Many Paths: Reflecting on 25 years as a family therapist
Twenty-five years is a long time to listen to people’s stories. You pretty much hear it all. The stories fall into patterns after years of experience. You really don’t need to hear much of the story, but you want to allow the person to tell theirs.
An older gentleman came into my office. His story centered around alcohol. Whisky. His skin was fragile, translucent, like a piece of antique China. A beautiful, hand painted cup, with those fine cracks down the side. The kind they get with age. It looked like the slightest touch of his skin would draw blood. His brows were wild and bushy. It was the eyes I noticed. They were blank. Hollow. Blurry. Defeated. He shuffled into the office with a slight limp. His clothes hung on him like a scarecrow that had seen one too many thunderstorms.
I knew why he was seeing me. His drinking. I asked when he had started. “Seems I have always been drunk.” Any sobriety at all? “Maybe six months a couple of times, but she (whisky) always calls me back. I’m under her spell. She summons me into her arms, and I willingly go.”
He talked, I listened. Back from prison, homeless, living on skid row. Begging on the street. Married and divorced three times. Two estranged children. A bleeding ulcer. Pancreatitis. A near dead liver. Beaten more times than he could recall. Broken arm, broken leg, internal injuries.
But he came back from it all. Promises broken, nightmares of his own making. Each time saved he was thankful, but not enough to quit drinking.
Weeks before I was to retire, they came into my office. A husband, wife, daughter, maybe 14-15 years old. She was carrying a young baby. The daughter was the identified patient. Anorexic. It seemed odd that so much time had passed between siblings. Turns out the child was the daughters. The husband was the father.
On days like this you can feel doubt, whether in your work or your faith. These are days you must pay particular attention to. These days can fill you with doubt, sending you spinning down a road you don’t want to travel.
It can easily lead you towards drinking, drugs, depression. I have seen numerous therapists succumb to too many stories like these. They can’t balance what they hear with their faith. They couldn’t deal with both sides of the invisible.
Have you ever walked down a road where you can’t stand the pain? How do you reconcile your doubt with what you see and hear? How can I hang on to my belief in goodness and righteousness in the face of such stories?
How can I keep growing and trying to remain an understanding, compassionate, empathetic individual. Can I keep going or will the road burn holes in my shoes.
He was suicidal. One attempt, luckily, he was unsuccessful. Why did he want to leave? What was propelling him towards death rather than life?
Listening to him speak, I believed he just wanted to be noticed. Remembered. Nearly everyone had abandoned him for one reason or another. How do I persuade him that I won’t?
Bruce Weik, was a longtime columnist for The Zephyr, and is co-creator of Many Paths Galesburg since 2019.
This article originally appeared on Rockford Register Star: Many Paths: Reflecting on 25 years as a family therapist
