Shrinkage
The preponderance of fictional therapists and therapy-participants portrayed on TV has made me think. I usually try not to strain myself this way, and watching TV is usually a good way to avoid this. However, I could not help wondering what our fascination with psychiatry is. Are we all nuts? There are enough real-life shrinks on radio and TV these days, yet fictional versions are always popping up in movies and on the small screen. "Why?" I ask myself. Not out loud or anything. It's not like I go around talking to myself all the time. Not in public, anyway.
One possible explanation: Psychoanalysts are perceived as having some sort of dark power which enables them to get inside other people's heads. This is a scary thought, as most people don't like you traipsing around in their yards, much less in their minds. This is why when psychiatry is mentioned at social functions, normal people respond, : "I would never go to a psychiatrist." Some people say instead, "I'm not nuts." These people are either in therapy already (in which case they tell you all about their "breakthrough" and how they are no longer afraid of mustard), or they soon will be by order of the court.
However, psychiatry is not really the black art people make it out to be. If you lay down on my couch for an hour every day, and told me all of your deepest feelings and secrets, chances are I would have you arrested and dragged away. I would also have a pretty good idea what was going on in your head, and would be able to utilize that insight in our sessions to extract the maximum possible amount of money from you before you realize that you just need to pull yourself together and stop whining. Or I could save a lot of time and just use the info for blackmail.
I differ from the average psychiatrist in that I don't want to know. If you find yourself irresistibly attracted to squirrels, that is something I would rather not know. I am not the least bit interested in helping you get over it, especially since I kind of like the furry buggers myself.
But psychiatrists are keen on getting into stuff like that. They themselves must undergo psychoanalysis for a year as part of their training, although I think they should be required to continue until they are cured. None of them ever seem to resolve their feelings toward their mothers, which is why they always harp on this topic with their patients. They just assume everyone else has the same trouble.
Another important part of psychiatric training is the teaching of useless testing procedures. By this I am referring to such things as word-association and inkblots. A psychiatrist cannot actually tell anything from these tests, except in very extreme cases.
Shrink: Hot. Patient: Sex.
Shrink: Cold. Patient: Sex.
Shrink: Lilliput. Patient: Sex.
Shrink: Dog. Patient: Sex.
Shrink: Noodles. Patient: Sex.
Shrink: Light Patient: Bulb.
Shrink: "You seem to have an inordinate interest in light fixtures. Let's talk more about this."
It is a little-known fact that Rorschach, the guy after whom the inkblot test is named, was not actually a psychiatrist but rather an entomologist. Towards the end of his career, Rorschach began to loathe insects and went about squashing his entire indexed collection on their index cards. So the original "blots" had nothing to do with ink. Or psychiatry. Nevertheless, analysts will tell you, "There is no 'correct' answer. Just tell me what you see." But if you always respond, "A squashed bug," chances are you will be spending a great deal of time in a padded cell. The truth can be dangerous.
There is only one thing left for me to make clear: I'm not nuts. And I'm not in therapy, either.
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