To Quench Our Love Pt. 02

"I mean, I can listen or whatever, but I'm not a psychiatrist and I'm not actually licensed to give psychotherapy either. But I do know a bit about antidepressants."

"That's fine, I think Heather just needs someone to tell her whether it's a good idea."

"Well she needs to do that, then a psychiatrist needs to agree."

"Yeah, Heather doesn't do too well with coming to conclusions."

"Well I'm not saying she needs them, but a lot of people who need antidepressants can't make a decision about whether they want to take antidepressants."

"So yes, load her up."

She laughed but said, "We shouldn't be joking about this, but maybe. Is she getting therapy?"

"No."

"She should start there. Antidepressants don't fix your problems, they just kind of make the reactions more manageable. You need therapy to really work through what's going on."

"She's from Texas, I don't know how that would go over."

"Texans get therapy too. Even our hometown had a few mental health offices."

"Yeah for the methheads to complete their parole."

"Be nice, we have a lot of problems and people are doing their best."

"OK, but I'm the one who has to go home and tell a Texan to tell a stranger how she feels." I was trying to joke but it wasn't coming off joke-like, and perhaps I was hitting too close to Polly's turf.

"Look, I know it's weird. Honestly, when I tried therapy for the first time after I moved home, I hated it. She couldn't bring my dad back, she wouldn't tell me what to do, and the only thing that was making me feel better was the passage of time. But when I started grad school, and started seeing how similar being a guidance counselor was to giving therapy, I went back then it really worked. So I think she should think about it. I can have that conversation with her if you want."

"Hmm, I don't know about having you do it but I'll suggest it."

"OK, but I recommend therapy a lot and I have that conversation with a lot of reluctant parents. It might help."

"See the thing is, I think Heather thinks you hate her."

"Well offer it to her. I can come over, she can meet me for coffee, whatever."

I thought for a moment. "What if we had you over after dinner tomorrow for a drink?"

"Heather won't mind that you didn't ask first?"

"She will, but we can just do it as friends if she doesn't want to talk therapy."

"Then I guess I'll see you tomorrow."

I told her I was looking forward to it and we said our goodbyes. Heather was less upset about talking about therapy as she was about the fact that I had invited someone over when the house was a mess. Which meant that evening was spent trying to clean with a lot of tension between me and Heather. Cleaning was never an easy process for us: Heather had so much stuff and would snap at me whenever I put stuff in the wrong place, even though most of the stuff had no well-defined right place. When Heather would loudly complain that I didn't do enough, I would always silently complain that only a tiny portion of the mess belonged to me, though rarely did I say anything. Only when we were really fighting, which didn't happen that night. So we went to bed pretty upset with each other, but by the time she got home Wednesday, Heather had decided that finishing cleaning was too much work and she was too tired. Ironically, I came home all motivated to clean everything without Heather's help, just to show her up about the allegations of me not doing anything and being helpless (with regards to cleaning her stuff), but with Heather suddenly not caring, I wasn't going to give myself more work.

Polly arrived at seven on the dot, still timely as ever. I opened the door for her and she gave me a hug, then she saw Heather walking to greet her and asked, "Are we there yet for hugging?"

Heather said she didn't know but that was OK and offered her arms for a hug. They were much quicker than Polly and I were. When they broke, Heather said, "Jack wouldn't tell me what you like except juice, so I didn't prepare anything."

"That's fine," Polly said. "I could go for some ice cream."

I made a face behind her and Heather said, "We don't have any and Jack is over there looking like he messed up."

Polly twirled and asked, "John Deblose without ice cream?"

"Times change," I said with a shrug.

"Clearly," said Heather. "I had no idea you used to be an ice cream nut."

"Nut's a strong word," I said, "but let's go to the dining room and I can find something else." Heather turned and Polly followed. "I think I got that blueberry stuff you like Polly, label's different though. And we have random liquor if you want a drink-drink."

"You know I don't drink much. Hit me with the Odwalla," Polly answered.

"Same," said Heather. "Although I didn't realize you had hooked me on another woman's juice," she added as I stepped into the kitchen.

