Verified by 
When I first met Larry, a 20-year-old college student, he had just been released from an intensive care unit. His teeth were wired, his ribs bandaged, his eyes blackened. He had been speeding in a flashy sports car beneath an elevated rail line in West Philadelphia while under the influence of alcohol. He hit a center post head-on and felt the steering wheel crushing into his ribs.
Before the police arrived, while covered with blood and attempting to regain consciousness, he helplessly watched the local inhabitants remove his car radio and four wheels. After recovering from the impact, but while still in the intensive care unit, the police stopped by and left him a summons to appear for drunk driving. The court suspended Larry’s driver’s license and mandated that he seek counseling.
When asked about his social life, Larry said after several drinks he became a jovial, fun-loving person. Yet, he felt lonely and depressed most of the time. He had been undergoing psychotherapy from time-to-time with an off-campus clinical psychologist. The night of the incident, following a therapeutic session, he felt particularly unsettled and visited a disco bar. After several hours, he became verbally abusive to other patrons at the bar and was asked to leave. He remembers getting into his car and heading back to his dorm.
Larry had little use for psychotherapy, which he believed was in business just to make money. Larry was bitter at the criminal justice system, which he also claimed was in business only to make money. Larry defended the police, however, who he thought had tried to do the “right” thing.
I asked how did Larry know what was “right,” and had he ever questioned what was “right?” Larry gave me a look of disgust and replied that a voice inside told him right from wrong. I asked if he had ever done anything that wasn’t right? Larry’s blackened eyes lit up and he smiled through his wired teeth, “You have to have fun, you know.”
At the following session I asked Larry if he’d had any fun during the week. Larry said he visited his mother, had four or five mixed drinks, and without license drove back to college. A police car had come up alongside, and, Larry said laughingly, he had waved to the officers, and they waved back.
Larry missed his next two scheduled appointments. His probation officer finally caught up with him and told Larry to complete his court mandated therapy sessions or go to jail. Larry returned to therapy with a big smile, “Well, at least I tried.”
I asked what in the recent past was he most angry about. He leaned back and looked up. “My step-dad is a real s.o.b."
“And your dad, were you ever angry with him?” Yes, Larry said, for having gotten killed in Iraq and not coming home to take care of Larry's mother. I asked if there were any men who Larry looked-up to? Larry said he liked war heroes in the movies, particularly the carefree ones who “lived it up.” I asked if his dad had “lived it up?” Larry looked down and said he did not know, but just hoped his dad had died for something.
I pointed out that Larry’s dad was very much alive, insofar as being an embedded voice in Larry’s head and advising him to do the “right” thing. Larry’s inner-most feelings, however, defied this embedded voice by wishing to be carefree and “live it up.” These two unconscious forces were locked into an ongoing conflict which led to Larry’s mood and behavioral swings.
One way to step aside this perpetual conflict was to strengthen his own voice and decide for himself the right thing to do in his best self-interest. Doing so, would not belittle Larry’s respect for his father, but would enhance Larry’s becoming his own man. Larry could also respect his inner-most feelings, which, although irrational, were an innate part of us all. By hitting the center post head-on, he had nearly killed himself as a way to tune out this unremitting internal conflict.
After a long pause, Larry told me that he was thinking back as he walked to his car after leaving the disco bar and remembering a faint voice that said, “Take him out!” I suggested that this may have been Larry’s irrational feelings that would rather not be, than to go on living, imprisoned by his righteous embedded voice.
At our next session, Larry reported that he had begun to think for himself. I asked Larry how he knew this. Larry replied that he knew it because he was thinking of his own best self-interest. Yet, Larry said, he also felt a little guilty about being selfish and not listening to others.
I suggested that it was alright to listen to others, both internally and externally, as long as one’s own voice remains loud, purposeful, and clear. Only by respecting his inner-most feelings, however, could Larry be his own man and not have to adopt the values and norms of others. Allowing others to decide what is right and wrong, can lead to being a mere pawn, with no inner core and without a raison d’etre.
