Chapter 9 of The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde On the 9th of January, now four days ago, I received by the evening delivery a registered envelope addressed in the hand of my colleague and old school companion, Henry Jekyll. I was a good deal surprised by this, for we were by no means in the habit of correspondence. I had seen the man, dined with him indeed the night before, and I could imagine nothing in our intercourse that should justify formality of registration. The contents increased my wonder, for this is how the letter ran. 10th December, 18 blank. Dear Lanyon, you are one of my oldest friends, and although we may have differed at times on scientific questions, I cannot remember, at least on my side, any break in our affection.   If you fail me to-night, I am lost. You might suppose, after this preface, that I am going to ask you for something dishonourable to grant. Judge for yourself. I want you to postpone all other engagements for to-night. I, even if you are summoned to the bedside of an emperor, to take a cab, unless your carriage should be actually at the door, and with this letter in your hand for consultation, to drive straight to my house. Pool, my butler, has his orders. You'll find him waiting your arrival with a locksmith. The door of my cabinet is then to be forced, you are to go in alone. To open the glazed press, letter E, on the left hand. Break the lock if it be shut, and to draw out with all its contents as they stand, the fourth drawer from the top, or, which is the same thing, the third from the bottom. In my extreme distress of mind I have a morbid fear of misdirecting you, but even if I am in error, you may know the right drawer by its contents. Some powders. A file and paper book. This drawer I beg of you to carry back with you to Cavendish Square exactly as it stands. That is the first part of the service. Now for the second. You should be back, if you set out at once on the receipt of this, long before midnight. But I will leave you that amount of margin, not only in the fear of one of those obstacles that can neither be prevented nor foreseen, but because an hour when your servants are in bed is to be preferred for what will then remain to do. At midnight then, I have to ask you to be alone in your consulting room, to admit with your own hand into the house a man who will present himself in my name, and to place in his hands the drawer that you will have brought with you from my cabinet. Then you will have played your part and earned my gratitude completely. Five minutes afterwards, if you insist upon an explanation, you will have understood that these arrangements are of capital importance, and that by the neglect of one of them, fantastic as they must appear, you might have charged your conscience with my death or the shipwreck of my reason. Confident as I am that you will not trifle with this appeal, my heart sinks and my hand trembles at the bare thought of such a possibility. Think of me at this hour in a strange place, laboring under a blackness of distress that no fancy can exaggerate, and yet well aware that if you will but punctually serve me, my troubles will roll away like a story that is told. Serve me, my dear Lanyon, and save your friend, H.J. P.S. I had already sealed this up when a fresh terror struck upon my soul. It is possible that the post office may fail me, and this letter not come into your hands until tomorrow morning. In that case, dear Lanyon, do my errand when it shall be most convenient for you in the course of the day, and once more expect my messenger at midnight. It may then already be too late, and if that night passes without event, you will know that you have seen the last of Henry Jekyll. Upon the reading of this letter I made sure my colleague was insane, but till that was proved beyond the possibility of doubt, I felt bound to do as he requested. The less I understood of this ferago, the less I was in a position to judge of its importance, and an appeal so worded could not be set aside without a grave responsibility. I rose accordingly from the table, got into a handsome, and drove straight to Henry Jekyll's house. The butler was awaiting my arrival. He had received by the same post as mine a registered letter of instruction, and had sent it once for a locksmith and a carpenter. The tradesman came while we were yet speaking, and we moved in a body to old Dr. Denman's surgical theatre, from which, as you are doubtless aware, Jekyll's private cabinet is most conveniently entered. The door was very strong, the lock excellent. The carpenter avowed he would have great trouble and have to do much damage if force were to be used, and the locksmith was near despair. But this last was a handy fellow, and after two hours' work the door stood open. The press marked E was unlocked, and I took out the drawer, had it filled up with straw and tied in a sheet, and