They sat at the table and I went to get three glasses and the juice bottle. I noted that Heather was sitting where Polly had sat that first time she came over, and Polly was sitting where I had sat. Heather and I didn't use the table enough to have regular seats; we usually ate at the TV. Polly teased there could be no loyalties when it came to good juice, and the two of them filled the time without me talking about juice. When I sat down again, Heather got to the point. "So Jack tells me you think I should get therapy," she said.

"Well not like that," Polly answered, "but if you're thinking about antidepressants, you should do therapy either first or at the same time."

"But how do I know if I need antidepressants?" Heather asked.

"You don't," Polly said bluntly. "But if you're having trouble managing emotions, they'll help a lot. And if you're unsure, therapy can help you figure that out."

"So you really think I should go to therapy."

"Not necessarily. But if you go in with the right mindset, and have some understanding of the process, it will be the best thing. But if you're doing it because someone told you to, the results are going to take a long time."

"I feel like that's a non-answer," Heather said.

"Well that's therapy," Polly said, putting her hands out with a smile. "Like I told Jack, I hated therapy at first in part because of that. They don't fix you or tell you what to do. That's why you have to know about the process and stuff."

Heather looked pensive and I had nothing to say, so Polly continued. "I mean, here's how it's going to go. You'll go to your first meeting, they'll ask you a ton of questions, then your next meeting they might finish those questions or have a follow-up or two, but by the third meeting, they're just going to sit there and let you start the show. At least most people. So if you don't know the process, you're not going to know what to say. And then when they give you non-answers and broad thoughts, you're not going to know what to do with that. So here's a real answer. Do some research on the therapy process, find a therapist, start going. You can work with them on whether to get antidepressants. But the therapist and psychiatrist won't tell you what's going on, and if you don't know it won't work. It didn't for me."

"I guess that makes sense," Heather replied. "I guess my real question is if you didn't like therapy, why did you become a guidance counselor?"

"I thought it was like helping kids pick classes and making good decisions. I didn't realize how close it was. But I'm glad I did, it's one of the best decisions I've made."

"I thought you can't give therapy, though," I asked, recalling our conversation from the previous day.

"No, but mental health is part of the job and I can have up to eight mental health meetings with a student per school year before I have to refer them out."

"Do you do that a lot?" Heather asked.

"Unfortunately. A lot of my students come from unstable backgrounds."

"So how do you..." I started to ask. Polly caught on though.

"Refer them out? It's hard. If their parents aren't totally resistant, a lot don't have money or insurance. We need a social worker or psychologist or something, but instead it's just me."

We were quiet for a moment, and I let the realities of Polly's job sink in. Teaching science she had always seemed so optimistic and like she had had a small victory every day. I decided to ask. "You always seemed so hopeful when you were a science teacher."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"Like you always thought you were making a difference. And now you're telling me you need a social worker."

"I mean, I definitely still think I make a difference. I think I'm more aware of reality. Like when we were dating," I tensed at such a direct mention in front of Heather, scared to look and see if she had one, "I was basically living in a Tower of Babel. Nothing was impossible for me, so my life had to be scrambled."

"Isn't the Tower of Babel the language story?" Heather asked.

"I heard you were from Texas," Polly said with one of her teasing looks, "but I don't hear an accent and you don't seem to know that Bible story."

"I'm from Austin, it's hardly Texas," Heather said, her standard reply. Her mom wasn't from Texas either, so she didn't have much Texas stereotype in her.

"It is the language story," I jumped in lest Heather think Polly was being critical. "Polly just likes to tease."

Heather gave me a look as if she was about to tease me for telling her that my ex is a tease, but Polly spoke first. "Basically, the tower they build is so amazing that their languages get mixed up because the tower was too amazing. And I kind of see that in my former life, everything seemed perfect and so my dad dies and I snap at a student and from there basically had a breakdown."

"Your breakdown started before you snapped at that student," I pointed out.

"In some ways," she answered, "but I was already doubting my calling as a science teacher. And at the time I thought that incident confirmed my doubts."

I wanted to ask her why she never told me she was doubting her profession, but before I could say something so stupid in front of my current girlfriend, Heather reverted the subject. "I still can't get over comparing a breakdown to the language story," she said.

