The Naked Lady Who Stood on Her Head by Gary Small

Author:Gary Small
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2010-11-10T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER NINE

Eyes Wide Shut

Winter 1989

JASON RILEY WALKED INTO MY OFFICE at exactly 2:00 P.M. Wearing a button-down shirt, striped tie, and gray slacks, he looked more like an accountant than a twenty-two-year-old philosophy major about to graduate with honors from UCLA. He began the session as he always did—by emptying his pockets and lining up his date book, wallet, glasses, keys, and mints in a neat row on the table beside the sofa. He brushed off the bottom and back cushion before sitting down.

In his soft voice, he said, “Today I’d like to explore the true meaning of why I’m coming here.” Jason might have come off as stilted, obsessive, and controlling, but at least he knew what he wanted out of a session.

“As I recall, you were trying to decide on what to do when you graduate.” I sipped my coffee and waited for a response.

He adjusted his tie and thought for a moment. “But that’s only part of it.”

“Last week it sounded like your father was putting pressure on you to attend his alma mater, Loyola Law.”

“Yes, but I think what’s best for me is to get my Ph.D. in philosophy at Berkeley,” he said.

“If that’s what you think is best, Jason, why even consider going to law school?”

“That’s a completely different subject, Dr. Small. Today I’m looking to understand a very profound issue.” He straightened his row of items on the side table. “I don’t know if you are familiar with Wittgenstein’s writings.”

“I read some of his works when I was in college.”

“Then you may recall his argument that many of our problems stem from the misuse of language. If we’re going to come up with a logical analysis to solve my dilemma, we first need to answer the most basic question: Do I really have the free will to make this decision at all?”

For some reason, Jason’s mini-lecture made me think about lunch. I usually enjoyed philosophical discussions, but Jason’s need to control everyone and everything around him made his therapy sessions feel more like a power struggle than an exploration of his inner life. It reminded me of sitting through a long, boring speech, feeling desperate to escape. During Jason’s first month of treatment, I had suggested an antidepressant to help with his obsessive-compulsive tendencies, but he didn’t want to be controlled by a medication.

“All of us have free will, Jason. We make choices every day.”

“You haven’t met my father.”

Now we were getting somewhere. “Tell me about him.”

“Growing up in my house, there wasn’t any free will, only my father’s will. And he would let us know it all the time. Be friends with this person, take that class, don’t eat so fast, go to UCLA—the greatest public education you can get.”

“Sounds like a controlling guy, your dad,” I said. “He must have really pissed you off.” I thought by using the word pissed instead of angry, I might loosen Jason up a bit and help him acknowledge his feelings.

“Dad was firm, and I imagine I had a modicum of antipathy toward him.

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