War and Peace of Mind

The office of Doctor Hans Anderson is a celebration of a successful and revered career in the field of psychiatry.  Awards and scholarships adorn the magnificent oak bookcase in the western corner of his sanctuary alongside a library of books and articles from the greatest minds in history.  Such geniuses as Freud, Laurin, Jung, Guattari sit alongside the name of Hans Anderson.

The shades are drawn down over the window allowing only bars of daylight to break into the room, a favoured technique of Anderson.  On the Cambridge Earth black leather couch lays his cerebrally-exposed three o'clock, whom he perches over like a psychological vulture.

"So then Mr. Fitzpatrick, I believe we concluded last week’s session with a discussion of your religious beliefs and your life as a Roman Catholic."

Mr. Fitzpatrick takes a reflective breath before confirming Anderson's recollection.  "That's correct - though I must inform you of something which I didn't mention last week."

"Really?  Please continue, Mr. Fitzpatrick."

"Yes, well...I have been Catholic all my life.  Though there was one week where I was Jewish.  I accidentally addressed my Priest as 'Rabbi' whilst receiving Holy Communion during Mass and was banned from the church.  I don't know what caused me to say it, but I felt great embarrassment and decided to convert to Judaism.  Unfortunately I couldn't understand Hebrew and failed the entry exam.  So I left town and re-joined the Catholic Church."

"Fascinating," mused Doctor Anderson as he leaned out of the window.  "So it could be said that you hold a..erm..resentment towards your faith?"

"Oh no, not at all Doctor.  I cherish my Christian values greatly."  Fitzpatrick sat up slightly as Doctor Anderson prepared to probe deeper into his psyche.

"So if you don't resent the church for their treatment of you then what brought you to discuss religion last week?"  The Doctor's voice had suddenly taken on an authoritative tone as he searched for a breakthrough with his patient.

"I think..."  Fitzpatrick stumbled as he tried to remember what it is he was thinking.

A silence came over the room, both men shuffling in their respective seats as the clock continued to tick.  Actually Doctor Anderson keeps fifteen clocks in his office.  He likes to be sure that he's getting value for money.  Twenty minutes pass.

"I think that I suffer from Catholic guilt," blurted out Mr. Fitzpatrick.

"Guilt?  In what way are you a guilty Catholic?"

"I've just heard the phrase used, Doctor.  'Catholic guilt'...it sounded catchy and so I began to apply it to myself.  I mean, I do feel guilt.  For example...with my ex-girlfriend I feel extraordinary guilt for coming home from work early and finding her in bed with her lover.  Even though we were both living separately with our parents at the time, I can't help but blame myself."

Doctor Anderson finished changing his shirt before considering the new information presented to him.  "Guilt can be a very powerful emotion and I can see why your guilt in this particular instance has brought you to question your sexuality the way you are.  But I must stress to you Mr. Fitzpatrick that it has always been my belief that guilt is over-rated.  If we felt no guilt for our actions then we would be heartless creatures indeed."

"You could be right Doctor, only it isn't my ex-girlfriend who has made me question my manhood...my sexuality."

"Feel free to elaborate."

"I feel a deep emptiness in my life.  I have recently come to realise that I'm thirty-nine and I still haven't read War and Peace," says Fitzpatrick, a tinge of sadness sweeping into his vocal chord.

"And this makes you feel empty?  Mr. Fitzpatrick, lots of people go through life without reading War and Peace.  Of course it is a classic, but it's not the only classic novel out there.  It doesn't suit everybody's literary taste," replies Doctor Anderson with the soothing emotion of a baby's blanket.

"It's just something I've always wanted to do.  I feel inadequate for not having read it.  I tried once but I couldn't get past the first page.  It was just so daunting.  And I need to read this book.  I must read it.  Everything in my life seems to be like a reference to War and Peace."

"A reference?  But how do you know if you've never read it?"

"That's why I need to read it," argues Fitzpatrick, his body shaking with anxiety, sweat trickling from his brow.  "I always had a dream, Doctor.  It's been my life-long ambition to write the sequel to War and Peace."

Doctor Anderson tries desperately to restrain himself from chuckling at this very idea.  He places his hand over his mouth as he attempts to respond rationally to Fitzpatrick.  "Why do you feel that it's important for you to write the sequel to this novel, War and Peace?"

"It's my calling in life Doctor.  I feel that I have been put here to write 'War and Peace Two'.  Until I achieve this I'll always be a failure.  Even now I feel people looking down at me when I walk down the street.  I see them sniggering at me behind their newspapers.  I yearn to be part of the intellectuals, to know what they discuss, to go to parties and introduce myself as being the author of the sequel to War and Peace.  I want to be able to speak Russian and wear a Cossack in public."

"This is all very enlightening, Mr. Fitzpatrick, but I fear our time has come to an end this week.  I must be honest with you when I say that I don't think that there is much more we can achieve together with these sessions.  It has become clear to me that you're an inadequate individual who can never accomplish his ultimate dream.  Basically you are 99% of the human population."

"Oh," muttered the disappointed patient.  "So this is it?  No more sessions?"

"We've gotten to the root of your problem and the best advice I can give you is to go home and have a cup of coffee."

"Yes, that's what I plan on doing.  Do you take cheque?"  Mr. Fitzpatrick fumbled around inside the inner pocket of his jacket.  "How much do I owe you?"

"Let me think.  We've had four hour-long sessions.  If you could make your cheque out for £4,250 please...."