returned with it to Cavendish Square. Here I proceeded to examine its contents. The powders were neatly enough made up, but not with the nicety of the dispensing chemist, so that it was plain they were of Jekyll's private manufacture. And when I opened one of the wrappers I found what seemed to me a simple crystalline salt of a white colour. The file to which I next turned my attention might have been about half full of a blood red liquor, which was highly pungent to the sense of smell, and seemed to me to contain phosphorus and some volatile ether. At the other ingredients I could make no gas. The book was an ordinary version book, and contained little but a series of dates. These covered a period of many years, but I observed that the entries ceased nearly a year ago and quite abruptly. Here and there a brief remark was appended to a date, usually no more than a single word, double, occurring perhaps six times in a total of several hundred entries, and once very early in the list and followed by several marks of exclamation, total failure. All this, though it wedded my curiosity, told me little that was definite. Here were a file of some salt, and the record of a series of experiments that had led, like too many of Jekyll's investigations, to no end of practical usefulness. How could the presence of these artifacts in my house affect either the honour, the sanity, or the life of my flighty colleague? If his messenger could go to one place, why could he not go to another? And even granting some impediment, why was this gentleman to be received by me in secret? The more I reflected, the more convinced I grew that I was dealing with a case of cerebral disease. And though I dismissed my servants to bed, I loaded an old revolver that I might be found in some posture of self-defense. Twelve o'clock had scarce wrung out over London ere the knocker sounded very gently on the door. I went myself at the summons and found a small man crouching against the pillars of the portico. Are you from Dr. Jekyll? I asked. He told me yes by a constrained gesture, and when I had bidden him enter he did not obey me without a searching backward glance into the darkness of the square. There was a policeman not far off, advancing with his bull's eye open, and at the sight I thought my visitor started and made greater haste. These particulars struck me I confess disagreeably, and as I followed him into the bright light of the consulting room I kept my hand ready on my weapon. Here, at last, I had a chance of clearly seeing him. I had never set eyes on him before, so much was certain. He was small, as I have said. I was struck besides with the shocking expression of his face, with his remarkable combination of great muscular activity, and great apparent ability of constitution. And last, but not least, with the odd subjective disturbance caused by his neighbourhood. This bore some resemblance to incipient rigor, and was accompanied by a marked sinking of the pulse. At the time I set it down to some idiosyncratic personal distaste, and merely wondered at the acuteness of the symptoms, but I have since had reason to believe the cause to lie much deeper in the nature of man, and to turn on some nobler hinge than the principle of hatred. This person, who had thus, from the first moment of his entrance, struck in me what I can only describe as a disgustful curiosity, was dressed in a fashion that would have made an ordinary person laughable. His clothes, that is to say, though they were of rich and sober fabric, were enormously too large for him in every measurement. The trousers hanging on his legs and rolled up to keep them from the ground, the waist of the coat below his haunches, and the collar sprawling wide upon his shoulders. Strange to relate, this ludicrous accoutrement was far from moving me to laughter. Rather, as there was something abnormal and misbegotten in the very essence of the creature that now faced me, something seizing, surprising, and revolting, this fresh disparity seemed but to fit in with and to reinforce it, so that to my interest in the man's nature and character, there was added a curiosity as to his origin, his life, his fortune and status in the world. These observations, though they have taken so great a space to be set down in, were yet the work of a few seconds. My visitor was, indeed, on fire with somber excitement. Have you got it? he cried. Have you got it?  I put him back, conscious at his touch of a certain icy pang along my blood. Come, sir, said I, you forget that I have not yet the pleasure of your acquaintance. Be seated, if you please. And I showed him an example, and sat down myself in my customary seat, and with his fair enimitation of my ordinary manner to a patient, as the lateness of the hour, the nature of my preoccupations, and the horror I had of my visitor would suffer me to muster. I beg your pardon, Dr. Lanyon. He replied civilly enough. What you say is very well founded, and my impatience has shown its heels to my politeness.  