is not prone to rage. He does not anger easily. For that matter, he doesn’t feel many emotions easily. Many of them come across dulled, like there’s some sheer lace between his skin and his nerves.
He’s spent much of his life with a coping mechanism, likely starting around the time of his parents’ passing to an awful disease. Despite the fact that many families were impacted by the disease, Caden still feels isolated, perhaps because it was only his parents and him, no extended family. He has felt like a guest at someone else’s house for as long as he can remember.
This is a potential explanation for his muted emotions; It is hard to feel safe expressing anger or sadness when you can be kicked out for doing so.
The coping mechanism is similar to what every child adopts at some point, an imaginary friend. Caden refers to a tall man dressed in black with a low voice. His ‘castle’, according to Caden, is outside of our village, but within walking distance for a day-trip.
The stranger speaks very softly. Caden has presented symptoms of sensitivity to noise. The stranger’s house is described as spacious and lived-in yet clean, with a large library. Caden feels easily overwhelmed and trapped. The stranger’s house is an ideal safe place for his mind to go when he needs comfort.
It is fine for him to hold onto this imaginary friend, for now. We will work on how to create a safe space in other ways, so he doesn’t feel like he has to escape all the time.
Press Release
20 March 2050
Management and staff here at Springfield Rehab Centre, are delighted to mark the first anniversary of the inauguration of our new centre with an Open Day on 1 June.
The purpose of our nationwide chain of Rehabilitation Centres is, of course, to combat the epidemic of Narcissism that is sweeping the country.
You will be aware that the ever increasing number of narcissists in our midst are not only a danger to themselves, but also, due to O.S.T. D.P. effect (obsessive selfie taking in dangerous places), are a major contributing factor in many accidents, as well as, sadly, a few innocent deaths. (Those who associate closely with narcissists seem to be particularly prone to the phenomenon of sudden death syndrome - due to terminal boredom).
Our work here is carefully tailored to cause minimum distress and discomfort during the rehab process. The first stage in the process is Smart Phone Deprivation. Sadly some measure of force is usually required to separate the client from his / her device.
Once the process has been completed, i.e., physical separation between hand and device, the client usually experiences some form of acute withdrawal, if not actual catatonic shock. Fortunately we have available a range of suitable sedatives to ameliorate the worst of these effects.
In a 'worst case' scenario, where the client is deemed to be at risk of self harming, or harming others, we also have an extensive selection of bodily restraint apparel. These come in a range of rather fetching pastel hues. We are happy to confirm that, to date, our suite of padded cells remains unused.
A Typical Case Study.
Client X - prefers to be referred to as - OWO! (OH! Wondrous One). This individual's gender is, apparently, variable. He has chiefly male characteristics but asserts vigorously that he/she 'can change from day to day'.
Family background : Single child. Apparently worshipped by both parents. OWO! has been encouraged to believe from birth that he/she is the epicentre of the known world and is a wondrous being (hence choice of unique name). Whilst OWO! appears to be quite a pleasant, if dull individual, it is difficult to escape the conclusion that his / her claims to uniqueness are simply based upon an overwhelming desire to 'be famous'. Having no discernible talent of any kind, clients such as OWO! often adopt an unorthodox name and claim for themselves a unique position on the 'gender spectrum'. (Anything to stand out from the common herd.)
Typical Therapy Session.
A typical session will see the client interacting with a therapist on a one to one basis. During the initial stages of rehab clients are encouraged to talk about their own lives. This may seem counter productive at first glance, however the aim is to encourage the client to engage in actual human interaction. (Our clients' normal interaction – not to say addiction – is usually with some type of electronic device). These preliminary sessions will lead the client on to much more difficult work where he / she will be introduced to the awkward concept of 'the lives and concerns of other people'. Such themes are, of course, extremely distressing for the narcissist. In terms of 'degree of difficulty' talking about the lives and concerns of others is, for the narcissist, up there with actual Smartphone deprivation.
Other features of our rehab therapy include Book De-sensitization. In this phase of the process we encourage our clients to actually hold a book in their hands. (You will, of course, be very aware that
most narcissists are acutely allergic to all books whatever the content may be). In the later stages of the de-sensitization process the client will be further encouraged to open the volume and to look at some words. Later, if and when the therapist adjudges it safe so to do – the client may be gently requested to read a few of those words.
The final phase of rehab will see our client being introduced to a thorough revision of all the third person pronouns – he, she, they, them, his, her etc. It's important to remember that narcissists will have retained only a very sketchy grasp of such words. However by the time they're ready to leave our facility, they will be once more fully conversant, and at ease, in their usage.
So the next time a casual acquaintance greets you with an overly effusive, “Well Hi there! How are you?, please exercise a little forbearance. It may well be that your casual acquaintance is also one of our ex clients, simply practising his 'other people matter too' skills.
