We'll call him "Mr. Jones" for simplicity. When I went into Mr. Jones' room to introduce myself, he immediately said, "Well, you've put on weight, haven't you?" Not hello, not "how are you," - just an immediate comment on my body. I ignored it and introduced myself and told him I was here to talk with him. He, however, could not get past my appearance. I went to sit down, and he said, "You can't sit on the furniture. You'll break it." I let him know, gently and politely, that I had been sitting on the furniture for over two years without a problem, and that I had a job to do. He said, "you're too fat." At that point, even my patience was shot. I said, "Mr. Jones, I am here as a professional and your comments are out of line. My body is not under discussion. I'll come back again on Friday, and maybe we can try this again."
For the past two years, I've been working in nursing homes, offering counseling to seniors dealing with adjustment issues, depression, anxiety and a host of other mental health concerns. During that time, I've learned that there are people who are polite, and people who are just flat-out mean. I recently had the pleasure of trying to interview a gentleman who could not get over the idea that I was fat, and was very obnoxious about it. Factually, he is right - I am fat. I'm not upset about that - it's the judgment and cruelty in deciding that I am less of a human being because of it that was hurtful.
We'll call him "Mr. Jones" for simplicity. When I went into Mr. Jones' room to introduce myself, he immediately said, "Well, you've put on weight, haven't you?" Not hello, not "how are you," - just an immediate comment on my body. I ignored it and introduced myself and told him I was here to talk with him. He, however, could not get past my appearance. I went to sit down, and he said, "You can't sit on the furniture. You'll break it." I let him know, gently and politely, that I had been sitting on the furniture for over two years without a problem, and that I had a job to do. He said, "you're too fat." At that point, even my patience was shot. I said, "Mr. Jones, I am here as a professional and your comments are out of line. My body is not under discussion. I'll come back again on Friday, and maybe we can try this again."
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I thought for a while about whether or not I wanted to write about this, because there are so many armchair psychologists who are ready to explain and point fingers in regard to Robin Williams' suicide. Today, however, after hearing some of my clients' reactions and after hearing some of the things said in the media about it, I feel that I have something to say that might be helpful.
Mr. Williams' struggles with depression and addiction are well-known, and it's very easy to point fingers and say, "that was what did it." I've heard variations on that theme all day, most of them said with the attitude that nothing could help it. One radio host even went as far as to say, "He was beyond help. He was too far gone." I nearly had to pull my car off the road after hearing that, because I was so angry. I work all day with people who struggle with those feelings and with the pain and hopelessness that goes along with them. To hear a DJ blithely blame the victim was nearly too much for me. NO ONE IS "BEYOND HELP;" AND NO ONE IS "TOO FAR GONE." I can't emphasize that enough. In my work, one of the hardest things I face is letting a client know that it’s time move on. There are many reasons for ending therapy, and I’m going to explain some of them so you can see how complex the decision can be. I’ll start with a couple of reasons why clients end therapy.
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