Chapter 33

      A long drive across the desert was strangely relaxing, and as he crossed into California, John thought about how many people had made a similar trek in pursuit of some kind of dream. He had spent time in LA a few years earlier, and was briefly even considered for his own talk show in another incarnation. He thought about his days as younger, single, hard-living psychologist. He could be quite charming when he wanted to be, and instinctively knew all of the right things to say when he was on camera or doing some kind of media event.

     But deep down John knew he was living a kind of lie back then. He was promiscuous, drinking too much, and hadn’t known real intimacy in his life, despite all of the confidence he projected. Meeting his wife and adopting his daughter had given him a kind of depth that had been missing in both his life as well as his work, and he felt like he became a much more authentic psychologist as a result of finding his girls.

     He thought about his work as a therapist as he continued to head west. He reflected again on Jung’s idea that ‘it was only the wounded healer who could heal.” Could he somehow channel his experiences into his work again someday? He felt like he was in the process of answering this question. His trip to the canyon had led him to believe he still had some kind of resilience and that something inside of him was fighting to live.

      He flipped the radio to a Grateful Dead station on the satellite radio. It was his favorite music to travel to as a young man, and he still loved the music as an older guy. As he pulled through Bakersfield California, the song “Mexicali Blues” came on, and he found himself singing along,

‘Is there anything a man don't stand to lose
When he lets a woman hold him in her hands?
He just might find himself out there on horseback in the dark
Just ridin and runnin across those desert sands.’

The lyrics seemed a kind of perfect description of his life right now. He was driving across the barren desert in mourning over a woman. It was a fun song and he was enjoying himself, but his thoughts drifted towards that first stanza. Is there anything a man don’t stand to lose, when he lets a woman hold him in her hands?

    It was a great question, and one he wasn’t sure he had an answer to. He had often preached to couples that without vulnerability there was really no intimacy. It was easy to preach this mantra to others, but much harder to process when your own heart was broken in a million pieces. In the meantime he guessed he had his own version of the Mexicali Blues.

     He realized it was getting dark, and he wanted to hear some more Grateful Dead. His mood had turned towards melancholia, and he felt himself being pulled back into a familiar feeling. Although he tried to fight it, he found his own feelings difficult to resist, and, as if on auto-pilot, found himself pulling into a dusty bar in Bakersfield to drink some beer and listen to the Grateful Dead. 

He guessed he wasn't done drinking after all.