Bystander
Tap...I can see it in the way they walk into my room...tap... I can feel it in the air as a sharp inhale followed by a shaky exhale, disrupts the space between us…tap… I can hear it in their trembling voice when they speak from the empty bowls of desperation. They are hopeless and in anguish for their lack of mental nourishment. It is not the fault of a child if the adult has failed in their pursuit to teach but it is the fault of the child if they choose not to receive. In front of me sits both the child and parent in a single soul, each longing to connect with the other and yet stubborn in their understanding.
I cannot help them for they are co-dependent on their suffering, and they continue to push onward as a machine would. Using the tiny bits and pieces they had cultivated in the community they built before it came crashing down as fuel. They are finite, and they know that because it has been proven to them time and time again in the form of chaos, anarchy, and destruction. And when thats all they know what can you expect me to do? I will not fall victim to their will, but I will not stand in their way.
no contact
He just left, he never cared about me
She thinks she's the reason he left
She doesn't think there could be another reason?
He didn't love me like he did her
She thinks she wasn't good enough
She thinks he found someone better
I can't live without him in my life
She credits him with her life
She feels insignificant without him
I love him, I'll never love again
She made him the center of her entire universe
She thinks she can't continue life and find someone else
Session over
I know what I need
She is highly dependent on others emotionally, but doesn't like being a burden
She wants things she can't have
She just has to keep no contact
I have a feeling that won't work out
Required
Due to the unbalanced nature of Daniel Moors' testimony, when the drugs had been almost absent, it was readily apparent that psychological dependence had set in. And at the moment he had desperately needed his vice.
However the young man had luckily had enough lucidity to not antagonize the officers or much move when called for a disturbance in the estate.
Due to his incoherence, his erratic behavior prior, due to the fact that the younger brother was petrified with eyes blown wide and drenched but otherwise uninjured on the patio a social worker was called in.
The parents had lost control. Realized so months ago when their son had punched a wall in an exhausted, irritable state one night.
And as it stood had no means or authority as parents to have corralled destructive behavior and violent language.
Olli had become something of a doll, otherwise unaccounted for in matters of the house, in the instances Daniel sober or not deigned to notice him. Sometimes he was in a hugging and crying mood. Other times he was in a venting mood.
He screamed at ten year old Olli on such occasions.
It was scary.
Even though his screams had demanded him to stay there, in one place, far from him while he was so angry.
His eyes had learned to track the movements of those bigger. Take mental note of how they paced, how long their strides, how measured or how agitated.
And from the very start he'd not trusted Dr. Eddal. Hadn't wanted her there.
From the start a requirement to shelve the entire ordeal as resolved was for the parents to submit Olli to a counselor for care.
Specializing in abused children.
She'd been used to horrible. And in some occasions yes, the children did turn into statistics into her mind.
She could only hope every day, try a little harder every day that those ill-suited tracks of thought never showed.
Dr. Eddal first consulted with Olli late at night, not long after Daniel had been detained and formally registered into rehab. Rather than her regular office it had been in a hospital.
The parents or Uncles, the adult family members were often the most common culprits. But there were always the times-- where, "the brother in his stupors would talk in coarse language, extort the child, blackmail and demand from the child to keep his silence."
"We do not believe physical force was applied."
"Marks designated to be 'with intent' are few and far between. Most if not all are now old and partially healed."
She answered his questions.
She asked her own, of how he felt of what he liked and who he liked. What did he do at certain times of the day and when he ate. How was school? There had been a note that he tried out for his basketball team and had been a rat in the Nutcracker show that winter.
Eddal did her utmost to reassure he was a person. A valued person who'd been undeservedly mistreated. In a way no one deserved to be treated.
And with time, in their eighteen months together she hesitated, but ultimately decided that it wouldn't be unprofessional if he considered her a friend.
If it meant his fear of adults all but faded.
Once he'd graced her with his voice, well, she certainly laughed a great deal. She clapped when he showed her the steps for the rat's solo in the Nutcracker. She listened as rules were enforced and the candy and cookie jars were placed out of his reach.
It was a transitionary period: from indulgent negligence to authoritative.
She reminded him it was out of love. She reminded that it was his decision and his alone to see Daniel, to contact his older brother-- his older brother with an illness who had hurt him, who had known so to some level-- when it was safe. Safe for Olli physically and safe for Olli mentally.
She only saw him twice-more after the eighteen months were up.
Three years later and she'd have to correct that.
Setting her purse on the seat beside her a coffee mug had been slid into her hands.
"Thank you ma'am," Daniel said quietly.
Olli had allowed his brother to borrow his phone to call for a consult.
The boys' parents were at the moment, at Olli's school for a conference about recent behavioral issues. Before they were to realize the younger son had set them up to leave.
"Everyone else thinks I was hallucinating what I saw on that road. I'd be a little less pissed if they at least gave me a chance to speak."
