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 I’m First-Generation American. The significance of that here is that often and indeed in my situation, immigrant parents are obsessed with making a better life for their kids . . . which translates into "make more money, get more respect, and do it through education." Yes, you guessed it . . . I’m a "My Son the Doctor" kid. That was the expectation conveyed from the beginning.
Now, I’ll allow that on the surface at least, this was coming from a caring place. They made their way without the benefit of institutionalized education . . . working hard and long in the restaurant business. So initially, I went along with the program. The first tangible expression of this script was in grade school, when they dressed me in scrubs for a "What Do You Want to be When You Grow Up?" event. I got into a "smart kid" high school, which was more like a junior college in a curriculum oriented towards pre-med; then on to college. I lived at home, of course, because that was how it was done . . . and worked in the restaurant weekends, holidays and summer vacations starting at age five. I was a "little adult," adapting to expectations.
My transition started in the beginning of my Junior Year as an Undergrad. That’s when a major area of study was to be declared. Well, I rebelled . . . albeit a very half-assed rebellion at best. I took myself to another nearby urban university and enrolled as a Pre-Dental student. I was not going to be a physician; I was going to be a Dentist . . . so there!
One of the values of timely rebellion is that it disrupts the status quo sometimes just enough for real change to occur. As I was walking up the steps of the Dental school building, I literally stopped mid-stride, exclaiming out loud to myself, "What in the hell am I doing?!" . . . whereupon I turned, walked to my little car, drove back to my previous university and declared my major in Psychology.
That’s when the fun began! Admittedly, part of what was so seductive about psychology was that it provided me with a framework within which I could ostensibly begin to answer questions about myself and my family. In fact, I got so many answers that I realized I didn’t have any! So, mightily armed with nothing, I entered Grad School. Actually, I took off for a year beforehand to travel overseas, work and contemplate my navel . . .
and my next step.
During that time it became clear to me that I was going to become a Psychotherapist . . . the question was simply what route to take. When I started my MSW Grad Program at the University of Michigan, it was with the intention of earning a license to practice via the most expedient academic route. It was clear to me by then that PEOPLE were my books and after getting my ticket to ride I would create my own four-year post-degree program and then begin private practice, which is exactly what I did.
I was blessed from day one . . . I was provided with a "library" of people to learn from that I couldn’t have improved upon even if I knew what I was doing. It started with my supervisor at Jewish Family Service in Detroit the first year, and Chicago the next... two women who epitomized the essence of genuine feminism . . . intelligent, wise, potent and nurturing. Concurrently, I indulged in my first three years of personal psychotherapy, initially with a classical psychoanalyst and then a psychoanalytically-oriented psychotherapist, both really good guys who provided me with the opportunity to appreciate the value of thinking that way while realizing it wasn’t the way I wanted to interact . . . a beginning seed in my developing Natural Process Psychotherapy TM.
It was in the midst of my two years on the staff of a private psychiatric hospital outside of Chicago that my next level of evolvement began. This was a great place for me to be while I was there . . . especially when I realized early on that the hospital brass was totally Meshuga . . . so much so that I was given extraordinary latitude to create something from nothing without knowing much of anything! So who would I learn from? The patients, of course!
One of my seemingly intuitive skills that I realized back in the restaurant days is my ability to find even the tiniest window of connectedness with a vast cross-section of people. About this time, I was introduced to some bodies of knowledge that really did it for me. I quickly found a mentor from whom I could learn more of this new to me stuff. Then to the hospital brass I went . . . "Send me to California for a Summer Sabbatical and I will return with value you can’t imagine!" So, of course they imagined it . . . and sent me!
For that summer I learned from the masters, including my primary mentors, Mary and Bob Goulding (with whom I lived), and the original people in their areas of expertise . . . Fritz Perls, Eric Berne, Jim Simkin, Joan Fagon, Irma Lee Shepard, Virginia Satir and more! My closest experience to the rhythm and intensity of that summer were the rush-hour times in one of our restaurants, when two of us could cook for a hundred people, all ordering within an hour! There was an identifiable moment in time towards the end of that magical summer that I genuinely owned my potency and the path I was creating. (I was honored by being invited to be Bob and Mary’s first associate . . . an invitation I accepted about a year later).
Back to Chicago . . . take some time to "deliver the goods" to the hospital as promised . . . and finally, my first year of private practice before moving to San Francisco.
A couple of years later, while enjoying what are now the "earlier years" of my success and infamy, my doctorate emerged as a by-product of my practice. I realized that I did become "My Son the Doctor" . . . my way!
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