My Computer My Therapist
Title
My Computer My Therapist
Identifier
MY_COMPUTER_MY_THERAPIST
Creator
Jacob Schlitt
Description
"I have never had any luck with psychotherapists. When things were going bad at home, in DC, I found a therapist, and he turned out to be a jerk."
Date
2015-04-10
Format
application/pdf
Type
text
Language
en
Text
MY COMPUTER MY THERAPIST
I have never had any luck with psychotherapists. When things were going bad at home, in DC, I found a therapist, and he turned out to be a jerk. I found another. He wasn’t a jerk, but after a lot of sessions, I did not feel I was making progress, and ended the sessions. After a few years, we ended the marriage. When things were going bad at home, in Boston, I found a highly recommended psychiatrist, and had the same experience as with the second guy. A lot of talking, no insights, no answers. Most recently, I found a clinical social worker (like Fran). Same as the rest. Must be me. (When things were troubling me in New York, I would call my friend Bob. He would listen, and I would feel better.)
These days, I find when I sit down at the computer and unburden myself, I really do feel better. In fact, when I am feeling tired, and start typing, the tiredness goes away. I become more alert, mentally and physically. Is it psychological? I find it better than a work-out at a gym. Of course it isn’t. I know that sitting at the computer is not good for my legs and back, so after a half hour, I get up from the computer, walk around, have a glass of water or a piece of fruit, and return to the computer.
I have come to believe that writing my story is therapeutic, but the real winner is writing about disputes I may have had with Fran. Arguments tend to start from nothing. But once they get going, they escalate, we both become angry, and stop speaking to each other. It is then that I might go to my computer and try to explain to it what just happened. My computer absorbs my version of the encounter, and in effect asks me to describe it in greater detail. I comply, and provide background. I try to honestly present Fran’s arguments and my arguments. Where she is coming from, and where I am coming from. I try to remember if we had had similar disagreements, and how they originated. Sometimes I see a pattern. Then I may stop typing and begin thinking. If a half hour has passed, I would most likely get up from my computer (as noted above) and when I return, I would read what I wrote, think about it, and write some more.
My computer never says to me that our time is up. It never asks me inane questions. It never looks bored or impatient. It just sits on my desk, its keyboard welcoming my typing. If I make a typing mistake, it usually lets me know. It is non-judgmental. And it never forgets what I told it. Sometimes I forget where it stored our previous visits, but I know it is there somewhere, and if I want to retrieve it, I am sure I can.
I do not share these visits with anyone, and I know I can count on my computer not to reveal what I shared with it. Unfortunately, I am not as dependable as my computer. Some time ago, I really unloaded about Fran. When our session ended, I felt much better. I decided to print out our session. When I read it over, I noticed several typos, and a few thoughts which I felt needed to be reworked. I took the pages and placed it on my pile of paper to be recycled. A few weeks later, a friend of Fran’s came to visit with her granddaughter. To keep her granddaughter amused, I found some colored pencils and grabbed some sheets of paper from my recycle pile on which to draw. You guessed it. Fran’s friend happened to read what I had written. Being Fran’s friend, she shared it with Fran, leading to several more days of anger.
Currently, Fran has two therapists. I have one computer. My guess is that I spend more time with my one computer, venting by typing, than Fran does with her two therapists, venting by talking. And my guess is, that as I think and type, I am able to get as a good a picture of “the problem” as Fran may. As I try to understand her point of view, and communicate it to my computer, the problem becomes less of a problem. Then I start to think and type about ways we can solve “the problem.” When I finish, I give the session a title, save it to my desktop, stand up, stretch, say “thank you, and until the next time,” to my computer, and walk away from my desk feeling a hell of a lot better.
Unfortunately, Fran will have to wait until she sees one of her therapists. For now, I am afraid she may still be angry.
4-10-15
I have never had any luck with psychotherapists. When things were going bad at home, in DC, I found a therapist, and he turned out to be a jerk. I found another. He wasn’t a jerk, but after a lot of sessions, I did not feel I was making progress, and ended the sessions. After a few years, we ended the marriage. When things were going bad at home, in Boston, I found a highly recommended psychiatrist, and had the same experience as with the second guy. A lot of talking, no insights, no answers. Most recently, I found a clinical social worker (like Fran). Same as the rest. Must be me. (When things were troubling me in New York, I would call my friend Bob. He would listen, and I would feel better.)
These days, I find when I sit down at the computer and unburden myself, I really do feel better. In fact, when I am feeling tired, and start typing, the tiredness goes away. I become more alert, mentally and physically. Is it psychological? I find it better than a work-out at a gym. Of course it isn’t. I know that sitting at the computer is not good for my legs and back, so after a half hour, I get up from the computer, walk around, have a glass of water or a piece of fruit, and return to the computer.
I have come to believe that writing my story is therapeutic, but the real winner is writing about disputes I may have had with Fran. Arguments tend to start from nothing. But once they get going, they escalate, we both become angry, and stop speaking to each other. It is then that I might go to my computer and try to explain to it what just happened. My computer absorbs my version of the encounter, and in effect asks me to describe it in greater detail. I comply, and provide background. I try to honestly present Fran’s arguments and my arguments. Where she is coming from, and where I am coming from. I try to remember if we had had similar disagreements, and how they originated. Sometimes I see a pattern. Then I may stop typing and begin thinking. If a half hour has passed, I would most likely get up from my computer (as noted above) and when I return, I would read what I wrote, think about it, and write some more.
My computer never says to me that our time is up. It never asks me inane questions. It never looks bored or impatient. It just sits on my desk, its keyboard welcoming my typing. If I make a typing mistake, it usually lets me know. It is non-judgmental. And it never forgets what I told it. Sometimes I forget where it stored our previous visits, but I know it is there somewhere, and if I want to retrieve it, I am sure I can.
I do not share these visits with anyone, and I know I can count on my computer not to reveal what I shared with it. Unfortunately, I am not as dependable as my computer. Some time ago, I really unloaded about Fran. When our session ended, I felt much better. I decided to print out our session. When I read it over, I noticed several typos, and a few thoughts which I felt needed to be reworked. I took the pages and placed it on my pile of paper to be recycled. A few weeks later, a friend of Fran’s came to visit with her granddaughter. To keep her granddaughter amused, I found some colored pencils and grabbed some sheets of paper from my recycle pile on which to draw. You guessed it. Fran’s friend happened to read what I had written. Being Fran’s friend, she shared it with Fran, leading to several more days of anger.
Currently, Fran has two therapists. I have one computer. My guess is that I spend more time with my one computer, venting by typing, than Fran does with her two therapists, venting by talking. And my guess is, that as I think and type, I am able to get as a good a picture of “the problem” as Fran may. As I try to understand her point of view, and communicate it to my computer, the problem becomes less of a problem. Then I start to think and type about ways we can solve “the problem.” When I finish, I give the session a title, save it to my desktop, stand up, stretch, say “thank you, and until the next time,” to my computer, and walk away from my desk feeling a hell of a lot better.
Unfortunately, Fran will have to wait until she sees one of her therapists. For now, I am afraid she may still be angry.
4-10-15
Original Format
application/msword
Collection
Citation
Jacob Schlitt, “My Computer My Therapist,” Autobiographical stories & other writing by Jacob Schlitt, accessed April 23, 2025, https://tsirlson.omeka.net/items/show/338.