"Jack got me into Jewish philosophy," Polly answered. "I don't take the stories so literally."

"I did?" I asked.

"Kind of."

"I feel like I need to hear this," Heather said with suspicion, leaning towards Polly but looking straight into my eyes. She rapped her fingernails on the table as she finished her sentence.

"It's not a big deal but am I stepping into something here?" Polly kept the jovial tone in her voice as her eyes darted from me to Heather.

"No, I want to know too," I said. "But if you see me in the newspaper tomorrow, you know what happened."

"Alright then," Polly said. "Jack had once told me his idea about how every culture has its own take on philosophy. The prominence of 'Western' philosophy, which is really Greek philosophy, comes from their emphasis on reason, which in turn led to science and accelerated technology in southern Europe. But there's nothing inherently better or worse about reason than what other cultures sought, for example wisdom in the Middle East, or interconnectedness with nature in North America. Has he told you about this?"

"Don't think so," said Heather, "but he's somewhat more boring than you when talking about philosophy."

"Oh thanks," I sarcastically replied.

"Don't worry, my boyfriend won't listen to my philosophy either," Polly told me.

"I have told her this," I said to Polly.

"Yeah but let her finish," Heather said. "It obviously didn't stick from you."

Polly continued, "OK, so anyway, during my first stint in therapy, my therapist recommended something called mindfulness. But the way she showed it, I couldn't figure out how it was any different from breathing exercises and meditation. So I researched on my own and found it's basically a Buddhist practice stripped of the religion. And I also found that the effects on the brain are pretty much the same between meditation and prayer. So I was like, 'Why do we have to take a Buddhist practice for something that's in pretty much every culture?' And my dad was dead and I wanted to find a way to feel close to him again, and I remembered Jack had told me about Ecclesiastes and since my dad was Jewish thought I'd try reading that. So I did and it was surprisingly comforting, and I started reading more of the Tanakh, and I just loved like Esther and Song of Songs and parts of Job. And Ecclesiastes of course."

"Oh my God, I hated Job," Heather said. "I had to read it in high school, it's so long and the same thing over and over."

"I'm with her on this one, Polly," I agreed.

"'O that my vexation were weighed,'" Polly recited, "'and all my calamity laid in the balances! For then it would be heavier than the sand of the sea.... Does the wild ass bray over its grass, or the ox low over its fodder? Can that which is tasteless be eaten without salt...? My appetite refuses to touch them; they are like food that is loathsome to me.... In truth I have no help in me, and any resource is driven from me.

"'Those who withhold kindness from a friend forsake the fear of the Almighty. But my friends are as undependable as intermittent streams, as the streams that overflow when darkened by thawing ice and swollen with melting snow, but that stop flowing in the dry season, and in the heat vanish from their channels. The caravans turn aside from their course; they go up into the waste, and perish. The caravans of Tema look, the travelers of Sheba hope. They are disappointed because they were confident; they come there and are confounded. Such you have now become to me; you see my calamity, and are afraid....

"'Teach me, and I will be silent; make me understand how I have gone wrong. How forceful are honest words! But your reproof, what does it reprove? Do you think that you can reprove words, as if the speech of the desperate were wind? You would even cast lots over the orphan, and bargain over your friend.

"'But now, be pleased to look at me; for I will not lie to your face. Turn, I pray, let no wrong be done. Turn now, my vindication is at stake.'"

"You memorized all that?" Heather asked. I couldn't have thought of a better response. As interesting as the poem was, having her recite so much with expressions directed straight toward us was a bit uncomfortable.

"I mean, I change it up a little and I don't use the Jewish translations, but yeah. I memorized a few of the poems that helped me. Parts of Job, Song of Songs, Ecclesiastes, Micah."

"I actually liked it," I said.

"Yeah, because Job is too long to take in at once. But the passages alone are amazing."

"Wait, so are you really religious now?" I asked.

"No, I mean that's the great thing about being Jewish. I can be religious and not religious."

"But like, those things are really religious," Heather noted.

