An Old Psychologist Reminisces
Today is my brother-in-law’s birthday. Another year older. I am reminded that Joyce and I have lived in our present home, designed for seniors, for seven years. In less than a month we will have been married for fifty-nine years. In those days, we married young, and got to grow up together. We had out first fight over whether or not I would wear a particular straw hat. Silly, really. It obviously wasn’t in style, but it was a power issue. Now I welcome her input into what looks good (to others). My dermatologist had done a biopsy on my head, checking for skin cacer and leaving a sizable red mark on my skull, and she put a bit of makeup on it for last Saturday’s wedding.
I’m rambling, for want of something important to say this morning. With the recent changes in Ontario’s Autism Program, I am expecting to find myself out of a job, perhaps totally retired rather than just semi, which is too bad because I am so knowledgeable in the subject. Quite a few of the psychologists that I worked with at the Ontario Correctional Institute are both drawing a pension (like myself) and still working, but they are doing mainly assessment, and I don’t really want to get tooled up for that again. My interest lies in various forms of psychotherapy. It has been my interest for ever, it seems: Psychoanalysis, psychoanalytic psychotherapy, Rogerian psychotherapy and its derivatives (Carkhuff, Helping and Human Relations and Egan, The Skilled Helper), systematic desensitization, hypnosis, Zen, neurolinguistic programming, the energy therapies, applied behavior analysis, TAGteach. Perhaps there is a career in the latter; I will be attending my second training workshop next month.