July 15, 1986
I'm going to have to take on some more patients in order to support my relationship with Maris. My savings account is depleting at an amazing rate. In the evenings, I've been working especially hard on my research on gestalt therapy. If I can manage a groundbreaking article on that fascinating topic, I'll be able to raise my rates considerably. I don't feel that I can raise them in all conscience until I'm better- established.
I'm somewhat envious of Frasier, who's apparently doing so well for himself in Boston. He never calls home; he seems to want to forget that he has any relatives. It does hurt. We were so close as boys. I miss his constant presence. I often resented his endless advice and near-management of my life, but I will admit that he is quite insightful. Perhaps he could help me with my conflicts over my relationship with Maris...
But then, Frasier's interpretations were always rather - well, not simple, but too dependent on - what I want to say is common sense. That doesn't sound right. But I do feel, as a psychiatrist, that the most obvious, "common-sensical" answers are not always the right ones. He would dismiss Maris as worthless in a few sentences. I feel that there's something there, something Frasier would miss. Something most of the world would miss. Something that perhaps only I can see...
I'm talking as if I'm in love with the woman, aren't I? Perhaps I am. As I said, I've never really understood what passion and romantic love are all about. It seems to be a rather indescribable thing. Certainly Maris and I aren't exactly Romeo and Juliet. But something in me calls out to her, or something in her calls out to me. We - the best way I can think to put it is that we fit one another. She needs me, that's obvious. She's confided in me that she doesn't like being alone. I suppose it is lonely in that Brobdingnagian estate (I learned early on that she doesn't interact with the servants on a personal level at all.) It's impossible to ignore the fact that she's somewhat demanding - but isn't that, in its own way, an expression of love? In making endless demands of me, she's saying "I need you." I believe that that is a form of love.
As for me... do I need her?
That's a harder question to answer. I - you know, being a psychiatrist by trade requires enough psychological analysis during the day. Must I spend my nights analyzing myself?
She needs me. I need a woman. Why am I making this so hard? The answer is obvious.
I'm going to have to take on some more patients in order to support my relationship with Maris. My savings account is depleting at an amazing rate. In the evenings, I've been working especially hard on my research on gestalt therapy. If I can manage a groundbreaking article on that fascinating topic, I'll be able to raise my rates considerably. I don't feel that I can raise them in all conscience until I'm better- established.
I'm somewhat envious of Frasier, who's apparently doing so well for himself in Boston. He never calls home; he seems to want to forget that he has any relatives. It does hurt. We were so close as boys. I miss his constant presence. I often resented his endless advice and near-management of my life, but I will admit that he is quite insightful. Perhaps he could help me with my conflicts over my relationship with Maris...
But then, Frasier's interpretations were always rather - well, not simple, but too dependent on - what I want to say is common sense. That doesn't sound right. But I do feel, as a psychiatrist, that the most obvious, "common-sensical" answers are not always the right ones. He would dismiss Maris as worthless in a few sentences. I feel that there's something there, something Frasier would miss. Something most of the world would miss. Something that perhaps only I can see...
I'm talking as if I'm in love with the woman, aren't I? Perhaps I am. As I said, I've never really understood what passion and romantic love are all about. It seems to be a rather indescribable thing. Certainly Maris and I aren't exactly Romeo and Juliet. But something in me calls out to her, or something in her calls out to me. We - the best way I can think to put it is that we fit one another. She needs me, that's obvious. She's confided in me that she doesn't like being alone. I suppose it is lonely in that Brobdingnagian estate (I learned early on that she doesn't interact with the servants on a personal level at all.) It's impossible to ignore the fact that she's somewhat demanding - but isn't that, in its own way, an expression of love? In making endless demands of me, she's saying "I need you." I believe that that is a form of love.
As for me... do I need her?
That's a harder question to answer. I - you know, being a psychiatrist by trade requires enough psychological analysis during the day. Must I spend my nights analyzing myself?
She needs me. I need a woman. Why am I making this so hard? The answer is obvious.