Neon Lights and Waiting Papers
Uncle Roy was put in hospice today. I guess it was nice for awhile to believe the doctors had miraculously taken all the cancer out of him. They did try their best; I didn’t know anyone could live without that many organs. Maybe they can’t.
Carl Whitaker says he believes people choose to die. That people can give themselves cancer. He’s kind of crazy and absurd but he’s my favorite therapist. He is a forerunner in Experiential therapy. He talks about symbolic experience and how what should be huge life experiences are not necessarily symbolic to people. The smallest experiences can be the most meaningful. I love this kind of therapy. He endorses being crazy and tricky as a therapist in order to be effective. The therapist is a foster parent whose main role is finding the right symbol. It’s time and energy consuming but effective.
Today I’m a bit tired and broke. I do not want to tell another client the same thing I;ve told the twenty before. I hate sitting in class this long. Blech. Broke as in poor, but a little down too. I like german and czech names. i like how that W is a V. I’m tired. My dreams have shifted from bloody running in terror things to weird testing my morals and boundaries dreams.
Whitaker says old symbols can still be pulled to the present for therapy, self therapy I guess. Today my favorite symbol, one of my favorite memories, is watching an old building get torn down. It was the most understood I’ve ever felt. I’d had an awful day, an awful semester really and after bombing my greek final for a second time, my best friend took me to watch this building get torn down. It was perfect.