He paused and put his hand to his throat, and I could see, in spite of his collected manner, that he was wrestling against the approaches of the hysteria. I understood a draw. But here I took pity on my visitor's suspense, and some perhaps on my own growing curiosity. There it is, sir. I said, pointing to the draw, where it lay on the floor behind a table and still covered with the sheet. He sprang to it and then paused, and laid his hand upon his heart. I could hear his teeth grate with the convulsive action of his jaws, and his face was so ghastly to see that I grew alarmed both for his life and reason. Compose yourself, said I. He turned a dreadful smile to me, and as if with the decision of despair plucked away the sheet. At sight of the contents he uttered one loud sob of such immense relief that I sat petrified. And the next moment, in a voice that was already fairly well under control, have you a graduated glass? He asked. I rose from my place with something of an effort and gave him what he asked. He thanked me with a smiling nod, measured out a few minims of the red tincture, and added one of the powders. The mixture, which was at first of a reddish hue, began in proportion as the crystals melted, to brighten in color, to effervesce audibly, and to throw off small fumes of vapor. Suddenly, and at the same moment, the abolition ceased, and the compound changed to a dark purple, which faded again more slowly to a watery green. My visitor, who had watched these metamorphoses with a keen eye, smiled, sat down the glass upon the table, and then turned and looked upon me with an air of scrutiny. And now, said he, to settle what remains. Will you be wise? Will you be guided? Will you suffer me to take this glass in my hand and to go forth from your house without further parlay? Or has the greed of curiosity too much command of you? Think before your answer, for it shall be done as you decide. As you decide, you shall be left as you were before, and neither richer nor wiser, unless the sense of service rendered to a man in mortal distress, may be counted as a kind of riches of the soul. Or, if you shall so prefer to choose, a new province of knowledge, a new avenues to fame and power shall be laid open to you, here, in this room, upon the instant, and your sight shall be blasted by a prodigy to stagger the unbelief of Satan. Sir, said I, affecting a coolness that I was far from truly possessing. You speak enigmas, and you will perhaps not wonder that I hear you with no very strong impression of belief. But I have gone too far in the way of inexplicable services, to pause before I see the end. It is well, replied my visitor. Lanyan, you remember your vows. What follows is under the seal of our profession. And now, you who have so long been bound to the most narrow and material views, you who have denied the virtue of transcendental medicine, you who have derided your superiors, behold. He put the glass to his lips and drank at one gulp. A cry followed, he reeled, staggered, clutched at the table and held on, staring with injected eyes, gasping with open mouth. And as I looked, there came, I thought, a change. He seemed to swell, his face became suddenly black, and the features seemed to melt and alter. In the next moment, I had sprung to my feet and leapt back against the wall, my arms raised to shield me from that prodigy. My mind submerged in terror. Oh God! I screamed. And oh God! Again and again. For there before my eyes, pale and shaken and half-fainting, and groping before him with his hands, like a man restored from death, there stood Henry Jekyll. What he told me in the next hour, I cannot bring my mind to set on paper. I saw what I saw, I heard what I heard, and my soul sickened at it. And yet now, when that sight has faded from my eyes, I ask myself if I believe it, and I cannot answer. My life is shaken to its roots. Sleep has left me. The deadliest terror sits by me at all hours of the day and night. And I feel that my days are numbered, and that I must die. And yet I shall die incredulous. As for the moral turpitude that man unveiled to me, even with tears of penitence I cannot, even in memory, dwell on it without a start of horror. I will say but one thing, Utterson. And that, if you can bring your mind to credit it, will be more than enough. The creature who crept into my house that night was, on Jekyll's own confession, known by the name of Hyde, and hunted for in every corner of the land, as the murderer of Karoo. The strange case of Dr. Jekyll in Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson. CHAPTER X Henry Jekyll's full statement of the case. I was born in the year 18 Blank to a large fortune, endowed besides with excellent parts, inclined by nature to industry, fond of the respect of the wise and