The Use of Metaphor by an Artless First-Time Psychotherapist

Abstract

Once upon a time there was a young man who lived with his mother, whom he loved very much. Life was perfect: he went to school, where he was doing very well, then he came home to a warm, incense-scented environment with a good meal in the oven and a mother who was devoted to him in every way. He would eat dinner, and speak with his mother, and she understood. Afterwards, he would go to his room, where he had a large drawing board, and he would paint and draw many beautiful things. Sometimes his mother would be visited by [Kl Nights, but she always sent them away at his insistence. Across town lived his father and his stepmother. When he visited them, the slothfulness of their existence turned him off. He was determined that he, unlike his father, would never be trapped by Sloth into a life without creation. On occasion, he was visited by a black-haired beauty who sunk her claws into him. Sometimes she drew blood and he was reminded of Temptation. At other times, he did not recognize Temptation when he put down his palette. Then one day, his mother became ill. Soon afterwards, she died. And the boy was left only with his memories of Heaven. Sloth and Temptation slowly crept in, and he let them, unaware of his potency in battle.About a month after I started my residency, I was encouraged to start long-term psychotherapy with C.M., an 18-year-old man, whom I had been seeing in the Crisis Clinic. He was suffering from a depression, which had been precipitated by the impending death of his mother. I was engulfed by many fears and anxieties. I felt that I had no idea what, exactly, psychotherapy was; I had absolutely no experience in helping people solve their "Resident in Psychiatry, University of Toronto. Mailing address: c/o Postgraduate Education Office, Clarke Institute of Psychiatry, 8th floor,