My buddy, “Ralph,” teaches at a major university. He is about as bright a guy as I’ve ever met and one of the most well rounded. He can expound on any topic from the physical sciences to the formation of black holes, to Shakespeare, classical music, the stock market, the Greeks, you name it. One night at the school’s annual fund-raising gala he and I were discussing a mutual friend “Edward,” who was coming unglued.

It’s almost time for resolution and termination but first some last minute housekeeping. You should know that I do not believe Adam and Eve are historical people. I was taught Darwin’s theory of biological evolution by the Jesuits and that’s how I perceive life on our planet. That is also Rome’s official position. I also believe in the theory of spiritual evolution convincingly put forth by the paleontologist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, S.J. (It’s a toss up, however, to see which is moving at the slower pace.)

The theme throughout this book has been: When a person is emotionally messed up, he or she was made that way, in most instances, from childhood experiences. This is not my idea; I’ve just brought it to your attention. Those of us in the mental health field encounter this truth everyday we go to work.

When listening to my patients tell about their less-than-perfect, sometimes horrific, childhoods, I sometimes asked myself, “Who saved their butts?” Yes, they were in analysis and, yes, they had a multitude of problems yet they were, in most cases, able to function in their families and in society. They were capable of performing their jobs, loving others and being loved — at least to some degree. It stood to reason that somewhere in their youth or childhood someone must have done something good — to them. Discovering that person, or persons, was an important part of the analysis.

When children are growing up their parents are omnipotent, so it is safe to say they will have enormous impact on their children’s emotional development. When environmentally caused problems arise, a parent is probably — at least partially — responsible, either directly or indirectly.

Many of the maladies that affect our emotional systems are fueled by the amount of anger we have storehoused in our unconscious minds. This cache of dangerous energy will dictate more than any other factor whether we are at peace with ourselves, and others, or are a bundle of nerves replete with anxiety, fear, guilt, and frustration. It can even dictate our ability, or inability, to love and to be loved, and to experience and sustain joy. Anger is a curse of being human and what is bedeviling is that we can’t consciously feel it for what it is. It’s just there in the unconscious — eating away at us.

The majority of my patients came to see me because they were depressed. Some were especially down in the dumps and others were only vaguely sad — but all the time. Depression is now at the epidemic level in the United States and I’d like to give a plug to the pharmaceutical industry. Through years of research and development it has discovered numerous drugs that effectively alter moods so that people can get out of bed, go to work, adequately function within their families and cope from day to day. These drugs do not “cure” depression (or other emotional problems) but they may keep them from overwhelming, and they’ve become necessary in our society. So “Attaboy” to the drug companies from a traditional psychoanalyst. They are filling a necessary need, and we’ll talk more about them in Chapter 25.

I was sitting in the rocking chair on the front porch of our house in the North Carolina mountains enjoying the summer night. Barbara was out of town visiting her parents. It was an extraordinarily pleasant evening with soft breezes and a light rain. The insects in the trees had begun their eternal argument about Katie: “She did .... She didn’t! ... Yes, she did .... No, she didn’t!” An owl in the woods across the road gave a low, triple hoot.

People go through life with a multitude of eyeballs. Architects see structures noting design and materials; realtors look for FSBO’s (for sale by owner’s); clergymen see the wondrous hand of God on his creation, or they see the mark of the Devil — depending on their bent. Judges look for precedents; lawyers look for loopholes; burglars look for open windows; policemen look for suspicious characters and tree trimmers look for Dutch elm disease. There are so many facets to life we can’t possibly see them all, so we specialize. In the case of a shrink, our eyes are on the lookout for unconscious forces. This chapter will give you an idea how I, as a psychoanalyst, view some aspects of everyday life.

Shrinks, like other professionals, are a kaleidoscope of humanity. They are fat, skinny, tall, short, handsome, beautiful, ugly. Some have bombastic personalities and others are terribly shy. If there is a common thread, and of course there is, shrinks, like their patients, knew they weren’t quite right. That’s why they entered the mental health field. Psychoanalysis has been called the only profession where people pay you — so you can cure yourself.