good among my fellow men, and thus, as might have been supposed, with every guarantee of an honourable and distinguished future. And indeed, the worst of my faults was a certain impatient gaiety of disposition, such as has made the happiness of many, but such as I found it hard to reconcile with my imperious desire to carry my head high, and wear a more than commonly grave countenance before the public. Hence it came about that I concealed my pleasures, and that when I reached years of reflection, and began to look around me and take stock of my progress and position in the world, I stood already committed to a profound duplicity of me. Many a man would have even blazoned such irregularities as I was guilty of. But from the high views that I had set before me, I regarded and hid them with an almost morbid sense of shame. It was thus rather the exacting nature of my aspirations than any part of degradation in my faults that made me what I was. And, with even a deeper trench than in the majority of men, severed in me those provinces of good and ill which divide and compound a man's dual nature. In this case I was driven to reflect deeply and inveterately on that hard law of life, which lies at the root of religion, and is one of the most plentiful springs of distress.  Both sides of me were in dead earnest. I was no more myself when I laid aside restraint and plunged in shame than when I labored, in the eye of day, at the furtherance of knowledge or the relief of sorrow and suffering. And it chanced that the direction of my scientific studies, which led wholly towards the mystic and the transcendental, retracted and shed a strong light on this consciousness of the perennial war among my members. With every day and from both sides of my intelligence, the moral and the intellectual, I thus drew steadily nearer to that truth, by whose partial discovery I had been doomed to such a dreadful shipwreck, that a man is not truly one, but truly two. I say two, because the state of my own knowledge does not pass beyond that point. Others will follow, others will outstrip me on the same lines, and I hazard the guess that man will be ultimately known for a mere polity of multifarious incongruous and independent denizens. I, for my part, from the nature of my life, advanced infallibly in one direction, and in one direction only. It was on the moral side, and in my own person, that I learned to recognize the thorough and primitive duality of man. I saw that of the two natures that contended in the field of my consciousness, even if I could rightly be said to be either, it was only because I was radically both. And from an early date, even before the course of my scientific discoveries had begun to suggest the most naked possibility of such a miracle, I had learned to dwell with pleasure as a beloved daydream on the thought of the separation of these elements. If each, I told myself, could be housed in separate identities, life would be relieved of all that was unbearable. The unjust might go his way, delivered from the aspirations and remorse of his more upright twin. And the just could walk steadfastly and securely on his upward path, doing the good things in which he found his pleasure, and no longer exposed to disgrace and penitence by the hands of this extraneous evil. It was the curse of mankind that these incongruous faggots were thus bound together, that in the agonized womb of consciousness these polar twins should be continuously struggling. How, then, were they disassociated? I was so far in my reflections, when, as I have said, a sidelight began to shine upon the subject from the laboratory table. I began to perceive more deeply than it has ever yet been stated, the trembling immateriality, the mis-like transience of this seemingly so solid body in which we walk, attired. Certain agents I found to have the power to shake and pluck back that fleshy vestment, even as a wind might toss the curtains of a pavilion. For two good reasons I will not enter deeply into this scientific branch of my confession. First, because I have been made to learn that the doom and burden of our life is bound forever on man's shoulders, and when the attempt is made to cast it off, it but returns upon us with more unfamiliar and more awful pressure. Second, because as my narrative will make alas too evident, my discoveries were incomplete. Enough, then, that I will not only recognize my natural body from the mere aura and effulgence of certain of the powers that make up my spirit, but manage to compound a drug by which these powers should be dethroned from their supremacy, and a second form and countenance substituted, none the less natural to me because they were the expression and bore the stamp of lower elements in my soul. I hesitated long before I put this theory to the test of practice. I knew well that I risked death for any drug that so potently controlled and shook