“My name is Erica, Erica Lambe, you may remember me from the talk you gave on interpersonal skills in dialectical behavioural therapies?” Erica was shorter that Stephen, approximately five-foot, big beaming brown eyes and pearl white teeth that were hard to miss with a smile that filled the room. She spoke with deliberate eloquence, something Stephen had come to appreciate from those who came from places where English was not their first language. Her accent was rich in warmth and depth. If he had been a betting man, he would have guessed India or Pakistan but certainly she grew up with British ancestry with a last name like Lambe. Stephen rose slightly from his seat and extended a hand towards the chair opposite him, offering it as part of a half attempt at dated manners. “It is just Stephen actually…” he corrected her, “…I decided against a doctorate early into my university days, academia is a business sadly and I could not afford to put my life on hold when I wanted to get out into the world and practice”. He sat back down into his seat as she pulled her chair out and joined him. “Was there something specific I could help you with Erica?” he paused and added awkwardly “I am glad you remembered the talk, that must have meant you found it useful, but unfortunately I won’t pretend I remember you, nothing against you, I just try not to actively attach to people if I can help it”.
“Sure, sure, transference and countertransference and the whole bias getting in the way of helping someone, I figured” She recited calmly, maintaining that brilliant smile. Stephen was a bit taken aback, he had not expected such terminology from his own discourse to be employed, but he relaxed in the thought that these were common enough terms too and easy to look for if you had an interest. “Well, I was wondering Stephen if I could actually pick your mind on something, it is work related but like not for me, if that would be, okay?” Stephen sighed and folded his arms defensively, “This isn’t going to be a hypothetical scenario that a friend is going through is it, because it has been a long day”
“No, no, no…” she interrupted “…I would not wish to disrespect your personal time like that, it is just that people only get to see you when you are working with them, so I did not want to take time away from people who needed your support with this question”
“Go ahead then” he acknowledged with a hint of reluctance, his arms remained folded as though reminding Erica that while she was welcome to talk, there was a clear boundary that Stephen was not about to allow her to cross with him.
“I was wondering if you knew if any training could be provided during this voyage? I did study psychology but…” she rolled her eyes with a hint of disappointment and shame “…my parents thought I would do better working in Human Resources and Administration positions, psychologists to them do not get paid well you see and…” At this point Stephen nodded and shifted forward lowering his arms “…and they cannot brag to their friends about how successful you are because money means status for them”
Erica nodded and with a sympathetic sigh slid back into her chair, validated but hurt. “It is pretty shit when people try to tell you who you should and should not be, I get you with this actually” Stephen smiled reassuringly “My mam, eh, mother I mean, would have preferred me to continue with a job in finance like my siblings, she actually thinks psychology is borderline witchcraft, and even to this day believes in the Church and all its flawed teachings”.
“Oh, is she some sort of Christian?” Erica asked curiously. “Old school Roman Catholic, think Irish matriarch stereotype.” His expression softened and he smiled at Erica “…and it is okay to stereotype in this context, I learned a long time ago that stereotypes are wrong to make but exist for a reason, and she is a walking stereotype”. Rather than laughter, an understood silence fell between them, they were both in the waiting room of life with similar maladies. “Why did you want to study psychology?” Stephen eventually asked. “Oh, well I just liked the idea of studying why people are the way they are, I grew up around people who acted like they were in control and others who had like really poor perceptions of themselves and of others around them like me. Why did you get into psychology?”
Stephen thought about how to answer this question for a moment, he thought about giving a clever answer, something defensive and vague but something inside him compelled him to try something a bit more honest. “Power, not power over others…” he clarified, before Erica could jump in “…more so I was around people studying sociology who all thought they could change the world and everyone was shit who did not follow them or see the world as they did, I wanted something that felt comfortable and could not be immediately assailed by those who put down others due to their own insecurities…if that makes sense?”
“It, certainly is different from the usual reasons people have, what brought you here though?”
Stephen waved both his arms around “the glamour and comfort obviously” he smirked jokingly. He could see she was waiting for a more earnest answer, “it seemed like a cool adventure to embark upon, but more importantly it got me away from the politics of our vocation, onto the frontier where we could have more autonomy and less second guessing”
“Was politics really an issue? You practiced in Ireland, right?” Erica continued inquisitively. “Yeah, like I used to work as part of a medical practice and don’t get me wrong the doctors and nurses were lovely, but the other therapists were constantly looking down upon each other, thinking they were better than each other and they had no issue bad mouthing each other to me given I was just the trainee at the time”. Stephen had not noticed the frustration that had been building and continued. “We were there for the patients and what none of those sycophants could seem to grasp was that they could be the best in the world at their chosen approach, but that it meant diddly fucking squat if it was not actually helping anyone. They just had attitudes and opinions that made me feel terrible as a therapist, so yeah, a chance to get away from everything and write my own story as a therapist with people who want to be here, for a goal that seemed worthwhile, or at least more worthwhile than what I was doing.”
“An escape?” Erica offered. “Yeah, actually, an escape would be a brilliant way of looking at it, didn’t look at it like that before” Stephen looks up and a smile replaces the tension on his face. “I’m guessing escape is a concept familiar to you too?”
