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April 11, 1997 - Image 55

Resource type:
Text
Publication:
The Detroit Jewish News, 1997-04-11

Disclaimer: Computer generated plain text may have errors. Read more about this.

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He Said, She Said, They Said?

Therapy: a way to smooth '90s relationships.

SUSAN SHAPIRIISPEGJALTO THE JEWISH NEWS

0111

OP

knew I was in love with him
because I was chain smoking,

dreaming of another man
and bringing my furniture
over to his place one piece at a
time. He knew he was in love
with me because he wasn't
sleeping well, drinking six-packs
by himself on Monday nights
and feeling anxiety about my
moving in with him.
Having spent our primes in
self-destructive relationships,
we decided this time to talk
about it honestly. I suggested
we were neurotic, r 5.
co-dependent
substance
abusers who
should seek
therapy. He
said, "You
need to have
your head ex-
amined."
There were sev-
eral approaches to
therapy, and we
discussed them 4
all. Marriage
counseling was
out since he
wasn't ready to
incorporate the
M-word into his
everyday vocabu-
lary. Joint therapy
wasn't right because of my fear
that he wouldn't want me when
he found out what I was really
like.
I vetoed massage therapy,
and he nixed group therapy.
We finally decided to go sep-
arately. I chose to meet once a
week with Patty, a Jungian psy-
chologist who was young, female
and $35 a session.
He immediately became ad-
dicted to the idea of talking
about himself and wound up ly-
ing on the couch four times a
week with Dr. Levin, a 65-year-
old Freudian psychiatrist who
was male and $2 a minute.
The payment for therapy got
more entangled than our psy-
chodramas. When I was broke
and let him pay for it, it only in-
creased the guilt I was trying to
get rid of — especially when I
was analyzing my recurrent fan-
tasy of having an affair with a
stranger.
On the other hand, when he
was low on funds and my checks
Susan Shapiro, a Bloomfield Hills
native, is a New York City
freelance writer and the author
of The Male-to-Female
Dictionary.

were miraculously coming on
time, he refused a loan. This
misplaced machismo was one of
the reasons he needed to see a
doctor to begin with. But it was
hard to be open when it hooked
right into my money/power/sex-
with-a-stranger stuff.
Armed with an intensified
awareness of our awareness, we
spent manKevenings exploring
our feelings about furniture.
"I'm uncomfortable with all
this art-deco crap you're bring-
ing into my apartment," he said.

"Maybe this hostility is real-
ly rage about your parents' di-
vorce."
"Maybe it's junk," he said,
"and you're confusing this with
your old lover's mother prob-
lem."
It's bad enough to have one
person submerged in his uncon-
scious emotions before the age
of 4, but two people cannot func-
tion on this level. We were soon
lost in psychobabble, saying
things like, "I resent your ma-
nipulative tone of voice and
won't buy into anger caused by
your defenses."
We rehashed so much of our
past there was no mystery left for
the future. I hated my parents,
but I learned to hate his more.
He'd come home and noncha-
lantly ask, "So what did you talk
about in therapy today?"
When I admitted to revealing
some of our intimacy problems,
he wasn't happy. Soon there
were four of us in bed.
"Patty says it's good for me to
be aggressive when I feel like it,"
I whispered.
"Dr. Levin says I have a right

to not want to sometimes," he
replied.
When we both started mak-
ing progress, we got competitive
about it.
"I had a great session today,"
I said. "I finally broke through
my sadness, got in touch with
my passion and started crying."
"Last week I relived a trau-
matic childhood experience,"
he bragged. "I got down on all
fours and ripped a pillow to
shreds."
Then we began resurrecting
past pain and throwing it
into each other's
faces.
When I
asked him,
"How do I
look?" he
answered,
"I don't think
it's good for me
to give you reas-
surance every
time your feel-
ings of inade-
quacy surface."
When he cut
himself shav-
ing, I said,
"Aren't you
having lunch
with your father
today?"
We argued about the
symbolism in our dreams.
"Just because the woman was
naked and next to a fountain
does not mean I want to go to
bed with her."
"Well, what was she doing in
the middle of your psyche?"
I asked. "Getting a drink of
water."
"You're the one who asked
what I dreamt! I'm only doing
this because I love you and want
it to work out!" he yelled.
"You do?" I hollered back.
"She had dark hair," he mum-
bled. "Like you."
"Why didn't you say so?" I
screamed, realizing this was all
just his counterphobic reaction
to intimacy misconnecting with
my fear of becoming one of those
dreadful women-who-love-too-
many-foolish-men-afraid-to-love-
them-back.
I twisted the cap of a bottle of
Rolling Rock even though I hat-
ed beer and turned on the foot-
ball game. He took a cigarette
from my pack and lit it from the
wrong end.
"... So maybe your green lamp
would look better in the bed-
room," he said.

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JEWISH NEWS

Harmony House founder Carl Thom in front
of the Hazel Park store circa 1947

COME TO OUR HOUSE

AND CELEBRATE 50 YEARS

OF HARMONY. STILL

FAMILY OWNED AND

MICHIGAN BASED.

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55

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