The Unexamined Life
I want to tell you a bit about myself and share a story that illustrates the value of therapy.
Years ago, I figured out that I had a certain effect on people. I'd find myself on a bus or an airplane, and the general public just seemed to open up to me again and again. I'd be sitting next to someone, and next thing I knew, they'd be talking about their personal life and their struggles. I suppose they found my personality safe and present.
After a while, I realized I had something... this personality trait, so I developed it into a career. I received my master’s degree and went on to become licensed as a marriage and family therapist.
During the course of twenty years working in mental health, I have served hundreds and even thousands of people from all walks of life. I have heard countless stories that reflect all aspects of humanity. This is a story about one particular encounter.
About ten years ago, I met a man in his sixties, and on day one as a client, he hit me with quite an existential challenge. Let’s call the man John. John came into my office. He presented as a corporate executive type, wearing a fancy suit and tie but his clothes were wrinkled as though he had slept in them. Honestly, I forget what industry John worked in but I quickly perceived that he was well accustomed to great wealth. He sat down in my office and shortly after I closed the door John laid the weight of his world upon me. With an expression on his face much like having seen a ghost, he looked down at the floor and in low tones stated, “I was recently diagnosed with a terminal illness and the prognosis was at best one year to live.” However, that did not reflect the entirety of the weight he had on his shoulders. John looked up at me and changed his tone to be more commanding, “I'm going to die soon, and I want you to fix my family.” He said, “I have adult children: a daughter and two sons, and they all hate each other.” John continued, “I'm afraid that when I die, they're just going to fight over the inheritance and wealth that I have worked so hard for.”
At that point in my career, I had a fair amount of experience. I was rarely shaken by what clients revealed to me. However, this one definitely shook my foundation. I sat silent and reflected on his words. My internal dialogue was like, “holy shit!” This was such a powerful and honest disclosure. There was no “text-book” answer to such a personal testimony. There was no clever or cliché response for such a moment. This guy was not a “touchy feely” kind of guy either. He did not present as needing emotional validation. John genuinely wanted me to fix his feuding adult children and ultimately repair his legacy “ASAP!” I had to respond with all due respect.
It just so happened that the following weekend prior to this conversation with John, I had an epic rafting and kayaking adventure that involved a very serious moment. My best instincts guided me to tell him this story in order to frame an essential starting point for our therapeutic journey. I told John the following:
I was whitewater rafting with my family and some friends on the American River. It was a several-hour paddle through class three and four rapids which was a moderate to difficult rating for whitewater. Towards the end of the day, I opted to challenge my skill by hopping out of the raft and into an inflatable kayak that we had paddled along with us. I had years of kayaking experience and felt confident to run a series of Class 3 rapids. Yet, this was a Class 3 pushing class 4 set of rapids and I was paddling an inflatable kayak that was less than desirable. I went for it regardless. My family went ahead of me leading the way through a 100-yard stretch of rapids with an intimidating name, Satin’s Cesspool. I know… who comes up with these names?! The rapids began with a huge wave that dipped and rose well over head and continued as a half-a-dozen similar sized waves in a straight line fairly evenly spaced called a wave train. I paddled confidently straight ahead with all my strength. The first wave laughed at my inflatable kayak and like a rodeo rider on a bucking bronco, I was tossed in the air. I flipped backwards perfectly into the strongest part of the massive tumbling rapid. I was immediately sucked to the bottom of the river.
I grew up with water sports. I played water polo, and swam competitively through college. I also enjoyed scuba, free diving and surfing. I had plenty of experience with the element of water in various forms. Yet, this was like nothing I had experienced before. The intensity of the river was so immense. The hydraulics were so powerful with the sheer volume of water that even with the life vest, I bounced off the bottom of the river. I remember looking up through the cold, dark-blue water and seeing sunlight far above me. I estimated that I was roughly twenty to thirty feet under. My best instincts lead me not to panic, to do my best to relax and simply hold. Although I was mostly terrified, there was also something strangely beautiful about the experience. I centered myself in the midst of total chaos and I held my breath. I knew that fighting was pointless. I would only exhaust precious oxygen reserves putting myself in greater danger of drowning. My lungs burned but I did my best to stay relaxed. I rode the entirety of the hundred-yard wave train completely underwater with my body twisting and rolling until I was finally pushed to the surface. My rafting companions and family were visibly shaken and relieved to see me. They helped me climb back to the safety of the raft. They told me I was underwater for at least three to four minutes.
