Daphne Merkin on the right.
Now I'm depressed.
Posted on 08/05/2010 4:28:12 PM PDT by ventanax5
All those years, all that money, all that unrequited love. It began way back when I was a child, an anxiety-riddled 10-year-old who didn’t want to go to school in the morning and had difficulty falling asleep at night. Even in a family like mine, where there were many siblings (six in all) and little attention paid to dispositional differences, I stood out as a neurotic specimen. And so I was sent to what would prove to be the first of many psychiatrists in the four and a half decades to follow — indeed, I could be said to be a one-person boon to the therapeutic establishment — and was initiated into the curious and slippery business of self-disclosure. I learned, that is, to construct an ongoing narrative of the self, composed of what the psychoanalyst Robert Stoller calls “microdots” (“the consciously experienced moments selected from the whole and arranged to present a point of view”), one that might have been more or less cohesive than my actual self but that at any rate was supposed to illuminate puzzling behavior and onerous symptoms — my behavior and my symptoms.
(Excerpt) Read more at nytimes.com ...
You didn’t comment. Can you give me a reason this excerpt from someone’s navel-gazing warrants one click on the enemy camp’s virus infested site? There must be some reason you thought it worth posting but I can’t tell what it is from the excerpt or from your non-comment.
LOL!! Good comment.
I guess Daphne belongs at the NY Slimes.
Daphne Merkin on the right.
Now I'm depressed.
DAPHNE MERKIN
Poor child. What an unfortunate last name. Maybe that’s the root of her trouble.
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=merkin
You were doomed to a life of therapy the moment your parents named you Daphne, Daphne.
Good God. I tried to read this, I really did, but after page 2 I just wanted to clunk her over the head and steal her wallet. Clearly someone with too much money and too much time on her hands.
As far a sleep is concerned,, if it was daylight outside, my mother would not let us in the house until supper. (dark thirty) We were dead tired from BB gun hunting expeditions, building forts, and sand lot football, sleep was not an issue...
I don't know what city kids did.
“Dark Thirty”...lol...that’s what our mom called it...about 8:30 every night, all the moms in the neighborhood would come out and start calling us inside...
At 8:30 in the morning, we all got kicked outside unless it was raining.
I miss summer in Mississippi.
Every morning in the summer months started with a bowl of cereal.
I would make my own balogna sandwiches.
On my second-hand bicycle- off to see the world.
Supper was a 5pm. You miss it, you didn’t get any. (Peanut butter).
Back outside for games until dark.
Sleeping soundley in less than 10 minutes.
Repeat
Just moved from Jackson to Alabama in the last couple weeks,, and visited Vicksburg just a few months ago..
I bet its the same as you remember in the country,,,, city... different story!
Eight pages in “America’s newspaper of record” ? ? ?
The warning line was early on: “I stood out as a neurotic specimen. And so I was sent to what would prove to be the first of many psychiatrists in the four and a half decades to follow”.
Fifty years and she still continues “in therapy”?
‘Nuff said.
As a side note,, that time continued on with us as young adults,, as when to meet to go drink beer and kiss girls,,,, life was good :-)
This lady fits right in with DU. Just proves that being left is a mental illness.
Oh,,,, the bicycle... I often would head off to school on my bicycle,, and often would not arrive as the pull of adventure was to much,, ya I was disiplined,, but it was worth it.... Then when I got my D.L... off to school I'd go,, but the beach was calling,, off to the beach I'd go... life was good..........
PS,, I never went to jail or failed to show up for work as an adult...but...........those were the days.....
bump
Oy, it goes on for 8 PAGES!
she sees the therapist MULTIPLE TIMES per week!
I know NY and I AM neurotic, but even I can’t contemplate reading this article in its entirety.
I hope this woman is going to be OK, but I am pretty gosh darn sure there are people who need some real help and who aren’t getting it.
Which is what I’m always sure of when I encounter these big city neuro situations.
The point of all of this seems to be that her parents should have strangled her in her crib and saved a lot of trouble.
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