Mr. Joyce Takes on the World

One Year After It’s been a year since my work with Julie ended. Yet, it feels much longer than that. Much has happened since then…more so than I can detail here. You’d have to read previous blog posts from the past year to catch up. Instead of a list of misfortunes, and minor victories, I’m going to reflect on where I’m at since therapy ended. I feel that in some ways I’m better. But, there’s still a lot of work to be done. I was under the misapprehension, when I began therapy, that it was a cure all. That one would be completely perfect after the therapist finished their work on the client. Truth be told, that’s not how therapy works. The client does all the work, while the therapist acts as a guide. The client must commit to the work outside of the office. The office itself is a place where ideas are spoken, but the actions of the therapy are committed in the world outside. I have always taken the lessons I’ve learned from therapy into the world around me. Julie would b

One Hell of Hero I was talking with a new co-worker about Dr. Who. I had mentioned to her that I visited England last year, and would return this year. She got a bit jealous, and then said, “Your parents must have left you a lot of money.” Honestly, it’s not that expensive. If you know the right websites, and book during the right time, it’s very affordable. I knew she was joking, but hearing it triggered something. I calmly said, “My mother didn’t leave me any money.” That’s not entirely true, as she had some pocket change, but that was about it. I didn’t keep that money for myself. Instead, I spent it to buy Yesterday some cat food. It still feels weird not to buy her food, though she’s been gone since February. My co-worker looked at me, and saw how serious I was. I then said, “My mother passed away last year.” “Really?” “Yes, she did. July 26 th .” “Oh, my God. I feel like a dick. It had to be on my birthday.” “It’s okay,” I said.

Disorder Vs. Reaction             As my time in abnormal psych class ends, I’m reflecting on the most important thing I’ve learned from that class.             The DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual) has a very long, contradictory history. The title itself sounds like a guide book for fixing your car. Instead, it’s a list of mental maladies, and their symptoms. It doesn’t list how to treat the disorders, or why the disorders occur. All it does is give a description of each form of mental illness. Depression, Bipolar Disorder, and Anxiety Disorder are all there. There’s even been a few disorders that were removed, and some that have recently been added. It’s a fluid document that is capable of being changed. These changes occur due to politics, culture, and the persistence of pharmaceutical companies. That doesn’t mean that psychology is quackery, or that all the illnesses in the DSM are illegitimate. What it means is that we must be careful how we label mental

Interlude One: Reflection in Blue When I was still working with Julie, she once asked me, “What was the last happy memory you have?” There have been several, but they are often tainted by some form of heartache, so I reached for one from my childhood. I said to her, “I remember being eight years old, and seeing the moon at dusk. I was standing on a neighbor’s lawn, and my parents walked across the street to come get me. My parents and I went to the mall that night. I bought a Ghostbuster’s action figure (it was Peter Venkman!) Then we went home.” Julie smiled a little, and even laughed. She wondered why I chose that memory. I explained to her that it was because of the mood associated with it. The sky was a perfect shade of azure (a color word I often overuse in my writing). The moon looked as if it were made of chalk. The idea that I could see the moon in day time fascinated me as a child. It still does fascinate me. I can’t get over that something that symboliz