Hope, as we have learned during The Great Recession, can be a dangerous drug. We who hoped for things to return to normal, our fantastic earning power to be restored, and our 401Ks to bulk up again were only held back, well, on even earning a living. When we surrendered that hope, yeah, our professional lives started taking shape again. Well, good-bye to all that hope for this Jersey City Kid. [Here is a complimentary copy of how the mean streets of Hudson County, New Jersey can boost emotional intelligence exponentially Download CUsersjasneDocumentsjg.]
Human events are cyclical. There was also a time of great hope in the early 1970s. The elite took to the hocus-pocus of psychology. We truly hoped that via the mystical rites of therapist-patient [that's what we proudly referred to ourselves then] interaction, we could become whole. Our self-defeating ways and indeed our very challenges in life would vanish. We would float around, as in the womb, in extreme self-awareness. The big mess of a personality I was would be reconfigured into Betty Anderson from "Father Knows Best."
A sucker for mysticism, I plugged into all that at the University of Michigan's Psychology Clinic, where they trained the Psychology Department's clinical graduate students, and the Neurospsychiatric Institute, where they housed the best and brightest psychologists, psychiatrists, and psychiatric social workers. I burned brightly with hope. My shaman for three years was David W. Harder. He is now Dr. David W. Harder, a full professor at Tufts University.
Could those three years have lifted me out of my self-destructive ways, partly embedded by the Eastern European genes on one side of the family? Maybe. If I had my expectations significantly lower. Actually, since I have embraced Buddhism, I have a hunch that having no expectations is the way to go, and simply observe what seems to be fruitful and what probably is a dead end.
Whatever. That was a long time ago and managed care has forced the entire mental-health continuum to accountability for results. Anyway, I don't hope. No way, Jose. Maybe it's hard-won self-assurance. I am out there experimenting, failing, succeeding, failing, and learning plenty about the new economy.
Out of this leap out of mysticism, I got myself my first novel. After co-authoring one full-length print nonfiction book and producing four nonfiction e-books, I created "The Fat Guy From Greenwich." Its message is not one of hope. You can find it at Amazon.com and other online book stores early this winter. Here is a free peek into the first chapter Download FatGuyFromGreenwich.