Erica nodded “I studied psychology against my parents wishes but got my parents around to the mindset that having such a degree would give me an advantage over other administrators or human resources workers, so they reluctantly agreed but what I did not anticipate was how much more demanding of results they would become, especially with them knowing nothing about psychology so like they just assumed I could and would manipulate the people around me and reach the top of a career ladder in a year.” She waves her own arms around “as you can see, I succeeded and they are totally proud of me which is why I am tens of thousands of kilometres away from them, but sadly performing resource administration and human orientations for my shift. Stephen rubs his hands on his legs, shift his gaze away for a moment and then back to Erica, clasping his hands and placing them together on the table, as though he was entering into a pseudo-serious performance to lend importance of Erica’s original request.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Honestly, I’ve no idea what the changing needs of the crew are yet so it is hard to kind of say whether we need another therapist yet…” He could see the disappointment entering Erica’s expression “however…” he continued “we have no idea what changes and needs await us on the next two years and on Ceres and there is no research at present on training someone directly on counselling support in this present scenario so what I am saying is…leave it with me and I will see what we can do resource wise. If you are confident, you will have the time to practice and study then I think we can give this some serious consideration, we could look into some shadow work if some of my patients or Andy’s patients would consent, I’ll also have to talk to Andy of course and get him on board too”. Erica nods and pushes back her seat, signalling to leave. “Thank you for considering this, Stephen, I really do appreciate it, you have no idea how mundane my job is, especially when part of me is screaming out to be working in what I am actually interested in”. She turns to leave the communal area “Enjoy the rest of your evening” she calls out. Stephen nods and waves and returns to burying his head into his notes for the day.
***
Stephen eventually gave up on his continuing pile of clinical notes and made his way back to his quarters. He had not returned here since he had left that morning and upon entering was greeted with the chaos he had left behind. The ships ventilation system had done its best to clear the heavy coffee smell, but it could not make his bunk or tidy away used dishes. As he began to clear away and tried to bring order his terminal lit up and Betty appeared as a floating avatar on the screen. “Good evening, Stephen, according to your stats you have had a reasonably productive day, would you like to review statistics or areas you could improve upon?”
“No thanks Betty, I am pretty wrecked and need to wind down for the evening, could you play some soothing music for sleep please?”
“Certainly, is there anything else I can help you with this evening?” Betty asked cheerfully.
Stephen yawned and stretched his arms out, elongating his spine to wake up the strained and dormant muscles from a hard day of sitting down. “Betty…” he started with hesitance “…would you pull up Sylvia Johnson’s file from earlier today and begin clinical log”
“Certainly, I do need to remind you that it is past your working hours, and you should be sleeping, if you still wish to proceed, please confirm.”
“Confirmed Betty” Stephen uttered with a tinge of annoyance, “Begin patient log, patient Sylvia Johnson, personal notes…” Stephen sighed and stretched his spine into a twist, as though searching for an elusive crack that would alleviate all tension ever felt in his back. “Patient Sylvia Johnson presented in clear discomfort and notable distress, upon querying this distress it was discovered that they had felt mistreated emotionally by a member of the medical staff in regards to pain felt around their womb and abdomen. Sylvia is of the opinion she has Endometriosis, and while I am unable to confirm or deny such a diagnosis given it is a medical condition outside my remit, the pain she experienced during session was…intense, and she was visibly uncomfortable during the session, not just with the subject matter, I mean physically, rubbing along her abdomen as though as she invoked the words to describe her pain, she was also summoning within a burst of pressure and pointed pain” Stephen paused, rubbing his eyes and grabbing himself a water from the nearby sink unit. “It was…humbling, this person had been invalidated by a male member of the medical team but found the courage to reach out to the mental health service, courage or perhaps desperation given the limited options on this ship. I mean it is not as if she can just change doctors, well, she can but her notes will follow her like a stigma, and it would take a lot to trust a new doctor in such tight confines.”
Stephen straightened up, refocusing his thoughts “Treatment plan, treatment plan…” he started confidently, slipping again into a quagmire of thoughts. “The plan is to let Sylvia continue to access the space so that she at least has somewhere safe she can be visible with the pain. Technically I need to respect her privacy so no escalation on my part to medical services, she is already under their care…” he paused, frustrated by this statement “this belongs to them, but if she needs someone to step in as more than a confidant I can look to support them in this, but I must let them be the one to determine that this is the course of action for them. I must remain their therapist, not their saviour…this is the way of it for the moment”. With that last sentiment he crashed down defeated onto his bunk, shifting some loose notes that were at the end of the bunk. He stared up in desperation, the room was swirling a little and he could feel a surge of energy. Adrenaline through the body, failing to understand he was neither fighting for his life or running for his life, he was not needing to shut down either, but this pain he was accidentally carrying with him, pain that rightly belonged to the person hurt by this lack of compassion, it felt to him like it was touching upon something much deeper in him. A wound he had not healed himself, and this shook Stephen, learning about the parts of you that you cannot see yet, and worrying about whether you can really go to the places the people who come to you need you to go.
Placing his hand on his stomach he closed his eyes and focused on breathing in, allowing his lungs to fill, his diaphragm to shift and push the stomach and the stomach in turn pushing his hand out as it stretched beneath his shirt. This was his panic attack, he thought to himself, his anxiety, but the pain he was carrying belonged to her and for both their sakes he needed her to continue to carry this. For both their sakes he needed to be her space for support and to not allow his upset, or pain compromise his ability to support her. For his sake, and his sins, he needed to dream and allow his mind the time to connect with his memories of pain. As the rhythm softened, Stephen gently fell into a slumber, his shirt ever more creased as he turned, the lights dimming as Betty detected the move towards slumber. A last light and vigil of the passive terminal glowing to a dim, turning to dark and bringing that day to an end.