As I told John the story, I think he sensed the undercurrent of what I was saying. I was not attempting to match his story for what I considered a near death experience. My scary moment most likely represented only a fraction of the fear that John was facing. My aim was to help him not panic, and to face his reality honestly.
I could tell that John was the kind of man that was used to giving directives. He was used to getting prompt results. However, it would have been ignorant of me to say, “yeah, sure John, no problem, I'll fix your family, let’s go.” I needed to first frame my reply with a sense of realism while I attempted to take on the gravity of his circumstance. Without sounding pessimistic, I wanted John to get the point that no matter how much he may desire to control the outcome, he most likely had to surrender to a power greater than him. I sensed that this was John’s biggest fear, losing control.
From that first session, I earned John’s respect as he returned for several counseling sessions. John tried several times to convince his three children to meet together in order to talk things through yet only one of the three children was willing to counsel. One of his son’s did attend a few sessions and presented with compassion and the intent to support his father’s dying wishes. There was some level of peace found with that. However, the other two adult children were locked in their position of contempt and conflict. They would simply not enter into counseling let alone the same room with one another. The relational patterns in John’s family were the result of decades of programming.
Most of the therapeutic focus with John was best allocated to helping him find peace in his final season of life, regardless of things not going as he planned. Throughout our meetings, John’s tone of urgency evolved to contentment in-between lamenting tones of regret. When people are facing death, they rarely care about the worldly things that most of us fret upon. John lamented about lost time and wishing he had been more present and considerate to the people most important in his life. I had roughly six months working with John and then he disappeared. As a therapist, it is inevitable to meet clients like John and their story echoes and fades into mystery.
This story is not just a testimonial about the transformational power of therapy as much as it is a story of an unexamined life.
I heard it once said that there are three great powers in the world: the power of the sword, to protect what you love, the power of the gem to survive and thrive in the world, and lastly the power of the mirror which is to know thyself. All three powers are essential for the optimal life. Yet, many people do not place much importance on the later. If we do not consistently look at ourselves in the mirror throughout our life, we will not know ourselves, know the things that scare us, know the things that we might avoid, our blind-sides, our broken pieces, our shadows, our secrets. The unexamined life is a life of ignorance. Some might say that ignorance is bliss, maybe, but far too often it is the root of our suffering. How can we grow as people if we don't know our weaknesses? At the same time, how do we know our strengths if we don't know ourselves? We have to look in the mirror throughout the many seasons of our lives.
For John, the existential crisis of death was laid upon him. Arguably, no one is completely ready for that. Yet, I can't help but think that had John valued self-reflection, or perhaps even therapy earlier in his life, he would have been much better equipped to navigate through the chaos. Like so many people, John placed greater value on developing his career and accumulating resources and wealth. That doesn't make him a bad man. It just means he wasn't truly rich from the perspective of having meaningful relationships with his children or family. Perhaps, if John had spent more time getting to know himself, he would have adjusted his work/life balance and made himself more available to guide his children fostering love and connection in his life. Even if John could not escape his fate, a terminal illness, perhaps he would have been more at peace, knowing that his kids valued each other more than they valued the material resources and wealth, his primary legacy.
I am truly grateful to have met John and to have played a role, however small, helping him find peace in his final days. Encounters like this touch me on a soul level. In my quiet moments, I sometimes cry for these people. I exhale the tears that represent the broken pieces of humanity.
Sometimes, I have people tell me that they cannot imagine doing my job. Honestly, I love doing what I do. There is pay beyond the pay. I am honored to help people be the best version of themselves, regardless of their challenges. There are so many stories and I see a little bit of myself in every one of them.