"They don't have to be. I mean, the philosophy of Judaism is about how to follow the Torah, and in that sense who or what the higher power is doesn't matter, what matters is that you're doing your best to follow this strict moral code. The higher power might be divine or it might just be society or my heroes or my dad."

"You're not seriously saying you got all of this from me," I commented.

"I mean, it started with you. And it's like, I needed something. And I couldn't get into mindfulness because it just seemed like more fetishizing of Asian culture. Like I love Asian culture, but I hate how we like take Asian practices and co-opt them. It's funny though, because I now recommend mindfulness a lot."

"How'd that about face come?" I asked.

"There's research to back it up, plus it's more than meditation and breathing like my first therapist made it seem. I can't say to a kid, 'Do you know what the Tanakh really says?' but I can say here's this well-researched practice that can help with x, y, and z."

"Even though it's co-opted from Asia?" I asked.

"I mean, I'm not comfortable with that part. It's like you told me years ago, there's nothing better or worse about different cultures' philosophies. But our fetishization of Asian culture is basically a way of saying 'We're better than them, but while we were being great they developed this quaint little thing."

Heather and I stared at each other. She gave a twitch of her head to tell me to say something. "That's pretty, um..."

Polly interrupted. "No it's fine, people don't get it when I say this. But like the colonialism when we talk their religion and philosophy is too much. White people do it with every culture."

"I guess I can buy that," I said.

"Wait, but some people just like Asian culture," Heather said. "I mean there's nothing wrong with that."

"No," Polly answered, "but listen more carefully. It's so colonial. I should know, my boyfriend's always talking about how great Buddhism and meditation are. And frankly, he doesn't know shit about either."

"Oh, now we're getting to the root of it," I teased.

Heather folded her hands on the table and agreed, "Yes, you've shrunk me now let us shrink you."

Polly laughed but said, "No, nothing to shrink, just normal squabbles. He goes on about Asian stuff, I point out his colonialism, he gets mad at me for calling him racist, I get mad at him for not listening to my logic or seeing himself in the Donna Chang episode of Seinfeld. That's being a couple. C'est la vie."

"I get that," Heather said. "I used to like how smart Jack is about culture and philosophy, but now it just bores me."

"And she makes sure I know it," I added.

"Besides," Heather continued, "maybe he doesn't want another man's philosophy. I should know, having been fed another woman's juice." She jokingly glared at me.

"It's damn good juice," Polly said, tilting her glass toward Heather.

Heather threw back her last gulp and slammed her glass on the table like she had just won a beer chugging contest. "Damn good," she agreed.

"Did you ever read James?" I asked Polly. I had once mentioned to her that James was rooted in Jewish wisdom literature.

"Yeah, I remembered you said it was similar. It was good but it didn't hit home for me like Job and Song of Songs."

"I guess James is better when you're trying to accomplish something," I observed. "Hits home more for a salesperson than a mourning science teacher."

Polly lit up at the suggestion. "Exactly. James is like 'Don't be a business douchebag.' And Job is like for when you feel lost, and Song of Songs is when you're searching for someone."

I continued the idea. "And Psalms is for when you feel everyone's against you. But Ecclesiastes, Ecclesiastes is all the time."

"Gotta get that existentialism in somehow," Polly quipped.

"You guys lost me at James," Heather interjected.

"Forget James," Polly advised. "Song of Songs is where it's at."

"Don't listen to her," I said. "James is awesome."

"I hate hearing about James," Heather told us. "I have to like James just because I hate it so much. When we learned about the Reformation in high school, this Bible thumper kept on ranting in class about how James shouldn't be in the Bible and it was too Jewish and un-Christian and like just shut up and let me get an A on the test and be done with this."

"So you are from Texas," Polly noted. "Because no one at my school would let that go on. Especially calling things too Jewish."

"Yeah that kid was weird. Later he had some thing about militant support of Israel and would call anyone antisemitic who didn't agree with everything. And we were all like, we support Israel, we just want to know what's going on."

"That's actually really common," Polly said. "A lot of Christians think Israel's needed for some prophecies in the Tanakh, but then they're really antisemitic in everything else."