the very fortress of identity, might, by the least scruple of an overdose, or at the least inopportunity in the moment of exhibition, utterly blot out that immaterial tabernacle which I looked to it to change. But the temptation of a discovery so singular and profound at last overcame the suggestions of alarm. I had long since prepared my tincture. I purchased at once from a firm of wholesale chemists a large quantity of a particular salt which I knew from my experiments to be the last ingredient required, and late one accursed night I compounded the elements, watched them boil and smoke together in the glass, and when the ebullition had subsided, with a strong glow of courage, drank off the potion. The most racking pains succeeded, a grinding in the bones, deadly nausea, and a horror of the spirit that cannot be exceeded at the hour of birth or death. Then these agonies began swiftly to subside, and I came to myself as if out of a great sickness. There was something strange in my sensations, something indescribably new, and from its very novelty incredibly sweet. I felt younger, lighter, happier in body. Within I was conscious of a heady recklessness, a current of disordered sensual images running like a millrace in my fancy, a solution of the bonds of obligation, an unknown but not an innocent freedom of the soul. I knew myself at the first breath of this new life, to be more wicked, tenfold more wicked, sold a slave to my original evil, and the thought in that moment braced and delighted me like wine. I stretched out my hands, exulting in the freshness of these sensations, and in the act I was suddenly aware that I had lost in stature. There was no mirror at that date in my room, that which stands beside me as I write, was brought here later on and for the very purpose of these transformations. The night, however, was far gone into the morning. The morning, black as it was, was nearly ripe for the conception of the day. The inmates of my house were locked in the most rigorous hours of slumber, and I determined, flushed as I was with hope and triumph, to venture in my new shape, as far as to my bedroom. I crossed the yard, wherein the constellations looked down upon me I could have thought with wonder, the first creature of that sort, that their unsleeping vigilance had yet disclosed to them. I stole through the corridors, a stranger in my own house, and coming to my room I saw for the first time the appearance of Edward Hyde. I must here speak by theory alone, saying not that which I know, but that which I supposed to be most probable. The evil side of my nature, to which I had now transferred the stamping efficacy, was less robust and less developed than the good, which I had just opposed. Again in the course of my life which had been, after all, nine-tenths a life of effort virtue and control, it had been much less exercised and much less exhausted. And hence, as I think, it came about that Edward Hyde was so much smaller, sleighter, and younger than Henry Jekyll.  Evil besides, which I must still believe to be the lethal side of man, had left on that body an imprint of deformity and decay. And yet, when I looked upon that ugly idol in the glass, I was conscious of no repugnance, rather a leap of welcome. This, too, was myself. It seemed natural and human. In my eyes it bore a livelier image of the spirit. It seemed more express and single than the imperfect and divided countenance I had been hitherto accustomed to call mine. And in so far I was doubtless right. I have observed that when I wore the semblance of Edward Hyde, none could come near me at first without a visible misgiving of the flesh. This, as I take it, was because all human beings, as we meet them, are commingled out of good and evil, and Edward Hyde alone in the ranks of mankind, was pure evil. I lingered for a moment at the mirror. The second and conclusive experiment had yet to be attempted. It yet remained to be seen if I had lost my identity beyond redemption and must flee before daylight from a house that was no longer mine. And hurrying back to my cabinet, I once more prepared and drank the cup, once more suffered the pangs of dissolution, and came to myself once more with the character, the stature and the face of Henry Jekyll. That night I had come to the fatal crossroads. Had I approached my discovery in a more noble spirit, had I risked the experiment while under the empire of generous or pious aspirations, all must have been otherwise. And from these agonies of death and birth, I had come forth an angel instead of a fiend. The drug had no discriminating action. It was neither diabolical nor divine. But it shook the doors of the prison-house of my disposition. And like the captives of Philippi, that which stood within ran forth. At that time my virtue slumbered. My evil kept awake by ambition, was alert and swift to seize the occasion. And the thing that was