Ирвин Ялом - The Schopenhauer Cure

what I would tell you about my trip. But, Julius, I`m sorry, I don`t think I can do

this. I don`t want to stay.»

She stood and turned toward the door. Tony jumped up and took her hand.

«Pam, please. You can`t just leave. You`ve done so much for me. Here, I`ll

sit next to you. You want me to take him out?» Pam smiled faintly and let Tony

lead her back to her seat. Gill changed chairs to open the adjoining seat for Tony.

«I`m with Tony. I want to help,” said Julius. «We all do. But you`ve got to

let us help you, Pam. Obviously, there`s been history, bad history, between you

and Philip. Tell us, talk about it—otherwise our hands are tied.»

Pam nodded slowly, closed her eyes and opened her mouth, but no words

came. Then she stood and walked to the window, rested her forehead against the

pane, and waved off Tony, who had started toward her. She turned, took a couple

of deep breaths, and began speaking in a disembodied voice: «About fifteen years

ago, my girlfriend Molly and I wanted to have a New York experience. Molly had

lived next door to me since childhood and was my best friend. We had just

finished our freshman year at Amherst and enrolled together for summer classes

at Columbia. One of our two courses was on the pre–Socratic philosophers, and

guess who was the TA?»

«TA?» asked Tony.

«Teaching assistant,” interjected Philip softly but instantaneously, speaking

for the first time in the session. «The TA is a graduate student who assists the

professor by leading small discussion groups, reading papers, grading exams.»

Pam seemed staggered by Philip`s unexpected comment.

Tony answered her unspoken question: «Philip`s the official answer man

here. Put out a question and he answers it. Sorry, once you got started, I should

have kept my mouth shut. Go on. Can you join us here in the circle?»

Pam nodded, went back to her seat, closed her eyes again, and continued:

«So fifteen years ago I was at Columbia summer school with Molly, and this man,

this creature, sitting here was our TA. My friend Molly was in a bad place: she

had just broken up with her long–term boyfriend. And no sooner did the course

begin than this...this excuse for a man»—she nodded toward Philip—«starts

hitting on her. Remember that we were only eighteen, and he was the teacher—

oh, a real professor showed up for two formal lectures a week, but the TA was

really in charge of the course, including our grades. He was slick. And Molly was

vulnerable. She fell for him and for about a week was in a state of bliss. Then one

Saturday afternoon, he phones me and asks me to meet with him about an exam

essay I had written. He was smooth and ruthless. And I was just stupid enough to

be manipulated, and next thing I knew I was naked on the sofa in his office. I was

an eighteen–year old virgin. And he was into rough sex. And he did it again to me

a couple of days later, and then the pig dropped me, wouldn`t even look at me,

didn`t seem to recognize me, and, worst of all, offered no explanation for

dropping me. And I was too scared to ask—he had the power—he did the grading.

That was my introduction to the bright wonderful world of sex. I was devastated,

so enraged, so ashamed...and...worst of all, so guilty about betraying Molly. And

my view of myself as an attractive woman took a nosedive.»

«Oh, Pam,” said Bonnie shaking her head slowly. «No wonder you`re in

shock now.»

«Wait, wait. You haven`t heard the worst about this monster.» Pam was

revved up. Julius glanced around the room. Everyone was leaning forward,

fixated on Pam, except of course Philip, whose eyes were closed and who looked

as though he were in a trance.

«He and Molly were a couple for another two weeks and then he dropped

her, just told her he was no longer having fun with her and was going to move on.

That was it. Inhuman. Can you believe a teacher saying that to a young student?

He refused to say any more or even help her move the things she had left at his

flat. His parting gesture was to give her a list of the thirteen women he had

screwed that month, many of them in the class. My name was at the top of the

list.»

«He didn`t give her that list,” Philip said, eyes still closed. «She found it

when burglarizing his living space.»

«What sort of depraved creature would even write such a list?» Pam shot

back.

Again in a disembodied voice, Philip responded, «The male hardwiring

directs them to spread their seed. He was neither the first nor the last to take an

inventory of the fields he had plowed and planted.»

Pam turned her palms up to the group, shook her head, and muttered, «You

see,” as if to indicate the bizarreness of this particular life–form. Ignoring Philip,

she continued: «There was pain and destruction. Molly suffered tremendously,

and it was a long long time before she trusted another man. And shenever trusted

me again. That was the end of our friendship. Shenever forgave my betrayal. It

was a terrible loss for me and, I think, for her as well. We`ve tried to pick it up—

even now we e–mail occasionally, keeping each other informed of major life

events—but she`s never, ever, been willing to discuss that summer with me.»

After a long silence, perhaps the longest the group ever sat through, Julius

spoke: «Pam, how awful to have been broken like that at eighteen. The fact that

you never spoke of this to me or the group confirms the severity of the trauma.

