Many people thing being a shrink is a mysterious, even glamorous, profession. It is, but only at cocktail parties. The day to day doing of it is hard work and often involves the elements of: Fear (I hope she doesn’t kill herself tonight): Frustration (Why won’t this idiot admit to the obvious): Boredom (Is he going to tell that story again!) Yes, there are joyful moments when the patients “get it” and there is much gratification as their lives improve. But therapy is more fun for the patients than for their therapists. Certainly it is more interesting to them.

One of the first things we learned as psychoanalytic candidates was that a person’s I.Q. (basic intelligence) and his or her emotional stability have nothing to do with each other. Early on in my practice I experienced this. Some of the most emotionally wrecked people I saw had MENSA status I.Q.’s. Some of the healthiest were barely able to squeak through high school. This confounding truth was an ongoing source of wonderment to me as it is for all psychoanalysts.

When my session on a Friday was over I got up and proceeded to the door of the consultation room. As I passed Jean’s chair he handed me a piece of paper. He’d never done this and I asked what it was. It had a woman’s name and phone number on it. “Call her and set up an appointment,” he said. “She’ll be your first patient.”

Early on psychoanalysis was dubbed “The Jewish Science” because nearly all of the first practitioners were Jews. Although Christianity was fathered by Judaism, there are some striking differences between these faiths. Jews don’t concern themselves with an afterlife; Christians are pre-occupied by the concept. Slap a Jew in the face and be prepared to be slapped back. Slap a Christian and he will turn the other cheek. (Not really, but we’re supposed to.) A Jew believes “getting even” is appropriate when he has been harmed by his fellow man. Christians believe in forgive and forget. (Not really, but we’re supposed to.)

I had become a dedicated analysand (patient) and continued to see Veryl after my wife and sons moved back to Florida. I became hooked on the process, intrigued by the simple truths it revealed, and hungered for more. I also began to harbor a secret fantasy of one day becoming a psychoanalyst, and I confided this to Veryl.

By Jim Joyce

We like to think we are in charge of our lives, and sometimes we are, but there are times when events occur beyond our control that take us places we didn’t know existed and from which there is no turning back. That’s how I became a psychoanalyst. It was unplanned (un-dreamed of) and sometimes I wish it had never happened. Psychoanalysis is a dangerous profession.