projected was Edward Hyde. Hence, although I had now two characters, as well as two appearances, one was wholly evil, and the other was still the old Henry Jekyll. That in Congress compound of whose reformation and improvement I had already learned to despair. The movement was thus wholly toward the worse. Even at that time I had not conquered my aversions to the dryness of a life of study. I would still be merrily disposed at times, and as my pleasures were, to say the least, undignified, and I was not only well known and highly considered, but growing towards the elderly man. This incoherency of my life was daily growing more unwelcome. It was on this side that my new power tempted me, until I fell in slavery. I had but to drink the cup, to doff at once the body of the noted professor, and to assume like a thick cloak that of Edward Hyde. I smiled at the notion. It seemed to me at the time to be humorous, and I made my preparations with the most studious care. I took and furnished that house in Soho, to which Hyde was tracked by the police, and engaged as a housekeeper a creature whom I knew well to be silent and unscrupulous. On the other side, I announced to my servants that a Mr. Hyde, whom I described, was to have full liberty and power about my house in the square, and to parry mishap, I even called and made myself a familiar object in my second character. I next drew up that will to which you so much objected, so that if anything befell me in the person of Dr. Jekyll, I could enter on that of Edward Hyde without pecuniary loss. And thus fortified, as I supposed on every side, I began to profit by the strange immunities of my position. Men have before hired bravos to transact their crimes, while their own person in reputation sat under shelter. I was the first that ever did so for his pleasures. I was the first that could plod in the public eye with a load of genial respectability, and in a moment like a schoolboy, strip off these lendings and spring headlong into the sea of liberty. But for me, in my impenetrable mantle, the safety was complete. Think of it. I did not even exist. Let me but escape into my laboratory door, give me but a second or two to mix and swallow the draft that I had always standing ready.  And there in his stead, quietly at home, trimming the midnight lamp in his study, a man who could afford to laugh at suspicion, would be Henry Jekyll. The pleasures which I made haste to seek in my disguise were, as I have said, undignified. I would scarce use a harder term. But in the hands of Edward Hyde, they soon began to turn toward the monstrous. When I would come back from these excursions, I was often plunged into a kind of wonder at my vicarious depravity. This familiar that I called out of my own soul and sent forth alone to do his good pleasure, was a being inherently malign and villainous. His every act and thought centred on self, drinking pleasure with bestial avidity, from any degree of torture to another, relentless like a man of stone. Henry Jekyll stood at times aghast before the acts of Edward Hyde. But the situation was apart from ordinary laws, and insidiously relaxed the grasp of conscience. It was Hyde, after all, and Hyde alone it was guilty. Jekyll was no worse. He woke again to his good qualities seemingly unimpaired. He would even make haste where it was possible to undo the evil done by Hyde, and thus his conscience slumbered. Into the details of the infamy at which I thus connived, for even now I can scarce grant that I committed it, I have no design of entering. I mean but to point out the warnings and the successive steps with which my chastisement approached. I met with one accident which, as it brought on no consequence, I shall know more than mention. An act of cruelty to a child aroused against me the anger of a passer-by whom I recognized the other day in the person of your kinsman. The doctor and the child's family joined him. There were moments when I feared for my life. And at last, in order to pacify their too-just resentment, Edward Hyde had to bring them to the door, and pay them in a check drawn in the name of Henry Jekyll. But this danger was easily eliminated from the future by opening an account at another bank in the name of Edward Hyde himself. And when, by sloping my own hand backward, I had supplied my double with a signature, I thought I sat beyond the reach of fate. Some two months before the murder of Sir Danvers, I had been out for one of my adventures, had returned at a late hour, and woke the next day in bed with somewhat odd sensations. It was in vain I looked about me. In vain I saw the decent furniture and tall proportions of my room in the square. In vain that I recognized the pattern of the bed-curtains and the design of the mahogany frame. Some things still kept insisting that I was not where I was, that I had not wakened where I seemed to be, but in the little room in Soho where I was accustomed to sleep in the body of Edward Hyde. I smiled myself, and in my psychological way began lazily to inquire into the elements of this illusion, occasionally even as I did so, dropping back into a comfortable morning-dose.  