I have told the story many times now of my first meeting with Dr. D. My former therapist referred me to him, and that fact probably sent me to his office with just a little more trust than I had brought to the other four doctors/counselors with whom I had done intake interviews during that year.
Our initial phone conversation gave me no clue as to what he was like, but I was reassured by his pleasant, professional manner.
The first thing I saw when I walked into his waiting room were prints of the Marx brothers on one wall and a humorous golf poster on another wall. The back of the restroom door, where I fled in my anxiety, was filled with jokes and inspirational clippings from perhaps a decade's worth of sources. How different from my former therapist, who practiced individual therapy as a sideline to his main business, conducting training seminars for companies, military and police agencies and whose office was scarcely more than a cubicle with a couple of chairs and a cheap computer desk thrown in. The man lived in this small suite, in a manner of speaking, and I liked that.
He was late for the appointment, which I was soon to learn was a quirk of his…..The closet door in his office was filled with postcards, clippings and pithy sayings, one of which was a takeoff on Murphy's Law: "D.'s Law: If the doctor is late, the patient is early; if the patient is late, the doctor is early."
Several small details of his office struck me at once-photos of his family, several mementos of his work with high school athletics programs, a lovely decanter, probably an antique-and a stuffed Cat in the Hat holding court from an armchair. "Oh, look!" called a little voice inside. "He likes kids!"
The session as I remember it was probably pretty standard stuff; at least it all sounded familiar, like the other intake interviews I had done in the past year. Name, age, marital status, family tree, presenting problem, etc. Presenting problem? Well…..I was plagued with asthma that scarcely responded to medication, but actually it was probably due to my being overweight, I thought-after all, wasn't every problem in my life due to being overweight? So I said something about wanting to conquer my eating and weight problems-although my thoughts screamed at me, "You liar! You liar! You liar!……"
He also asked the same question the other four interviewers had asked, "Were you physically or sexually abused as a child?" My answer was no, but he looked at me and said, "You said no, but you nodded your head yes."
Alarm sirens screamed in my head, lights flashed, and the room seemed to tilt. I don't know if I showed any of this turmoil outwardly, but inside I felt like I would explode in a thousand pieces any moment…..And I said, "No, I wasn't abused. It was a hard life, but I wouldn't say I was abused." His reply? "You nodded your head yes again. Which answer should I note?"
In retrospect, I know that Silent One realized in that moment that she had been seen, and she was both terrified and relieved.
I gathered my thoughts, shook my head firmly, and replied, "No, I was not abused." Johanna stared him in the eye, daring him to probe further. After a moment, he just nodded, said, "Okay," and continued the interview-of which I remember nothing else.
Hmmm…….. Funny, I can't hold his gaze like that any more. Actually, I don't need to stare him down any more, either, but I couldn't do it even if I wanted to. There's nothing there to fight any more. When I look him in the eye, I see acceptance, affection, and a reflection of the deep bond we have forged over the years. He's the first person who ever disarmed me. Many have tricked me or overpowered my resistance in order to get inside my head/heart, but he's the only one who has been consistently honest in his caring and refused to give me the fight I never realized I was looking for.
Mosaic Minds--For Everyone Who Lives With a Dissociative Disorder
