THE REAL LJ IDOL SEASON 9 -- WEEK 14: CONFESSION FROM THE CHAIR
NOBODY THERE
There are times in a person's life where they absolutely need to speak with their parents. I'm sure you all can understand what I mean -- imagine that your life has gone haywire, and you need feedback from the people who raised you to make sense of it all. Talking with anyone else simply will not help you.
But what do you do when your parents are dead?
This was the situation I faced in early 2004. My life had been in utter shambles ever since I witnessed the collapse of the World Trade Center on September 11, 2001 -- my office was just one half of a mile away from the WTC site, and I had an unobstructed view of the carnage that occurred that day. I had been so traumatized by what I had seen that I essentially was unable to function in any capacity. Worse yet, I directly associated my workplace with the attacks, and I dreaded going back there so much that I kept showing up for work over three hours late, each and every day... assuming I showed up at all. I was unable to find alternate employment during that period, partially because so many NYC businesses had closed or moved away after the attacks... and partially because my emotional state made me botch every job interview I went on.
Eventually, the management at my job called me onto the carpet over my time and attendance issues. I came damned close to getting fired, but after some negotiation an agreement was hammered out between my union and my employer -- I was offered a six-month disciplinary suspension without pay, after which I would be allowed to return to work. For various reasons I simply could not imagine going back to my old office, and I intended to find another job during my suspension period instead of returning to the place where I had been so traumatized. Still, I figured it would look better on my employment history to be suspended rather than fired, so I accepted the offered deal.
MARCH 2004: I was three months into my suspension period, and all my attempts to find gainful employment had been utterly fruitless. The job market in NYC continued to worsen as more businesses failed or left town... and on the few occasions when I found someone who was hiring, I was still such an obvious emotional wreck that I got shooed out of their offices in record time. So I couldn't find another job... but I couldn't imagine going back to my old workplace, either.
To put it bluntly, I thought my career was over... and I wasn't even 40 years old yet.
I was seeing a therapist on a weekly basis to deal with my PTSD, and he did the best he could for me... but in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't enough. I really needed to talk to someone else about my troubles... and one session I told my shrink point-blank: "I really need to speak to my mother."
My therapist nodded. "So do it."
I snorted. "How can I? You know she died several years ago!"
My shrink was unfazed. "Well, you know what she'd say to you? I mean, you know how she'd respond to what you want to tell her, yes?"
I frowned. "Yes, but knowing isn't enough. I *NEED* to actually experience that conversation... with *HER*!"
My shrink nodded again. "There's a therapeutic role-playing exercise you can try..." And he explained it to me just as the time ran out for that session.
As I walked out of my therapist's office, I mulled over what the shrink had told me. Initially, the described exercise seemed silly and pointless... but as I had no other obvious alternatives, I resolved to try it that very evening.
As soon as I arrived home, I set up two chairs so they were just a few feet apart, directly facing each other. That being done, I sat down in one of the chairs... and with every fiber of being, I imagined that my mother was sitting in the other chair. When I could almost see her staring back at me, I started speaking...
"Mom, I... screwed up." I blinked back the tears that were already forming in my eyes. "I screwed up big time. I did the best I could... but it wasn't enough." My voice cracked from the emotions I was feeling. "I just couldn't handle... seeing thousands of people die... in such a horrific way." I was weeping openly now... but I somehow managed to continue, speaking to the empty chair as if my mother were sitting in it. "I... just need to know... that you understand what I've been through... and that... despite the way I've behaved at my job... that you're proud of me!"
I spent the next several minutes just sobbing helplessly. I felt so relieved to have finally having said what I needed to say... but the exercise wasn't over. Eventually, I calmed myself enough to perform the second part of the exercise:
I stood up... and then I sat down in the other chair, the one I had imagined my mother sitting in. I could feel my mother's presence all about me... and I knew, *KNEW* exactly how she would have responded. Facing the now empty chair I had sat in while I had poured my heart out, I essentially became my mother... and when I finally opened my mouth, my mother's words came out of it:
"I'm sick of your whining! Once again, you've shown that you're utterly worthless! You're so selfish you don't even care that your actions have brought shame upon me and the rest of your family! Well, this is beyond the pale! You've proven that you're beyond redemption and beneath contempt, and I'm disgusted to know that you're a child of mine!"
I cannot begin to describe how it felt to hear my mother speaking to me again after so many years. I was reliving my childhood, and all the ways my mother had shaped me during that period...
I performed the exercise a few more times in the ensuing weeks. Eventually, however, my shrink ordered me to discontinue the practice, after I described I typical session to him. I still don't entirely understand why he had me stop...
NOTE: For those readers that need to know that this piece is fictional, ellakite assures them that they'll be far happier if they don't actually ask him about the matter...
This is an entry for THE REAL LIVEJOURNAL IDOL SEASON 9 WEEK 14. It is based on the prompt "Confession From The Chair."