Now the hand of Henry Jekyll, as you have often remarked, was professional in shape and size. It was large, firm, white, and comely. But the hand which I now saw clearly enough in the yellow sunlight of a mid-London morning, lying half-shot on the bed-clothes, was lean, quarter, knuckly, of a dusky pallor and thickly shaded with a swart growth of hair. It was the hand of Edward Hyde. I must have stared upon it for near half a minute, sunk as I was in the mere stupidity of wonder, before terror woke up in my breast as sudden and startling as the crash of symbols, and bounding from my bed I rushed to the mirror. At the sight that met my eyes my blood was changed into something exquisitely thin and icy. Yes, I had gone to bed, Henry Jekyll. I had awakened, Edward Hyde. How was this to be explained, I asked myself. And then, with another bound of terror, how was it to be remedied? It was well on in the morning, the servants were up, all my drugs were in the cabinet, a long journey down two pairs of stairs, through the back passage, across the open courtyard and through the anatomical theatre, from where I was then standing horror-struck. It might indeed be possible to cover my face, but of what use was that when I was unable to conceal the alterations in my stature? And then, with an overpowering sweetness of relief, it came back upon my mind that the servants were already used to the coming and going of my second self. I had soon dressed as well as I was able in the clothes of my own size, had soon passed through the house, where Bradshaw stared and drew back at seeing Mr. Hyde at such an hour and in such a strange array. And ten minutes later Dr. Jekyll had returned to his own shape and was sitting down with a darkened brow to make a faint of breakfasting. Small indeed was my appetite. This inexplicable incident, this reversal of my previous experience seemed like the Babylonian finger on the wall to be spelling out the letters of my judgment, and I began to reflect more seriously than ever before on the issues and possibilities of my double existence. That part of me which I had the power of projecting had lately been much exercised and nourished. It had seemed to me of late, as though the body of Edward Hyde had grown in stature. As though when I wore that form I were conscious of a more generous tide of blood. And I began to spy a danger that if this were much prolonged the balance of my nature might be permanently overthrown. The power of voluntary change be forfeited, and the character of Edward Hyde become irrevocably mine. The power of the drug had not always been equally displayed. Once very early in my career it had totally failed me. Since then I had been obliged on more than one occasion to double and once with infinite risk of death to treble the amount. And these rare uncertainties had cast hitherto the sole shadow on my contentment. Now, however, and in the light of that morning's accident, I was led to remark that whereas in the beginning the difficulty had been to throw off the body of Jackal, it had of late gradually but decidedly transferred itself to the other side. All things, therefore, seemed to point to this, that I was slowly losing hold of my original and better self and becoming slowly incorporated with my second and worse. Between these two I now felt I had to choose. My two natures had memory in common, but all other faculties were most unequally shared between them. Jackal, who was composite, now with the most sensitive apprehensions, now with a greedy gusto, projected and shared in the pleasures and adventures of Hyde. But Hyde was indifferent to Jackal. Or but remembered him as the mountain bandit remembers the cavern in which he conceals himself from pursuit. Jackal had more than a father's interest. Hyde had more than a son's indifference. To cast my lot with Jackal was to die to those appetites which I had long secretly indulged and had of late begun to pamper. To cast it in with Hyde was to die to a thousand interests and aspirations and to become, at a blow and forever, despised and friendless. The bargain might appear unequal, but there was still another consideration in the scales. For while Jackal would suffer smartingly in the fires of abstinence, Hyde would not even be conscious of all that he had lost. Strange as my circumstances were, the terms of this debate are as old and commonplace as man. Much the same inducements and alarms cast the die for any tempted and trembling sinner. And it fell out with me, as it falls with so vast a majority of my fellows, that I chose the better part and was found wanting in the strength to keep it. Yes, I preferred the