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Saturday, Jun. 18, 2005 - 5:27 p.m. DEAD MAN WALKING A few months ago I began seeing a new therapist with the thinking that someone diagnosed with bipolar disorder should have counseling just to be on the safe side, even if he is more stable than the vast majority of the American population. He claimed to be a “Christian” therapist, so I figured he would at least inspire some sense of morality in the course of my personal growth. In the “Sock Drawer” entry, I sort-of mention the types of things we talked about. In my next couple of entries, religion seems to become a regular theme. I date a girl I met at church, and I meet another from a Christian internet dating service. I then find myself on a retreat with a group of young adults with cultish tendencies. Next I announce that I am “claiming my identity,” emphasizing the fact that I remain a lily-white virgin at age 28. If this pattern continues, it appears as though I will claim the identity of some sort of minister, or worse yet, a celibate monk. Perhaps that is where the Experiment is headed, for this current entry will likely point into that direction. First of all, I want to mention once again that I am keeping my specific religion secret. In no way does this entry identify me as Catholic, as the particular nun I have agreed to see also counsels protestant ministers, mainly because adequate spiritual direction is difficult to find in any religious denomination. In any case, my reasons for seeing her go beyond simple religious motives. When one mentions a nun, most people harken back to memories of women covered in black with these huge veils over their heads such as might be seen in the movie, “Sister Act.” In reality, many modern religious orders of nuns do not regularly wear a habit, favoring normal, secular attire. These nuns blend in with regular society and cannot be easily identified. Such is the case with the nun that now counsels me. My inspiration for “hiring” her (it is technically a donation to her order), was Susan Sarandon’s Oscar-winning role as a nun in the movie “Dead Man Walking.” Interestingly, my counselor’s convent near where I live is the same convent where Susan Sarandon’s character lived in the movie. I figured if a nun could offer spiritual direction to a man on death-row, a nun could also counsel a guy like me. The over-arching principle here, though, is my belief that all the counseling I have received so far from those other therapists is absolute bullshit. I could not trust a single one of them. That first one back in Houston was clearly in it simply for the money, as he prolonged referring me to a psychiatrist as long as possible until he no longer had a choice. All the while he was filling my head with absolute nonsense about how everything wrong was a result of my own free-will and that all I had to do was “change” and get in touch with my emotions. I changed and got in touch with my emotions, but it had nothing to do with my free-will. Next comes the therapist I had in Baton Rouge that encouraged me to go on that trip to New York. A couple weeks before that trip he is giving me tips on how to prolong male orgasm just in case this girl and I decide to have sex. Never mind the fact that at that point I had never dated before, much less been with a girl naked, especially one I had only spoken to on the phone. I end up stranded in the middle of this huge city I had never visited before. And of course, the so-called “Christian” therapist I saw a couple of months ago. After talking to him, I came to realize his beliefs are less Christian than mine are; he was like every other shallow American who creates their “own personal Jesus” and carries no real moral conviction. Call me judgmental if you choose, but I will always call a spade when I see one. So now comes this nun. She entered the convent at age 18, and as a result of a tumor in her uterus, had a hysterectomy at age 22. She kept her ovaries, so she appears like a normal-functioning woman. When I told her of my condition with bipolar disorder, my inexperience in relationships, and my silly quest to find the woman of my dreams, I instantly found myself appearing like a wining child. I could not honestly tell a woman who took vows at age 18 to never marry that I needed sex and a relationship to be happy. Instead of ending up in an argument like I had done with all these other nutcase therapists, I found this nun supportive of who I am and what I believe in, and that I truly ought to not change anything about myself that I felt did not need to change. Indeed, I know my faults and I do not need some therapist to point them out to me. I also do not need them hypocritically telling me how to fix them. I probably will not be getting any experienced advice from this nun in dating, or in sex, for that matter. The point of this “therapy” is to become what I choose to be, and if doing so results in my being single for the rest of my life, so what? If I am destined to be in a relationship, such things will work their way out on their own. Instead, I need to focus on being myself, and when I can be completely happy with who I am, the “Experiment” will be happily ended. |