The Monster
Linda and I go back for a therapy session with our two therapists David and Tom after a 3-month recess. Wow, do we need it. After two months of non-stop guests in our cottage on Maui, and all kinds of emotional dramas, Linda and I are both fried.
During the session , Linda goes through the weary litany of endless guests coming and going. Our two Australian shepherds (who always reflect our feelings), lie on the floor in front of us, more agitated than usual.
Tom asks us, “What was the fantasy you had in inviting them all come?”
I jump in. “My fantasy was being with friends I’ve known for years and all of us having fun together—one big happy family.”
“And did it work?”
“No, I somehow fell into being the martyr, thinking I had to feed them, take care of them, show them the sights, entertain them, cater to their needs. I totally imploded.”
David says, “Peter, it seems like there’s a little narcissism and grandiosity here. You’re the one who thinks he has to ‘take care of’ all these guests. Why do you feel that you have to feed them, coddle them, and respond to their every need?”
“I want them to be happy. I want to be everything to everybody. If I’m not the perfect host they won’t like me.”
“Why can’t you let them take care of themselves? They’re responsible adults.”
“Yes,” Linda cries out. “You ran me under the bus just to make them happy . . .”
Tom adds, “You also made them dependent on you, like they were little children.”
“He just couldn’t stop,” Linda says, shaking her head in amazement. “He tied himself in pretzels to make everyone happy—and he totally abandoned me.”
“I didn’t,” I cry out, shaking my head in wonder at my own stupidity. “I almost killed myself trying to keep you happy too!”
David says, “Peter, I don’t think you’re quite the ‘nice Peter’ you portray yourself to be. It seems to me like you’re the ‘master controller’ who wants to be totally in charge. It almost seems like you’re a Vince Vaughan.”
“Oh no,” I groan in mock horror. “That’s my worst nightmare!” Vince Vaughan, with his deep voice, high testosterone, and gross insensitivity, is my worst nightmare.
Suddenly it hits me. I have these two separate parts of myself that I don’t even recognize—the bossy guy in charge, and the sweet, thoughtful Peter who is always trying to please everyone. What a shock. Emotions start swirling around. I can’t even talk. I suddenly see that I’m not the sweet, kind, considerate, loving, gentle, “spiritual” person I imagined myself to be. I’m the person I loathe— bossy, judgmental, assertive, anti-intellectual, bigoted, and superior!
Where’s the “real” Peter?
Hi Peter,
i find it interesting that after all your chasing enlightenment that you get your shifts in therapy. I would love to here more about it.
I have been working with spiritual teacher Dave Oshana. What I find refreshing is that he does not exclude the psychological behind the cloud of spiritual ideals.
I would love to know how you see spirituality and therapy.
Wonderful regards,
Oz