When I became a psychologist, I said to my client: have to clench your teeth firmly, so, as if you didn't have any.
But I didn't become a psychologist, but first a head painter, then teacher and sweetheart from my heads, then runner and athlete. Then even a psychiatric case. And finally, Clochard.
At the checkout in the supermarket I took a gallant step back and let my clients step forward, I said: You are welcome! With a sonorous voice, sometimes courteous,
sometimes smiling, sometimes neutral. Competently!
Always ready, that they poured out their hearts to me at one of my gestures, every moment!
This never happened, not even once, maybe, because I didn't look like a psychologist after all, but one resembled, who fills her sacks with food, at the end of the conveyor belt.
Somebody once told me, I would have become a good psychologist. But by then I was already Clochard, homeless then, and mostly internally and externally unbathed.
My sympathy for people was just as pronounced, that I always walked through the city with an open eye,after all. Stopped in the middle, and some like to be spicy, friendly, callous, advised with a lot of passion and commitment. Wherein?
(3.6.2020)