Shrink Rap

Last week I reconnected with two men who helped mold my mind.

Henry and Fred are two therapists I’ve worked with for many years. Both men helped me get through some of the worst times in my life.

I met Henry in the mid-Eighties when I was falling apart physically, emotionally and professionally.

I’d never worked with a shrink before, and it took everything I had to keep from running out of the waiting room on my first visit.

Fortunately, I didn’t give into my fears.

Henry used to catch me whenever I talked down about myself and ask me a very simple question: “Whose work are you doing?”

He explained that there were people in my past who used to make me feel like crap and I’m now pinch-hitting for them.

It took me a long time to understand when Henry was trying to tell me, but I’m finally starting to get it.

I worked with Henry off and on and for many years, in person at first and when by phone when I lived in Pennsylvania and Connecticut.

I learned very quickly that a lot more people in this world should be in therapy.

Whenever I hear people complain about their psycho boss who terrorizes their employees, I think “now there’s a person who could use a shrink.”

Henry used to get exasperated with my resistance to helping myself, moaning “I’ll never be able to retire.”

Well, Henry, who is now in his 90s, eventually retired, and I had promised myself for years—honestly years—that I would call him, but I kept putting it off.

I wonder what a shrink would make of that.

Checking In

Anyway, I finally kept my word and called him. We didn’t speak for very long, but it was great hearing his voice.

I mentioned at one point that I would be turning 65 this month.

“You’re 65?” he said in amazement.

“I’m afraid so.”

Before signing off, I made sure to thank Henry for all his help.

Once I was done with Henry, I immediately called Fred to wish him a happy birthday.

I met Fred several years ago when I hit another low point. I had parted ways with Henry and had gone without a shrink for a few years.

Dark feelings started to chip away at me once again, and I recall riding the express bus into work on morning and I felt like I was disappearing.

I knew I couldn’t get through it on my own. I looked around, found a guy who was a 10-minute walk from my house and that’s how I met Fred.

Fred could not be more different than Henry, but I liked his style. He was a first-class ball-buster who constantly challenged me.

He got me into meditation and journaling, both of which I continue practice. We stayed together for several years before we parted ways.

I’m currently on my own, but I’ve been giving a lot of thought about getting back into the game.

I’m more amendable to therapy than I was in my younger days, and I think I would get more out of it.

Of course, I’ve been talking about getting back to therapy and I haven’t done it yet.

I wonder what Henry and Fred would say about that.