Shrinkwrapped: My First 50 Years on the Couch - Softcover

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1571431284 ISBN 13: 9781571431288

Publisher: Rdr Books, 2009

Synopsis

Michael Grossman's teachers sent him to see a Freudian psychoanalyst at age 7 -- the first in a parade of therapies that would include Rogerian bear-hugs, Gestalt dream analysis, Rolfing, Bioenergetics and even LSD. Untangling the complex, sometimes abusive family relationships that enmeshed his Midwestern boyhood in the mid-20th century, the author finally uncovers fundamental truths that lead to a profound transformation. By turns funny, poignant and shocking, Shrinkwrapped is a story of hope, of growing insight and ultimately of love reborn.

About this title

About the Author:

edit biographydeleteBiographyI Michael Grossman is the author of three books: Coming to Terms with Aging: the Secret to Meaningful Time, from RDR Books; Shrinkwrapped: my first fifty years on the couch, from RDR books; and his latest book is The Power, a novel.

Shrinkwrapped: My First Fifty Years on the couch chronicles going to psychotherapy in the late forties. Discover the bias against therapy for a boy growing up in a blue-collar Michigan town in an era when corporal punishment was seen as positive parenting and where troubled families rarely sought professional help. The author's teachers sent him to a Freudian psychoanalyst at age 7, the first of a parade of therapies that would include Rogerian bear-hugs, Gestalt dream analysis, Rolfing, Bioenergetics and even LSD.

Untangling the complex, sometimes eccentric and other times abusive family relationships that enmeshed his Midwestern boyhood, the author finally faces fundamental truths that lead to a profound transformation. By turns funny, poignant and shocking, Shrinkwrapped is a story of hope, of growing insight and ultimately of love reborn.

Grossman's newest book and his first fiction is: The Power. The Power is driven by our archetypal curiosity about invisibility-our fly-on-the-wall fascination with it in the tradition of Wells' classic The Invisible Man or seen currently in our wonderment at Harry Potter's magic cloak. In The Power, magic becomes the metaphor that begs the question: how should Edwin and in turn the reader use personal power. When does power degrade and when does it fulfill us? The Power is a vicarious ride that leaves readers feeling more empowered and more deeply aware of our own unique magic.

Grossman has also written numerous newspaper commentaries, consumer and trade
articles on topics ranging from ecology, ethics, travel marketing, flying, and bank marketing to applied ergonomics. A

Born in Muskegon, Michigan, Grossman currently resides in Rhode Island with his wife.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

CHAPTER ONE
Night and Day Differences

The queen, as Mom's friends called her, was about to hold court. She studied the long dining room table attentively, unconsciously twisting the emerald clasp that secured her pearls as she scrutinized the preparations.

"Rosa, you ought to know how to position the centerpiece," Mom said. "Emalda, you may bring the caviar out."

The kitchen door swung open, and Josefina arrived holding polished silver Jensen candlestick holders in her brown outstretched arms. Josefina, our short, barrel-shaped Cuban nanny, had impressive staying power and was the only maid who could successfully handle Mom. She'd been with our family for a record five years--prompting Mom to call her "practically a family fixture."

Wordlessly, mom pointed an accusing finger at a leaning candle, and Josefina immediately righted it. The rapid shake of Mom's head was a "no" to another maid who, realizing her error, shifted each gold china plate so that the engraved "G" was easily read from seated position. Mom raised a thin crystal water goblet and enjoyed the sustained ring as she tapped it. She held it to the light, then checked the other glasses in succession for water stains.

"Be very careful with them, Maria. Do you have any idea how valuable these are?"

In similar fashion, my younger brother Randy, age three, my sister Jill, age six, and I, a nine-year-old, had been scrubbed for display. Before guests arrived, Mom routinely had Josefina put us to bed and we were expected to stay there until summoned. Inevitably an innocent guest, offering perfunctory conversation, asked how the children were, at which point Mom would feign spontaneity, blossom with delight, and beckon Josefina.

"Josefina, do bring the children to say hello to our guest," she instructed.

That was Josefina's cue to hurry up the curved stairway, pumping her heavy knees against her rigidly starched white uniform like a Tour de France cyclist. She would collect us, lead us down the stairs and parade us in crisp pajamas fresh from the shelves of my father's department store. Guests would greet us with labored smiles, tap our heads, pretend to be thrilled and remark with flat outstretched hands that they'd known us since we were this tall--a comment of equal disinterest to us and the adults. Mom, also disinterested after a moment, signaled Josefina to put us away.

At age nine, I dared break protocol one day by refusing to leave on cue. I made my stand at an afternoon tea party when the sun was high in the western Michigan sky. The usual guests mingled, chatted and obediently admired the three of us kids. But like a freshly popped seltzer bottle, I was fizzing with energy, and I felt that going back to bed was just not acceptable.

"It's early. Why do I have to go to now?" I asked Mom. "Can't I play outside?"

Mother's face darkened, but since several amused guests had turned to watch, she forced a brittle smile.

"Because it's bedtime dear," she said in a razor sweet voice. "And we go to bed at night."

"How can it be night? Look, Mom," I said pulling away from Josefina and going to the window. I pointed to the brilliant midafternoon sun. "It's light out."

Her smile dropped.

"It's-night-time-if-I-say-it's-night-time," she said tapping her foot to each word.

Josefina reclaimed my arm and began pulling me up the stairs, Jill and Randy also in tow.

"But Josefina," I said again pointing to the window. "There's the sun. It's light out."

Josefina continued to march me up the stairs.

"Well isn't it?"

Mom stood scowling at the base of the stairs.

"Well isn't it?" I asked Josefina again.

Josefina said nothing.

"Jill, isn't it light out?" I said turning to my sister.

Jill looked bewildered.

"Josefina?"

Josefina said nothing.

I continued climbing, but tentatively now, less certain the stairs were there to support me. Maybe my eyes aren't seeing right, I thought, but it sure looks light out. Yet Mom and Josefina say it definitely isn't.

Whispering in my ear in her heavy Cuban accent, Josefina said, "La Señora she say you go to bed. So you go. Be good boy."

"But Josefina, I tell you it is daytime," I tested a final time.

Josefina raised my covers, and I climbed into bed. Mom wouldn't lie. So it had to be me.

I lay in bed as the sun arched in its afternoon descent. A shrinking path of light spread across my blanket. I watched the pattern fade until there was no question the sky was black, rendering the issue moot.

As the memory of that afternoon dissolved, I looked up at Dr. Bowen, my therapist of two years. More than anyone, he would understand this latest recollection of Mom's mind-warp tactics.

"So once again Dr. Bowen," I said, "she played with our heads. Both she and Dad did. If a manipulation offered some slight convenience, she didn't care what it did to us. But I can tell you for a nine-year-old, it was pretty confusing."

Dr. Bowen, always sympathetic, set down his session notes and looked at me warmly over his tortoise shell half-glasses.

"This is good, Michael. It's important. Do you see how this fits with your hesitancy to trust? Very useful. Think about it, and let's pick up right here next Friday . . ."

Dr. Bowen rose from his desk and placed his hand on my shoulder, smiling.

I thanked him and left his office.

Knowing how fast a session can fade, how quickly my habit to repress could banish what I'd learned. I replayed the memory until the elevator opened at the lobby floor. The sun was streaming when I exited his building. At least I think it was.

About this edition

• Publisher: Rdr Books
• Publication date: 2009
• ISBN 10: 1571431284
• ISBN 13: 9781571431288
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 267
• Editor: Grossman I. Michael