Susan Jennifer Polese

Busy with internship and last stretch of graduate school. Trying to keep family going smoothly while earning some money. Might as well be turning water into wine or tin into gold. Wanna write – need to write – not writing.

I am interning as a domestic violence and sexual assault counselor. The work is challenging and difficult, but rewarding. I’ve noticed one thing, however – Ever want to stop the conversation on a dime at a cocktail party? - just mention that you are a domestic violence and sexual assault counselor. While out trying to relax and have fun at a party I have tried to give the pat answer of “I am a counselor” in response to the inevitable question, “What do you do?” – but I can’t keep my passion down and I need to share what I am actually doing for a living and what I am so passionate about it. I am often faced with a blank stare or a “I could never do that kind of work,” and this is often the end of the conversation. Don’t get me wrong! Occasionally I do get an interested conversation partner and we have a great exchange and we both learn something from each other (don’t you just love when that happens?) But usually after I say what I do all that fills the air is the sound of crickets.

The old boy has been disavowed throughout the ages. But we all owe him and extra thank you – not only for providing the rich fodder for truly wonderful Woody Allen films, but for giving us the juicy concepts of regression, sublimation, denial – and my favorite (for the purposes of this blog post): countertransference. Yes, I am talking about Freud, the father of psychoanalysis, who even the most devoted of psychoanalytic therapists say was, well – just plain wrong in the majority of his assumptions and his approach to mental health.

I was 22 years old working at my first graphic design job in Manhattan. The office staff was called into a conference in the morning, I can’t recall the purpose of the meeting but breakfast foods were spread out on the table and my coworkers and I sat eating and talking when the head honcho came in. A tall, towering man named Mr. Noren – he was the owner of the healthcare company that employed all of us. Amidst our chewing Mr. Noren entered took a seat and before addressing us formally his gaze landed on Adele, our demure receptionist who did an excellent job and always presented herself professionally. She was a few years older than I was and single. As I swallowed a bite of my blueberry muffin I noticed that Adele was half-way through eating a banana as Mr. Noren said loudly, “Hey Adele, you handle that banana like an old married woman.”

You may have guessed by those rudimentary (and overly formal) first sentences that I am learning Spanish with the Rosetta Stone software program. It is probably painfully obvious that I am presently on Level One, Unit One. Oh yes, it’s basic as basic can be. But we all need to start somewhere, no? (That last word, by the way, is the same in English and Spanish. I find that comforting, somehow).