"I'd read about that in the papers. You claim to have seen--"
"A ghost maybe, best way I could think to describe it when my head had been cut clean through with my windshield mind you."
Daniel Moors was terse but otherwise composed. He kept his temper and sighed out his frustrations.
"So," he continued with an obstinate shrug, "I hired three high-school freshmen. Okay, two freshmen and my brother."
Shackles
The mascara shamelessly got in the way of her tears, gliding gracefully down her cheeks, seeking an entrance past her lips.
My gaze remain fixed to the bruises on her body, which she had carefully concealed– a testament to the pain she had suffered in the name of love.
“I love him", she whispered, her eyes sunken and her voice trembling.
Yet again, her body betrayed her. The weight of her fear reeling me in, a silent plea for help!
Her shoulders tighten, and her fists clenches,as if bracing herself for her next fight.
“I feel trapped, as though bound by chains, and I can't seem to break free. His presence hovers around me– his angry face, his cold gaze, and his disgust at the sight of me, a nightmare.
I close my eyes, and I see myself locked up, while he keeps screaming at me. Fear consumes me, as much as his abuse has consumed every inch of my soul".
I hear the shattering of my heart, for the millionth time today.
Her wounds may never truly heal, yet, I knew she was a warrior.
I dissuade the little voice in my head that screams:
Oh dear, if the shoes fit, you'd be a ravaging soul, desperately waiting for death to set you free.
[R E D U C T E D]
The first time I saw the young man, known as [R E D U C T E D], subsequently known as ‘the patient’, was when he was brought to me in handcuffs. He had an air of gloom I have yet to see in any of my patients. The photo that was shown to me and the man in front of me were like 2 different people. His lush brown hair had turned white and his attractive face had become skeletal.
The first week was spent without much progress. Most of the hour went on in an absolute silence and observation as he seemed to search the room. As if looking for something hidden. Occasionally he would listen to non-existing sounds and tremble. As it was my job to determine if the patient suffered from a mental illness or if he was sane enough for imprisonment, I decided to give him the time he needed to open up.
On the second week, he seemed to get more comfortable and started to open his thoughts to me. He spoke of the night in the woods and the horrors that had made the headline news that next morning.
His opening statement was, and I quote: “There are things in this world, doctor. Horrors beyond our wildest nightmares. And I have seen one of it.”
I pondered if those ‘horrors’ were manifestations brought on by stress or perhaps a genetic predisposition towards schizophrenic disorders? I don’t remember his parents mentioning anything about ancestors with similar disorders. But who knows. Maybe it happened further than the family remembers.
The patient continued by stating how it all begun during an intoxicated round of truth or dare. One of the victims, known as [R E D U C T E D], subsequently known as ‘victim one’, took out a piece of paper and dared him to read from it. He continues by recalling that he found the page strangely old looking and hideous. There was a text written on it in red ink. The patient questioned the victim what book this was from. But victim one simply told him it’s from some old box he found in his late grandfathers attic. It sounded creepy, so he brought it on the drinking excursion.
So the patient read from it a sentence, one he can not remember, as it was in some foreign language. But as soon as he finished the words, a lightning struck near them on the ground. He swears that he is not lying when he describes it as green and almost soundless. His blood analysis seems to confirm that the boys were not on any kind of mind-altering substance, safe for beer. A greenish black smoke rose from the place of impact and started taking on a human silhouette. From it formed a creature of grotesque shape. The patient seemed to sweat profoundly upon remembering. He describes it as, and I quote: “Barely looking humanoid, with a strange demonic twisting on it’s skin.” If one is to imagine his hallucination, the face only contained a mouth with rows of dull teeth, outstretched in a spiral towards the height of trees. Its hands were intertwined appendages of what he only described as, and I quote: “tentacles from an octopus.” Hysteria soon erupted between them. Screaming and yelling. Only victim one, that brought the page, seemed to bow to the ground for the creature. The creature grinned from one earless side to the other. That is the last thing the patient is able to recall before waking up in that same spot, with a knife in his hands and surrounded by the dismembered bodies of his friends. In a more grotesque manner than any horror film he had ever seen.
After this couple of weeks, it is my professional opinion; after spending all this time with the patient, to declare that the man known as [R E D U C T E D] to be psychologically insane and should be put under immediate supervision.
From some deep part of my mind, I have also decided to include a piece of unrelated information. In spite of the new heating installed in the office, I could feel a cold in the room as the patient told his story.
he quit taking notes years ago
my story repeated many times
same beginning same ending
he knows how I feel about it
angry bitter regretful enraged
we've gone over it over it over
somethings can't be undone
somethings can't be unstuck
maybe it's all a bit life lesson
perhaps you needed this fall
will make you a better person
having loved lost lived through
makes you strong resilient stuff
unmovable untouchable muted
tell me again tell me again again