My friend Robin, author of Shrink Rap: An Irreverent Take on Child Psychiatry, recently wrote a post about patients calling their shrinks at odd hours of the day and night. Her stories reminded me of the time a client called me at 11:45 PM on a weekday to ask me how to spell a certain female body part.
"Polly!" my client shrieked with ear-splitting enthusiasm, not bothering to introduce herself. "How do you spell 'vagina?'"
"Um...yawn...who IS this?" I wondered if perhaps this was some kind of new and trendy more formal version of an obscene phone call that I hadn't heard about yet.
"It's Dolores."
"Oh, hi Dolores." She was a slightly simple yet refreshingly sincere, albeit very abused, client who was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder. "You want to know how to spell vagina?"
"Yeah."
Times are so much simpler now. Thanks to Oprah, today I could just respond, "V-J-J." Even Dolores would've been able to remember three letters, but at the time I suspected six was a little beyond her capability. So back then I had to spell it out for her.
"Do you have a pencil and paper?"
"No. Wait a minute, I'll go get them."
"V-a-g-i-n-a," I informed her through my sleepy haze. "By the way, Dolores, before we hang up, why are you calling me at 11:30 at night to ask me how to spell vagina?"
"You told me to."
Well, I guessed that was true, in a weird Dolores-kind-of-thinking way. Actually what had happened was that earlier that week, Dolores had been in for a session in which she read aloud to me some of her writing about her childhood abuse, which she had decided she would have published to help others. What she had read to me went something like this: "First he felt my tits. Then he made me suck his dick. Then he stuck his cock in my pussy and came in me." It went on and on, each description more pornographic than the former. Having been abused for several years as a child, she had produced pages of the stuff.
After listening to her exhaustive yet somehow incomplete recitation, I said to her, "It's good that you did so much work on this. Now the reader knows what happened. Good job. Now I'd like you to go back and change some of the words to their proper names. Words like "pussy" and "dick" are violent words your abuser used when he sexually abused you. How about we teach you the proper words, which are more respectful of your private body parts? Then later we're going to help you fill it in with your feelings. Your homework for your next visit is to rewrite this, using the correct, more respectful words for your body parts that were violated."
In that strange and curious place known as DoloresWorld, at 11:45 PM on a work night, I suppose I got just what I asked for.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
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6 comments:
At that hour, the most therapeutic intervention I could have mustered would have been, "Have ya tried spell check?"
That would've been perfect if
we'd had that back then. Unfort, the best I could've done at the time was recommend a dictionary or a library, neither of which she ever entered, I'm sure.
What an interesting form of literalist. Not sure what to say to this beyond good for her for following your advice. And I found this really funny.
Glad you got a giggle out of it, Leah. I thought it was funny too. I didn't get very far with her, but she was definitely one of my more memorable (and loveable) clients.
I love this story! Her diary was indeed riveting (Oy vey). Can you imagine publisher's faces after getting that in the mail?
You are so nice! I think the idea of replacing the abusive words with respectful words is really lovely.
Thanks for inspiring me with your own blog, Robin. I needed a push since I haven't blogged since Thanksgiving.
Yes, I could imagine publisher's faces getting her writing. That was the problem. Other than Penthouse letters I wouldn't have known who to suggest she send it to.
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