Flaws of Logic

    “You seem to be an extremely negative person Steven,” said Doctor Ramsey, looking up from his notes.

        Steven smirked. “That is what they tell me Phil,” he replied wryly, leaning back on the brown leather futon. This wasn’t Steven’s first time in a therapist’s office. Far from it. It also wasn’t the first time a therapist commented on his negative nature. And as far as Steven was concerned, Doctor Phillip Ramsey was no different than any of the others.

   “You don’t seem surprised,” said Phil, jotting something down in his bright yellow notepad. “I take it that you’ve heard this before?”

    “Many times, from many people. You therapists have become rather predictable,” Steven answered, sighing deeply. “Almost as if you’ve all been reading the same books, feeding you the same answers,” he added sarcastically.

    “I see,” said Phil, continuing to scribble down notes. “Seems like you’ve got us therapists down to a T.”

    “Perhaps,” said Steven. “And don’t think your sarcasm went unnoticed.”

    “Noted,” said Phil with a faint smile on his lips.

    They both sat there silently. Phil sat observing Steven, as if appraising him. His expression. His demeanor. This did not go unnoticed by Steven, yet he still did not bother to break the silence. This didn’t faze him. He was used to this. The same questions, the same tactics. This was all textbook behavior, and Steven saw right through it.

    “Tell me,” said Phil, finally breaking the silence, “why do you look at everything so negatively?”

    “I’m negative,” Steve replied, not missing a beat, “because my experiences have taught me to do so. Life is like that. It’s naive to think things will turn out fine because they rarely do so.”

    Phil put the notepad down on the desk and asked, “Have you ever considered that maybe your outlook on life contributes to the outcome you end up with? Maybe you should start seeing the glass as half full as opposed to half empty.

    Steven snorted. “I don’t see the glass as half empty,” he retorted. “I don’t see the glass as half anything. All I care about is what it is that the glass holds.” He looks Phil in the eyes. “If you have a glass of sewage water would you see it as half full? No, the better way to see it, or the “positive” way as you would put it, is half empty.” He glared at Phil, as if daring him to argue, and continued, “Would you think of it as negative to see that glass as half empty?”

    Phil continued to meet his gaze, completely unfazed. “You make a good point,” he answered. “But if the glass contains something good, like for example, it held liquid gold, would you see it as half full?”

    “Of course,” Steven replied. “Like I said, it’s all about what’s inside the glass.”

    “Then shouldn’t life work the same? Shouldn’t you be positive in at least some circumstances?” Phil asked.

    “Not at all,” said Steven, unwaveringly. “Positivity defies logic”. He paused briefly, then asked, “You do realize that no matter how you see the glass, be it half full or half empty, it makes no difference, right?”

    “How do you figure?,” asked Phil, sitting up in his chair. Despite their difference in opinion, Phil was absolutely calm, in complete contrast to Steven’s growing hostility.

    “Because you’re still left with whatever is in the glass!” Steven stated, his voice rising. “Seeing it one way or the other doesn’t change what you have!”

    “No” replied Phil, “but it could change how you feel about it.” He paused briefly, and then said, “Though I was referring to your prior statement. The one about positivity defying logic. What makes you think that?”

    “It’s self explanatory,” said Steven, rolling his eyes. “If you expect the best than chances are you’ll end up disappointed. You’re unlikely to get the best outcome. And if the worst happens, that’s a major blow. But if you expect the worst, then the worst case scenario is that you get what you were expecting, which won’t hurt as much, since you were expecting it. And anything else comes as a pleasant surprise. No matter the outcome, negativity brings better results.”

    “But wouldn’t that contradict what you said earlier?” asked Phil. “That how you look at things should depend on the substance of the matter? ‘What’s in the glass,’ so to speak?”

    “Perhaps for some people,” Steven said, annoyed. “Not if life only deals you bad hands.” He stopped talking for a moment, then said, “You therapists all just say the same things. This is why I never come back to any of you, it’s pointless.”

    “Well,” said Phil, “If so many people are telling you this, shouldn’t you consider that they’re onto something?”

    “A lot of people think a lot of things,” Steven shot back. “It doesn’t make them right. People thought that if you sailed too far, you’d fall off the edge of the world. Last I checked, they were wrong.”

    “If therapy is so pointless,” said Phil, “Why do you keep going? Albeit to different ones each time, why do you still try?”

    “Mostly to get the people who tell me I need therapy off my back,” Steven replied with a smirk. “And besides,” he added with a shrug, “I’ve got nothing to lose.”

    “That sounds somewhat less than negative,” said Phil, smiling.

    “Perhaps,” muttered Steven. “Or maybe I simply don’t care anymore.” Steven glanced at the digital clock on Phil’s desk, then started to get up. “Anyway,” he said, gesturing to the clock, “We’re out of time. Guess this is as far as we go.”

    Steven walked to the door. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, Phil spoke up. “Do you know what I see when I look at you Steven?” he asked.

    Steven turned back to face him, rolling his eyes. “Let me guess,” he said. “You see someone who needs to be more positive so that all of his problems will magically vanish.”

    “No,” said Phil. “I see a person ruled by logic. A person who would rather rely on logic than to rely on himself. You’re so afraid of what can happen that you don’t allow yourself to enjoy the present. You dread the future, and when you reach that point, you only dread the further future. You mask your hopefulness with negativity so that if things turn out badly, you can convince yourself that you were prepared. And in doing so, you ruin the present moment. Your logic is your greatest enemy.”

“That’s ridiculous,” scoffed Steven, though in reality his resolve had faltered. “My logic is flawless.”

“Your logic may be flawless,” said Phil, looking Steven directly in the eyes, “But logic in and of itself is flawed. You’re a prisoner of your own logic. By always thinking and analyzing, you’re not allowing yourself to live. And one day, at the end of it all, even if you’ve successfully managed to prevent every worst case scenario, or convince yourself that things don’t bother you as much as they do, and that you don’t feel the things that you feel, you will have never lived. You’ll realize you spent your whole life preparing for the future, but the future is out of reach.”

“And you’re a crackpot just like every other therapist I’ve met,” said Steven, as he turned and opened the door. His pride wouldn’t allow him to admit it, not even to himself, but what Phil said was resonating with him. Some of it at least. Like there was just a little bit that might not be complete nonsense. This was the thought process going on in Steven’s head as he started to step out the door. He paused, and after briefly hesitating, he forced himself to turn back around. Refusing to meet Phil’s eyes, he looked almost straight down at the floor. Then, completely throwing aside his pride, he blurted out five words that he never thought he would utter.

“Can I make another appointment?”