Are you suffering in silence, and alone?

Dear friend,

If you are alone today and in some kind of pain,
maybe you just want to be left in peace.

But suppose you are wishing that someone
would see that you are alone and suffering?

And would give enough of a damn
to reach out and connect with you?

If that is what you are wishing,
I am ready and willing to do it.

How?

I will talk to you.

Hey, as long as I’m talking and you are hearing me,
you aren’t entirely alone, right?

Even if you don’t talk back
there are still two of us here, not one
—which means your isolation has already ended.

No invitation

Did you see how I just barged right into your life
without an invitation?

Dang.
Ya gotta watch these therapists.
They’ve got a lotta nerve.

Yes, I am real good at barging in.
I have learned never to wait for an invitation.

In the battle between the analytic couch and the door,
between engagement and exit,

between therapy and flight,
I may get only a brief opportunity to connect.

So, my way of working
is to walk straight into the person’s heart and sit down.

I stride right past their inner guards
before they know what happened.

By the time they put up their defenses it’s too late.

So now that I’m sitting in here…

…hopefully in your heart…

What would you like me to talk about?

Well, how about I tell you about a woman
who was referred to me for psychotherapy.

The problem?

She was silent.
Hadn’t said a word in months.

She was in extreme emotional pain.

She had been diagnosed with terminal cancer
and refused to speak to anyone.

I was the psychology intern at the cancer hospital
where she was an inpatient.

When she was referred to me for psychotherapy
no one could offer me any background on her.

She was a middle aged woman.
Single.
Dying of breast cancer.

Could I get through to her, they asked me?

My approach

Well, I remembered reading a psychoanalytic paper
by Dr. Edmund Bergler on what to do if the patient is silent.

He explained that silence is usually due to anger.
The patient feels refused and abandoned by their Bad Mother,
their Bad Spouse, the Bad World, the Bad Doctor, the Bad God.

“You give me nothing. So I give you nothing in return.”

He said what you must do is simply talk.
Give words. Lots and lots of words. On any topic.

Do not ask questions nor seek any response or reply.

Just give.

Giving in this manner serves to counteract
their inner accusation that you give them nothing.

So I decided to do that.

I went to the woman’s room and introduced myself,
but asked her no questions.

It must have been quite a surprise
not to be interrogated
given that she had been told
that a psychologist was coming to see her.

I told her I was going to go down
to the sunroom at the end of the hall
to sit for a while.

I asked if she would like to come with me.

She hesitated.

I said: “I’m not going to ask you any questions.”

She looked at me with her dark expressionless eyes
then got up and slowly walked down the hall with me.

We sat there on a bench, a few feet apart.

I just started talking about my daily life.

I did this, did that, this week…
described in detail all the mundane everyday things,
nothing personal or dramatic.

She sat there listening.

After about an hour,
I said we better get back to the ward.
So we slowly went back.

I came to her room twice a week.
Each time I asked:
”Do you want to go to the sunroom?”

She went.
I talked.
We walked back.

After several weeks of this,
I was beginning to run out of topics.

One day I decided to talk about cooking
and tell her the times I had screwed something up.

I told her about the time I made brownies
but mistook the salt canister for the sugar canister.
”Thank God I always taste the batter before I bake it,” I said.

She sat there stone-faced.

Then I told her that in all my years of cooking
I had never learned to make good scrambled eggs.

I had tried every recipe under the sun, I said.
But I never had any success.
”Mine always turn out tough,” I lamented mournfully.

“You’re turning the heat too high!”

I was stunned
but made no reaction
in my shock and joy
to hear her voice.

I acted as if nothing had happened.

I kept my mouth entirely shut
and simply looked at her gently.

“You have to do scrambled eggs on LOW heat
or you’ll RUIN them!!!”

she continued.

I sat and took this in silently and contritely
as if I were a kid in grade school.

She continued to explain the fine points
and when she had finished her lesson,
I said quietly:

“I see.

I see what I was doing wrong.

I think I can make better eggs now.
Thank you.”

We walked back to the ward.

Her nurses later told me that she began speaking with them.

She was able to communicate with her family before she died.

Breaking the silence

So now I have been talking and talking
with you, dear reader

not only today
but for these past eight months
I have been writing a letter once a week to you.

I hope the story I shared with you today
reassures you

that none of us is ever alone
once we let another human being in.

Thank you for letting me in.

I hope you will always let me in.

And today I hope you will speak up
and tell me something I am doing wrong.

Something I am omitting
or some way I could improve this letter
or any other you have read.

Tell me how I can make these eggs turn out better.

I promise to take it as contritely as if I were a kid in grade school.

And I will thank you for building me into a better writer
and a better doctor.

Blessings,

Dr. Hall

Question:

I have no end of topics in mind, but is there one you wish I would write about?