Inside the mind of a psychiatrist – Page 116 – Inside The Mind of a Psychiatrist

Ten years ago, a 14 y/o boy (I’ll call him Brian) began treatment for depression and insecurity. Brian was an attractive, soft-spoken young man who was aware of feeling depressed, but had trouble articulating exactly why, except for the fact that he felt lonely.

A few months into weekly psychotherapy, he shared that he was being tormented while playing in a touch football game with other middle-school boys. Jack, one of the boys, kept knocking him down or hitting him without any provocation. Brian’s eyes filled with tears. “What can I do? I tried talking to him, but he just ignored me. I asked him why he was doing it, and he just laughed. We play every day at recess, and I really don’t want to stop because of him.”

“Any clues as to why he’s so mean?”

“None. I didn’t do anything.”

We spent the hour exploring all possibilities and came up empty. Towards the end of the session, I leaned forward in my chair and looked Brian square in the eyes. “Brian, I’m going to make a recommendation, but if you tell anyone I’ll deny it.”

“What? What do you mean?” Brian asked, obviously intrigued.

“I want you to knock Jack down, so hard, that he has trouble getting up. You’ve tried talking to him like a decent person. It got you nowhere. He’s not reasonable and not nice… Knock him down hard, but don’t kill him or break any bones.”

Brian just stared at me.

“Brian, you’re a really good guy, and what he’s doing isn’t fair.”

Brian just kept staring.

“Any other thoughts?”

Brian shook his head.

“Okay, see you next week.”

Brian nodded, stood up, gave me a sheepish smile, and left. I sat for the longest time staring at my diplomas. Did I do the right thing? There were no classes on helping nice kids battle playground bullies in my psychiatric residency.

The next week, Brian walked in the door, and before he even sat down said, “I did it!” He had a huge smile plastered across his usually worried face.

“What? What did you do? Tell me all about it!”

“We started playing and Jack went back to pass. I aimed my head for his stomach and knocked him down as hard as I could. When we were on the ground, I got on top of him and just stared him in the face. Then I got up and walked alone back to school.”

I encouraged Brian to tell me in detail how the whole thing went down. As the story unfolded, it became clear that Jack was actually on the same team as Brian. In effect, Brian had knocked down his own quarterback! I said, “Wow, that was really making a statement.” Then we both laughed and hi-fived.

It’s not often in therapy that there is a pivotal moment when things change. But, this was such a moment.

I treated Brian all through high school and saw him during holidays until he graduated college. Brian became an all-state wrestler in high school and was a varsity wrestler at a well-known university. He remained a sweet, caring person, had good friends, and a good relationship with his family.

When Brian learned to defend himself, he also learned to value himself. A person with good self-esteem doesn’t let himself be bullied.

This was one my most well-received posts. Bullies need to be stopped. Whether they exist on the schoolyard, the workplace or inhabit religious fanatic sects, it is my hope that we can all have the right to choose who we want to be and have the freedom to make that choice come true.

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“Who’s the boss?” six-year-old Jason asked me, as he watched waiters and patrons milling about the busy Italian restaurant.

Across the room, a man dressed in a suit and tie was writing in a notebook and directing a waiter to clean and set up a table that was just vacated. After a few moments, I got his attention and he came over to our table.

“Jason has a question,” I said. “Do you have a moment to answer it?”

“Sure. What is it Jason?”

Jason hesitated, looked at me, then back at the man. “Are you the boss?” he asked, a very serious expression on his face.

“I am the boss,” the man said with a smile.

Jason nodded. “How come you don’t work as hard as everyone else?”

The boss laughed and shot me a smile. “No one ever asked me that question before… Well, I work hard, but as you can see, it’s a different kind of work. My work is to tell everyone else what to do.”

Jason nodded again. “Do you make more money than everyone else?”

An even bigger smile stretched across the boss’s face. “I do make more money. That’s why you have to work hard in school; so one day you can be the boss.”

Jason nodded, his little brow furrowed, as he brushed his hand across his short blond hair.

“Thank you very much for spending time with us,” I said.

“Thank you,” Jason said.

“You’re welcome,” the boss said, and returned to his duties.

We each took a bite of pizza and sips of our drinks. Then Jason looked at me, and with utter sincerity said, “When I get big, I want to be the boss.”

“What kind of boss?”

“The boss of Doctors.”