A nagging question

If you have made mistakes, even serious ones, there is always another chance for you. What we call failure is not the falling down but the staying down

Mary Pickford

I met today with my local review board of the American Psychological Association. While in front of them I faced a very serious decision. I could tell them that I felt I was in physical danger from Tommy’s father and acted in self-defense, or I could tell them what really happened. In thinking about this decision I wanted to factor in what the best decision would be for Tommy in this case, and I decided to tell a lie. I realized the seriousness of this decision, and what I would have to live with as a result of it.

With the receptionist corroborating my story, the review board agreed to let me retain my license and practice if I agreed to enter into counseling of my own to discuss any possible issues I may have with excessive anger. I agreed to this stipulation and stepped out into the afternoon sun, basically free to return to my livelihood, which had taken on newfound significance given the seriousness of what had happened with Tommy over the last week.

And the fact is I do have some serious issues to address. This is obvious. The credo “first do no harm” is as relevant to psychology as it is to medicine, and I had nearly killed a man. Whatever this man was, I’m quite sure I could have easily beaten him to death if other people weren’t around.

In the back of my head a sinister and daunting question has been forming that I have been afraid to let crystallize. This question thumps in my mind like a tell-tale heart beating louder and louder until finally I have to stand and face it. The question is “whose father was I beating up, in that moment, Tommy’s or my own?” The question sickens me but I know I have to answer it. There may not be an answer to this question. Perhaps my past and present selves are so intertwined that I’ll never completely untangle them. I know this is likely true. But if I am violent I have to face that. I have responsibilities and people counting on me.

Later that day I make an appointment to see a prominent yet eccentric therapist, who has the reputation as being extremely tough, yet also very kind. Therapy is going to be quite difficult this time around, and I am looking forward to it while also being a little apprehensive. A part of me thinks this might be the last shot to get it right, but I don’t want to get down on myself.