I don't know anything

Bing. 32. Big (quiet; awkward; shy). Outlier (?).

Bing was my first appointment today.

I must confess I was so consumed with thoughts of my afternoon session with Ray that the notion of including Bing’s case in these new integrated notes was probably farthest from my mind.

A quick aside about myself, which I am hesitant to add (please feel free to skip the next few sentences): It seems throughout my life I have come to hold a rather sticky, irrational belief that events will always turn out the opposite of how I expect if I have specific expectations and have not considered alternatives.

This morning, I expected only boring, substitutable Normals; I never considered Bing at all.

And as I see my absurd belief written out here for the first time, I am sure it could be chalked up to mere predictive probabilities feeding a confirmation bias—though “confirming” only that I have no actual psychic powers.

In reality, despite my illogical, interpretative filter of expectations, the reason Bing might be such an important case for demonstrating the effectiveness of my Method is that his sole need appears to be a clearer picture of himself.

In other words, it is not that seeing himself will bring to light some primary concern or tendency, as with most clients; rather, Bing’s actual problem is his lack of self-concept.

Accurate self-revelation is at the heart of what my Method is and does.

Also, Bing shows a highly unusual, unprecedented fusion of Normal and Outlier traits.

So, it is my prediction that Bing’s case will prove invaluable in enabling me to detect differences between multiple Normal clients, particularly those with interpersonal issues.

Why interpersonal issues, and not issues of identity or personality?

Did I not just get through stating that Bing’s true obstacle is his fundamental blindness to himself?

Yet I sense myself jumping way too far ahead again, and that further conjecture and exposition now would be to plow the wrong way down a one-way street with my eyes shut, shouting at the top of my lungs with fingers lodged deep in both ears.

I will surely have to edit much of this part out.

As always, all shall be made clear via the simple recorded workings of my Method.

Let me start again at the beginning.

It would be an understatement to say that Bing frightened me initially.

My plan this morning, before arriving early and putting on a pot of coffee to brew, had been to spend my first half-hour or so quietly preparing for my later time with Ray.

I was glad to have gotten something of a good night’s sleep, though I found it strange to find no recollection of having actually gone to bed; I could remember perusing my notes on Ray at about eight o’clock last night, but then nothing after that before having awoken this morning with new angles and lines of questioning already circling my mind.

Sipping my coffee, I glanced at the mess of strewn papers that currently makes much of my desk resemble an uncovered landfill; these are the previous case notes I mentioned—the disconnected ones, each of which is meant to tie somehow to an individual client.

I considered that, since my Normals have become so maddeningly interchangeable, I might be able to record a single generic session with one and simply sell it to the rest.

Patting around the more chaotic edges of my paper pile, I began to wonder what I could hope to charge for such a one-size-fits-most product.

I was reminded of my need to raise my prices soon.

Then out of nowhere, a tall, rugged, heavyset man emerged beside me like an enormous killer whale about to crash down and crush a tiny rowboat.

Fighting not to stumble sideways, or otherwise reveal how startled I was, I peered covertly over at my schedule and realized the hulking, unkempt blob before me must be Bing.

How might I describe my first impressions?

I was certainly intrigued by the way the big man moved as he sauntered ever so delicately back between the two small chairs opposite me.

His stance was crooked and sideways . . . his gait, slow and shuffling.

He gave the impression of never quite being able to sit or stand up straight.

He seemed at all times to be drawn away from the center of the room as if pulled by magnets in the corners.

His overall demeanor depicted something of a silent, restless search for ways not to assert himself.

Basically, despite his size, I would say Bing seemed to want to occupy as little of my space and visual attention as possible.

If there were such a thing as a reverse inferiority or superiority complex, that would be my diagnosis just from having briefly watched him stand, move, and sit.

I first asked how he was doing.

BING:

“Well, it looks like having dreams isn’t enough to get me straight, right?”

You should never be disarmed by a client’s sudden rush to depth; new clients will have likely spent a great deal of time reflecting in advance on how to best express their dilemmas once in session.

Yet I certainly would have expected neither depth nor haste from the uncomfortable, extremely cautious giant lumbering and slumped before me.

I fired back immediately, asking what he had meant by “straight.”

He mentioned an ongoing addiction to marijuana.

This was a new one for me; it made me smile.

I realized right away, however, how inexcusably unprofessional smiling was; so, I quickly covered up with questions about the duration and scope of his addiction.

He spent the next few minutes scratching through all sorts of attempts at tying his overuse of the drug to hindrances in job performance, motivation, health, and essentially every other important life arena.

All of those ties utterly failed; in fact, he was unable to articulate any specific negative effects at all.

So, sans such measurable consequences, I interpreted Bing’s addiction to really be a stand-in scapegoat used to blame for some other personality, character, or developmental issue he would be likely just as burdened by if he had never tried marijuana.

Rather than getting caught up in fruitless arguments over terms, I realized Bing’s Sticking or Breaking Point would result from examining just what he hoped “breaking the addiction” would mean or do for him.

