The Power of Psychotherapy

Psychology of the general public here, translated…

Anybody Can Feel Lost at Times

Before my days of serving my army terms on the external islands ended, before those days of no need for worries and just, watching the stars are over, I’d started calculating, what, I will be making a living off of afterwards.  Back then, I’d had two options, one, put myself up, as a manager of the foreign baseball players for the Uni-President Lions (I know I loved watching the game, as for my English skills, well, at least I CAN speak.  And I can also say, that I have the background in psychology too); another was becoming the editor of Money Magazine (before I’d enlisted, I’d followed the markets, and during it, I’d subscribed to the financial magazines by the month, I’d collected ALL the volumes).

For the former, I’d wanted to show off my English skills, I’d not written anything to show the headhunters, just how fluent I am, in the language, and for the latter, they’d called me back and wanted me to go in for an interview.  But, the magazine told me that there wasn’t an opening for editor, but there was an opening, in the sales department.  And, two days after I’d asked them, “What, do I do in the sale department?”, fate sent me a curve ball, turns out, the government had an experiment for two years, and so, I’d become, the very first set of “clinical psychologist”.

Two years flew by, with the experiences of the cases, I’d started having the doubts: do psychotherapy really work?  Unsure of my contributions to the parents and the students (I need to review my results from back then now), I’d actually felt, that I couldn’t do anything to help those who came to me at all, I’d needed to “climb the squares” in the midnight hours, to express my own emotional strains (and, I’d managed, to keep accords of these thoughts and feelings to the point I can get published already!)

Just as the experiments are about to end, a colleague begged me, to drive her over to the General Military Hospital, her nephew went into the service, and, got sent, to the psych ward, and was made, to stay there for an entire month, causing the whole family to worry.

Actually, it’s been a couple of years since my time in the psych ward (not for the hospitalization, but for my internship), it’d been a couple of years since, but, because someone entrusted in me so, I could only, tell her okay.

I’d recalled, how I’d observed how my coworker interacted with her nephew a bit, then, I’d started a conversation with that kid of not yet twenty that neither one of us understood what each other was talking about, then, on the way back, I’d told my coworker a bunch of things that wouldn’t help in the kid’s recovery, the point is merely, for my coworker, to be mentally prepared, that her nephew will become hospitalized.  Without knowing, before I dropped her off, she’d shoved a thousand dollar bill into my hand, told me to keep it (twenty years ago, that was HUGE!).  I was shocked, because I didn’t help them in any way, I’d quickly returned the money to her.  My conscience wouldn’t let me rest if I’d taken her money!  After we’d shoved the money back and forth, my coworker told me, “I just wanted you to know, that you CAN make a living off of doing this!”

Turns out, her family was split on how to deal with her nephew’s illness, one party is for him, taking rest at home, the other believed that hospitalization would suit him best, and because of my analysis, it’d given her the proof she needed, to convince her family members.  But what she failed to realize, was those words before she got off my car, gave the me back then, a boost of encouragement.

Listening, Allowing the People to Feel No So Alone

I did, accept the money from my coworker, but my work is almost done, and I don’t know where I’m to go, so, I’d returned back to my alma mater, to chat with my professor.  Don’t know if it was because my age reached a nine, or whether or not I was unsure of whether I should follow everybody else, go abroad to study, I’d felt so low, and, all the way to see my professor, I’d felt, that the world had turned completely dark.

I’d recalled my professor hearing me out, “I’m close to thirty, and still had yet to amount to something”, he’s flashed a smile at me, said, “I’m past age fifty, and feel that there are a lot of things I can accomplish, and you’re just almost thirty…”, he’d asked me if I’d considered being his teach assistant before I head abroad, and told me that I would have the chances, to being in contact with the elites of the society.

But, these ten minutes of conversation, I’d felt like I still had hopes (what the professor failed to predict was the earthquake that came a month later caused the job description to shift greatly for the next three years).  And there was something unforgettable, as I’d walked out of the department, I’d felt, that the trees had, turned green, the flowers, bloomed beautifully, and the colors, had all returned!

 And that, was the very first time, I’d realized, that talking, is healing.

A lot of the times, I’d have the families of the patients inquire, how do we accompany unstable, depressed, even demented patients?  Actually, there IS no right answer.  Other than making sure, that you are well, then, you can keep on accompanying the person!

And so, this, is a man’s journey, to find his own calling, and he used a ton of psychotherapy techniques, to help his friends, as well as those who’d come to consult him out, which just goes to show, that psychology lends itself to everything still!

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Cost of Living, Issues of the Society, Life, My Thoughts on Various Issues, Observations, Socialization, Story-Telling, The Observer Effect

Say What You Want to...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s