“My name is Bob Livingstone and I have been a psychotherapist in private practice for almost thirty years.  This blog post has been written ​ based on real experiences. The individuals depicted are fictional.”

My name is John V and I am forty-seven years old. I have been a school counselor for over thirty years.  I am driven to take on the most difficult and heartbreaking cases.   I am compelled to continually prove my worth by working with angry men, neglected children, emotionally wounded mothers and a sea of lost souls.  I am afraid that no one will respect me unless I throw one hundred percent of my efforts into helping others.   Sometimes I want to resign from these cases, but fear that I will be viewed as a quitter by my clients and other professionals.

I wake up in the morning and long to be the best but fear I am the worst.  I work diligently to help parents understand their children’s pain, but so often I fall short.  This experience leads me to feel powerless, hopeless and wonder why I continue this futile quest.

I wonder why deep inside I feel inadequate and always on the verge of getting kicked out of whatever groups I belong to.  Why do I feel so worried that my work will not measure up to other’s standards?

Is it because I am Jewish and I fear that my existence can be wiped out by some Hitler in the making?   Do I feel that the world hates Jews?  What do you think?

Is it because my mother died suddenly when I was twelve and I worry that the state of personal connection with another could be terminated at any moment?

Is it because my heart stopped a few times and I know up front and personal that you can die without warning?

I notice when someone gives me a compliment, instead of feeling acknowledged, my insides freeze up and numbness sets in.   I don’t feel like I deserve any accolades and I’m afraid to allow any of this good buzz to enter my heart.  I am afraid that if I let any of this warm and fuzzy stuff in, I will become dependent upon tenderness.  I believe that this tenderness will eventually disappear and then I will become devastated.   I am more guarded than I would care to admit.

I don’t feel like I deserve any of the good stuff because I’ve not done anything of merit.  When I am in this place, it is dark, gloomy and scary.  It is comforting in a way that car alarms are soothing only because we are so familiar with them.  I assume that this must be what depression is like, but putting a labeling it does nothing for me.

I believe that all the good in my life is a fluke and will vanish at any time.  When I am in this state, I cannot comprehend why I have a loving and understanding wife and compassionate children.  It surprises me to know that friends call me up and ask to hang out.  It is shocking that I participate in many enjoyable activities.  It seems like this guy is someone other than me.

I have been down this road so many times and have worked on these issues constantly.  I find that I interface with my inner demons too often. When I fall into my personal hell, I cannot breathe or see the sun.   I feel like a bitter fifteen year old whose girlfriend left him for his best friend.  I put up the good fight every day because I am scarred of not coming out swinging.  Clawing my way through life seems like the only path.

Do I have the strength and fortitude to overcome this internal nastiness?  When I put forth the energy to be aware of when I am being triggered (many times during every day), I can put my observing self to work.  I fall off the cliff so quickly, so I have to constantly pay attention to know when this ugly shift occurs.

When I find myself telling a father for the one hundredth time that he cannot keep yelling at his daughter and expect her to be warm towards him.  Usually I feel that I must keep trying to alter this man’s outraged reaction and if I cease to do so, I am giving up and therefore a terrible person.

Instead, I will accept that this man is not going to change.  I will now focus on helping his daughter get out of this situation by moving away to college next year and helping her understand that her father’s yelling is not her fault.  She didn’t cause it.

I am worn out from beating myself up.  I am self-critical when I fail to save others. It is time for this tendency to end.

I am walking with the sun burning down on my face, grateful for having the opportunity to change and heal.  Mavis Staples song, “I’ll be Rested” comes through the headphones and I feel acceptance.  The world is full of evil and good.

I cannot eradicate evil from the world, but maybe I can make it a little better place.

“Hunger only for a taste of justice
Hunger only for a world of truth
‘Cause all that you have is your soul”

Written by Tracy Chapman  All that you have is your Soul

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