Formative Years or How My Choice of Profession wasn’t Necessarily a Choice
I am the oldest of 6 kids from an Irish-American Catholic family.
My father was alcoholic and my mother was severely depressed her entire
adult life. Much has been written about being an adult children of
alcoholics (eg. http://www.adultchildren.org/lit/Laundry_List.php).
There was emotional abuse and by today’s standards some intermittent
physical abuse and a lot of emotional neglect. Rather than present a
list of all the ugly facts of my family suffice to say it was a perfect
breeding ground for becoming a clinical psychologist. One night my
mother was driving us to our grandparents house and on the way we see my
father’s car being towed by a big truck; it was completely totaled.
That evening I went upstairs to use the bathroom. I remember washing my
hands staring in the mirror and saying aloud to myself ” You have to
get into a position when you grow up to be able to listen to people
having a hard time so nobody has to feel as lousy as you do now”.
I remember growing up with the distinct feeling my father was disappointed in me as a son at times comparing me to another kid and asking why I couldn’t be like so and so. My relationship with my father was stormy. He started his own business when I was 12. He kept me working very long hours. Working for him felt like torture. One upside is that I always had money that covered my expenses and those of friends that didn’t have money.
I believe I survived my early years because I was fortunate to make lots of good friends from the neighborhood and at school. Also, I was busy with different sports and other adult structured activities. I think I know during my teen years music and reading were life-savers, perhaps quite literally. Music and books introduced me to the minds of people who thought and felt much as I did. Curiously and funny now things like listening to music and reading books not assigned in school were considered weird. I remember turning 16 and my girlfriend gave me a poster with an HD Thoreau quote “IIf a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/h/henrydavid141463.html#Ekss82ofLqOsiajB.99f a man does not keep pace with his companions perhaps it is because he hears the sound of a different drum ….” My parents thought my girlfriend was insulting me with the gift despite her explaining why you got this particular gift for me. As one you might gather my parents were a bit concerned that I was developing into a weirdo.
All for the moment…..more to come
I remember growing up with the distinct feeling my father was disappointed in me as a son at times comparing me to another kid and asking why I couldn’t be like so and so. My relationship with my father was stormy. He started his own business when I was 12. He kept me working very long hours. Working for him felt like torture. One upside is that I always had money that covered my expenses and those of friends that didn’t have money.
I believe I survived my early years because I was fortunate to make lots of good friends from the neighborhood and at school. Also, I was busy with different sports and other adult structured activities. I think I know during my teen years music and reading were life-savers, perhaps quite literally. Music and books introduced me to the minds of people who thought and felt much as I did. Curiously and funny now things like listening to music and reading books not assigned in school were considered weird. I remember turning 16 and my girlfriend gave me a poster with an HD Thoreau quote “IIf a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.
Read more at http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/h/henrydavid141463.html#Ekss82ofLqOsiajB.99f a man does not keep pace with his companions perhaps it is because he hears the sound of a different drum ….” My parents thought my girlfriend was insulting me with the gift despite her explaining why you got this particular gift for me. As one you might gather my parents were a bit concerned that I was developing into a weirdo.
All for the moment…..more to come
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