Chapter 4 Walk Like a Man
"Hey, Shane, come on in and sit down," Carol Beringer said, looking up from a thick file on her desk. She moved the half-lens reading glasses that had been perched low on her nose to the top of her gray head. "Guess what's come back?"
"My test scores," Shane said, closing the door and moving to slouch in the chair in front of Carol's desk. As always, Shane was the last patient of the day.
Carol got up and went to a small refrigerator built into her credenza. "Want some water or juice or a soda?"
"Water'd be good," Shane said. Carol got two bottles and gave one to Shane.
"Thanks," Shane said. "So, exactly how psycho am I?"
"Well, if that's the question, then I've got some bad news. You're not very psycho at all. Hardly any. In fact, all things considered, except for the perfectly understandable PTSD from the rape, and your childhood abandonment and commitment issues, which I don't want to minimize, you're otherwise in pretty good shape. And my theory about you seems to be correct. I think I know what
you
think is wrong with you, and I think I have an explanation for it."
Shane grunted and took a drink from her bottle of water.
"Shane, let me ask you this. How smart do you think you are?"
"Not very."
"In fact, I'll bet you think you aren't smart at all. Part of it, of course, is your school record, that you dropped out so early, in tenth grade, that your attendance was horrible even before that, and your grades weren't very good most of the time, going all the way back. Behavior problems. Teachers gave up on you, you had no support from your home life, because you had essentially no reasonable home life to begin with. You moved around quite a bit, foster home to foster home, so no continuity. You were always the new kid, plus you were always the poor kid, the raggedy kid, the sullen, quiet, uncommunicative kid everywhere you went. And then at some point, you also became the gay kid, the lesbian. Even if other people weren't aware of your orientation, you were. The outsider, the strange one, the one that's a little different. Right?"
It was a rhetorical question and Shane didn't bother responding. Carol didn't bother to wait for an answer they both already knew.
"As far as the education thing goes, that is simply what the old Westerns called 'book-learning,' which I'm sure you understand is not to be confused with 'smart.' So, yes, you are weak in education, all the accumulated stuff, a lot of it crap, that the average high school throws at you. Plus there's that noise in your head. Somebody asks you a question, you're slow to respond. You aren't very verbal, and it takes you a long time to process things, so you are slow to answer. You only just turned twenty years old, and for the past three-quarters of your life every message, every experience has taught you one single lesson about yourself: that you're stupid. You're slow. Maybe more politely, you just aren't all that bright. Not the sharpest knife in the drawer. Not the brightest light bulb in the chandelier."
Shane felt awful, and just looked down at her hands.
"Shane, look at me," Carol said. Shane looked up slowly.
"Shane, all that I just said, you know what? None of it is true. It's bullshit, Shane. All of it, every single bit. Because you know what all these tests show? They show you're actually a pretty bright kid. Exceptionally bright, even. Know what your I.Q. is? The test says it's about 131. You know what my I.Q. is? I'm about 128. Shane, you're three points smarter than me, okay? Now, neither one of us is a genius and neither one of us is likely to get invited to join MENSA, but we're both pretty intelligent people. But all your life you've been taught to think you're a dummy, Shane, but you really aren't. And quite frankly, I have no idea how the hell I'm going to convince you otherwise, and get your head turned around and your self-esteem where it ought to be, but right now that's number one on my things-to-do list with you. You're not below average in any way, shape or form; in fact, you're above average in just about everything."
Carol looked up. "You look a little bit stunned, Shane. But I suppose that's normal. Just hang in with me, kid; there's more."
"You might remember that one of the tests you took was something called the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator. Basically, it tries to measure what kind of personality you have, and puts it into one of sixteen general categories. It's based on the work of one of the early pioneers in the field of psychology, a man named Carl Jung, who worked the same time Freud did, and they knew each other. You've heard of Freud, right? Jung wrote a book on personality types in 1920, and that was pretty much the foundation of this branch of psychology. Jung said there are two kinds of psychological functions, perceiving functions, and judging functions. The two perceiving functions, the information-gathering functions, are sensing, which doesn't mean that you sense something is wrong, or you sense what mood someone is in. It just refers to actual sensory processes, like seeing, smelling, touch, taste, hearing, that kind of thing, the five senses, the data, the facts. The other one is intuition, those flashes of insight, the hunches that people get, usually without knowing where they come from. Your intuition function, as it happens, is incredibly high."
"Now, the two judging functions are thinking and feeling. Thinking tends to be based on data, on observable facts, on information, tangible, concrete things, logic, reasoning. Feeling, on the other hand, has to do with emotions, with empathy for other people, thinking about how others must feel, sometimes about harmony and balance, and what other people might be needing. No surprise, at least, not to me, is you're really good at this, too. So I'm going to boil all this down real quickly. You have what the Myers-Briggs test calls an INFP personality type, which only about four percent of the population have."