My Session with Dr. Phil

By Joel Stein

I've never had what other people call depth. I've never kept a journal, or pondered the meaning of life or even been depressed. Once, when my college girlfriend dumped me, I was really sad, but even then I was more excited about the life experience of feeling depressed than actually depressed, which kind of ruined the whole thing. When people talk about finding out who they are, I just look at them blankly, since that's not something I ever think about. I know who I am: I'm a guy who enjoys food, television and sex. The only reason I ever wanted depth was that women find it attractive. If depth also got you food and TV, I'd brood in a way that would make Johnny Depp look like Richard Simmons by comparison.

I'm so shallow I wouldn't even be aware of my lack of depth if it weren't for the fact that my mother is a therapist and points it out to me. In fact, the only time I've been to a therapy session was when she brought me with her and my dad to talk about how their divorce was hurting my sister; when I got there, the shrink pulled out a column my mom had planted there that I had written for my college paper about being unable to feel anything, which deeply concerned my mom. A column that may or may not have lines I'm reusing right now.

Personally, I found it hard to believe I'm the one with the problems when my mother, who was going through a divorce, was making time to Candid Camera me. Nevertheless, in the interest of self-exploration and to avoid writing an actual science story for this mental-health issue, I decided to be analyzed by Dr. Phil. Searching for problems to work on, I considered talking to him about not having got a haircut for 11 months in an effort to disguise the fact that I'm going bald. But I figured Dr. Phil might not be the best person to bring that up with.

So I called my mom, who is a big Dr. Phil fan, and asked her what's wrong with me. "Do you have to come up with just one issue?" she asked. I was already regretting this phone call. "One of the issues is your avoidance of conflict. You refuse to fight. You walk away. It would be interesting to see where that came from," she said. I suggested that it possibly came from having a therapist mom. Then she said something else that I said I agreed with, but sort of missed since I was typing an e-mail. I can safely guess it involved the words "sharing," "intimacy" and "relationship."

Dr. Phil, however, thought my mom was completely wrong. "I've been married coming up on 28 years now, and Robin and I never fight. I absolutely hate conflict and confrontation," he said. "The problem is, when you don't argue, you miss makeup sex. And that's absolutely the best sex in the whole world." Then I got kind of grossed out thinking about my mom. "Also, right before Valentine's Day or Christmas, a good fight can save you several hundred dollars," Dr. Phil continued. Good advice. You don't get to put "Dr." in front of your name for nothing.

Dr. Phil also thought my mom was wrong about the way I express myself when I'm upset: I kind of mope and wait for people to notice instead of just telling them how I feel with words like "sharing," "intimacy," "relationship" and "makeup sex." Further refuting my mom, Dr. Phil said, "One of my favorite songs is by Ronan Keating. He says, 'You say the most when you say nothing at all.'" I wish Dr. Phil had been around to argue with my mom for me when I was 16.

Also, Dr. Phil said my avoidance of conflict was clearly not keeping me from expressing my needs and innermost thoughts. "I think your columns are amazingly intimate. You tell people what you are feeling and thinking and experiencing. It's high disclosure." He also said he was "a fan" and that I "have a really good sense of humor." That makes it Dr. Phil 3, Mom 0.

With time still left on my 50 minutes, I asked the doctor if I'm too narcissistic. "Seems to me it's working for you pretty well," he said. "Don't fix what ain't broke." Finally, I posed my major self-improvement dilemma to him. "I think maybe I watch too much porn," I said, to which Dr. Phil replied, "Is it making you tired?" If being unable to stay awake is the definition of a problem, then perhaps I am actually not watching enough.

A new convert to therapy, not because I wound up with any insights, but because it encouraged more porn viewing, I thanked Dr. Phil. Then I called my mom to ask her how it felt to have lost, big time.

"I'm very happy that Dr. Phil thinks you're so psychologically healthy. That means I did a great job," she said.

Therapists are good. Especially if you knew what she made me take out of this column.