And to have lost a lifelong friend in that way! That`s truly awful. But let me say

something else. It`sgood you stayed today. It`s good you talked about it. I know

you`re going to hate my saying this, but perhaps it`s not a bad thing for you that

Philip is here. Maybe there is some work, some healing that can be done. For both

of you.»

«You`re right, Julius—Ido hate your saying that, and, even more, I hate

having to look at this insect again. And here he is in my own cozy group. I feel

defiled.»

Julius`s head spun. Too many thoughts clamored for his attention. How

much could Philip bear? Evenhe had to have a breaking point. How much longer

before he would walk out of the room, never to return? And, as he imagined

Philip`s departure, he contemplated its consequences—on Philip but primarily on

Pam: she mattered far more to him. Pam was a great–souled lady, and he was

committed to helping her find a better future. Would she be well served by

Philip`s departure? Perhaps she`d have some measure of revenge—but what a

pyrrhic victory! If I could find a way, Julius thought, to help Pam reach

forgiveness for Philip, it would heal her—and perhaps Philip as well.

Julius almost flinched when the buzzwordforgiveness passed through his

mind. Of all the various recent movements swirling through the field of therapy,

the hullabaloo around «forgiveness» annoyed him the most. He, like every

experienced therapist, hadalways worked with patients who could not let things

go, who nurtured grudges, who could find no peace—and he hadalways used a

wide variety of methods to help his patients «forgive»—that is, detach from their

anger and resentment. In fact, every experienced therapist had an arsenal of

«letting–go» techniques they often used in therapy. But the simplistic and canny

«forgiveness» industry had magnified, elevated, and marketed this one single

aspect of therapy into the whole shebang and presented it as though it were

something entirely novel. And the ploy had garnered respectability by implicitly

melding with the current social and political forgiveness climate addressing a

range of such offenses as genocide, slavery, and colonial exploitation. Even the

Pope had recently begged forgiveness for the Crusaders` thirteenth–century

sacking of Constantinople.

And if Philip bolted, how wouldhe, as the group therapist, feel? Julius was

resolved not to abandon Philip, yet it was difficult to locate any compassion

toward him. Forty years before, as a young student, he had heard a lecture by

Erich Fromm citing Terence`s epigram written over two thousand years ago: «I

am human, and nothing human is alien to me.» Fromm had stressed that the good

therapist had to be willing to enter into his own darkness and identify with all of

the patient`s fantasies and impulses. Julius tried that on. So, Philip had made a list

of women he had laid? Hadn`t he done that himself when he was younger? Sure

he had. And so had many men with whom he`d discussed this matter.

And he reminded himself that he had a responsibility to Philip—and to

Philip`s future clients. He had invited Philip to become a patient and a student.

Like it or not, Philip was going to be seeing many clients in the future, and to

forsake him now was bad therapy, bad teaching, bad modeling—and immoral to

boot.

With these considerations in mind, Julius pondered what to say. He began

to formulate a statement beginning with his familiar,I have a real dilemma: on the

one hand...and on the other ...But this moment was too loaded for any stock

tactics. Finally, he said, «Philip, in your responses to Pam today you referred to

yourself in the third person: you didn`t say ‘I,` you said, ‘he.` You said, ‘Hedidn`t

give her that list.` I wonder, could you have been implying that you`re a different

person now from the man you were then?»

Philip opened his eyes and faced Julius. A rare locking of gazes. Was there

gratitude in that gaze?

«It`s been known for a long time,” Philip said, «that the cells of the body

age, die, and are replaced at regular intervals. Until a few years ago it was thought

that it was only the brain cells that persisted all of one`s life—and, of course, in

women, the ova. But research has now demonstrated that neural cells, too, die,

and new neurons are continuously being generated, including the cells forming

the architecture of my cerebral cortex, my mind. I think it can fairly be said that

not one cell in me now existed in the man bearing my name fifteen years ago.»

«So, Judge, it wasn`t me,” Tony snarled. «Honest. Ah ain`t guilty;

somebody else, some other brain cells, did the job before ah even got there.»

«Hey, that`s not fair, Tony,” said Rebecca. «All of us want to support Pam,

but there`s got to be a better way than ‘let`s get Philip.` What do you want him to

do?»

«Shit, for starters how about a simple ‘I`m sorry.`” Tony turned to Philip.

«How hard would that be? Would it break your cheeks to say that?»

«I got something to say to both of you,” said Stuart. «You first, Philip. I

keep current on the latest in brain research, and I want to say your facts about cell

regeneration are off. There is some recent research showing that bone marrow

stem cells transplanted in another individual can end up as neurons in some select

areas of the brain, for example, the hippocampus and the Purkinje cells of the

cerebellum, but there isno evidence of new neurons forming in the cerebral

cortex.»

«I stand corrected,” said Philip. «I`d appreciate some literature references,

please. Could you e–mail them?» Philip drew a card out of his wallet and handed