Client narratives, no matter how ridiculous, almost never need be opposed directly; once underlying hopes and desires can be effectively made known, any false stories told and believed get brought into alignment with reality on their own.

Such is the beauty of my Method.

I have had great success with a relaxation exercise called Faum’s Successive Breathing Technique; so, to help Bing calm down and concentrate, we cycled together through Faum’s first ten breaths or so.

I then had him lay still and continue to breathe as deeply and slowly as possible for another two minutes as I watched.

Next, I told him to imagine his addiction as a living, intentional entity—something else, separate from himself.

The irony here should definitely not go unnoticed; for though the faux effects of Bing’s addiction exist entirely within his own perspective, having him envision a [false] distinction between the addiction and himself was a subtle way to begin to rob it of its fall-guy function as an excuse to hide behind.

We circled back to some of the challenges he had mentioned already.

ME:

“So how does the addiction make you feel at work, when you’re around your supervisors and coworkers?”

BING:

“At work, it’s like I’m not even there. I just sit in this big room, so worried everyone’s going to know I’m high.”

He next mumbled something about noticing his thoughts could be particularly funny at times, but that the drug made him act like too much of a “dorky loser” to ever actually joke with anyone.

This led to mention of “an extreme pain,” but he quickly backpedaled, assuring me it was something he no longer felt.

I pressed a little, but Bing was resolute.

Always assume a client wants to share whatever they might begin to reveal.

I noted that perhaps I would first need to gain a bit more of the big man’s trust.

I asked him to elaborate on his funny thoughts.

He stammered through a convoluted explanation of having recently (reluctantly) given up on an unspecific goal to pursue standup comedy.

He claimed his addiction had kept him from ever taking any practical steps toward performing, and that it would now be most likely too late.

ME:

“What steps did your addiction keep you from taking?”

BING:

“Well, I could never call to book an open mic night, or anything. I was just too wasted in my apartment all the time.”

Of course, nothing about a felt inability to refrain from marijuana use should have kept Bing from making that call.

After all, he called me two days ago to arrange our session this morning.

Having Bing picture his addiction as a separate entity would allow for such logical disconnects to be sidestepped so my Method could then begin working indirectly to reach and reveal the true source of his pain, reluctance, failure, etc.

ME:

“Take some time and think about why you wanted a career in comedy.

“What good outcome were you hoping for?

“Maybe think about that and record your thoughts in a journal we can look at next time.”

His eyes widened inexplicably at mention of the word “journal.”

ME:

“So, at the end of the day, what do you want?

“I’m asking because I think we need to view your addiction in a new way.

“Imagine the addiction only wants to overtake you.

“The addiction wants to consume and control you as much as it can so your goals will be no match for its goals, so to speak.”

Again, although my language here surely appears to inflate and amplify the role of Bing’s addiction, understand that such over-exaggeration was to ultimately highlight the overblown nature of his beliefs about his addiction.

ME:

“Don’t see the situation as you failing to do what you want because you can’t stop using marijuana.

“Instead, view your addiction as something foreign that’s currently living its life through you, keeping you from living it.”

Bing kept quiet for a moment.

His thoughtful expression suggested he really was digesting my words, which speaks to his intelligence.

So, what does Bing want?

What is he using the idea of an addiction to avoid?

What is it about himself he refuses to see?

Well, consider the examples cited already: Bing feels unable to connect at work, unable to make friends to laugh with, and unable to assert himself in pursuit of his dreams.

I am certain that I do in fact know why he blames such concerns on his abiding overuse of marijuana.

But I also know his reasons are irrelevant.

I could undoubtedly fill limitless volumes with data to flesh out the true driving force I see behind his self-deception, labelling him with every relevant fancy-sounding condition imaginable.

Yet such work would prove pointless, both in bringing about Bing’s Sticking or Breaking Point, and also for purposes of future study.

Again, the only thing needed is for my Method to make clear exactly what Bing, himself, wants.

Once he sees what he wants, it will be impossible for him to go on ignoring his own next steps toward that desired outcome, regardless of whether or not he continues to use or abuse any drug.

He will then no longer be able to carry his addiction card as a crutch.

Since only self-revelation is required in Bing’s case, I wonder if there is even potential for breaking when he reaches his Sticking or Breaking Point.

I began to hint that he might try to see his addiction entity as something positive—something (or someone) to actually learn from—though I sensed we had already reached a good stopping point for today.

We may have been moving a little too fast.

I like Bing.

Despite his refusal to be or acknowledge much of what he is, he comes across as having a very honest, trustworthy nature, which I find quite refreshing.

I had planned to delve more into his impossible combination of Normal and Outlier characteristics but will leave that for my notes on our next session.

The last thing Bing shared before leaving today was about a recurring dream in which he finds himself performing in public for the first time yet cannot keep from floating up and off the stage like a balloon no matter what he tries to grab and hold to ground himself.