elderly and discontented doctor, surrounded by friends and cherishing honest hopes, and bade a resolute farewell to the liberty, the comparative youth, the light step, leaping impulses and secret pleasures that I had enjoyed in the disguise of Hyde. I made this choice perhaps with some unconscious reservation. For I neither gave up the house in Soho, nor destroyed the clothes of Edward Hyde, which still lay ready in my cabinet. For two months, however, I was true to my determination. For two months I led a life of such severity as I had never before attained to, and enjoyed the compensations of an approving conscience. But time began at last to obliterate the freshness of my alarm. The praises of conscience began to grow into a thing of course. I began to be tortured with throes and longings, as of Hyde's struggling after freedom, and at last, in an hour of moral weakness, I once again compounded and swallowed the transforming draft. I do not suppose that when a drunkard reasons with himself upon his vice, he is once out of five hundred times affected by the dangers that he runs through his brutish physical insensibility. Neither had I long as I had considered my position made enough allowance for the complete moral insensibility and insensate readiness to evil, which were the leading characters of Edward Hyde. Yet it was by these that I was punished. My devil had been long caged, he came out roaring. I was conscious, even when I took the draft, of a more unbridled, a more furious propensity to ill. It must have been this, I suppose, that stirred in my soul that tempest of impatience with which I listened to the civilities of my unhappy victim.  But I had voluntarily stripped myself of all those balancing instincts by which even the worst of us continues to walk with some degree of steadiness among temptations, and in my case, to be tempted, however slightly, was to fall.  With a transport of glee I mauled the unresisting body, tasting delight from every blow. And it was not till weariness had begun to succeed that I was suddenly, in the top fit of my delirium, struck through the heart by a cold thrill of terror. A misdispersed, I saw my life to be forfeit, and fled from the scene of these excesses, at once glorying and trembling, my lust of evil gratified and stimulated. My love of life screwed the topmost peg. I ran to the house in Soho, and to make assurance doubly sure, destroyed my papers. Thence I set out through the lamplit streets, in the same divided ecstasy of mind, gloating on my crime, light-headedly devising others in the future, and yet still hastening, and still harkening in my wake for the steps of the Avenger. Hyde had a song upon his lips as he compounded the draft, and as he drank it, pledged the dead man. The pangs of transformation had not done tearing him, before Henry Jekyll, with streaming tears of gratitude and remorse, had fallen upon his knees, and lifted his clasped hands to God. The veil of self-indulgence was rent from a head to foot. I saw my life as a whole. I followed it up from the days of childhood, when I had walked with my father's hand, and through the self-denying toils of my professional life, to arrive again and again, with the same sense of unreality, at the damned horrors of the evening. I could have screamed aloud. I sought with tears and prayers to smother down the crowd of hideous images and sounds with which my memory swarmed against me, and still, between the petitions, the ugly face of my iniquity stared into my soul. As the acuteness of this remorse began to die away, it was succeeded by a sense of joy. The problem of my conduct was solved. Hyde was thenceforth impossible. Whether I would or not, I was now confined to the better part of my existence. And oh, how I rejoiced to think of it! With what willing humility I embraced anew the restrictions of natural life. With what sincere renunciation I locked the door by which I had so often gone and come, and ground the key under my heel. The next day came the news that the murder had not been overlooked, that the guilt of Hyde was patent to the world, and that the victim was a man in high public estimation. It was not only a crime, it had been a tragic folly. I think I was glad to know it. I think I was glad to have my better impulses thus buttressed and guarded by the terrors of the scaffold. Jackal was now my city of refuge. Let but Hyde peep out an instant, and the hands of all men would be raised to take and slay him. I resolved in my future conduct to redeem the past, and I can say with honesty that my resolve was fruitful of some good. You know yourself how earnestly in the last months of the last year I labored to relieve suffering. You know that much was done for others, and that the days passed quietly, almost happily for myself. Nor can I truly say that I wearied of this beneficent and innocent life. I think instead that I daily enjoyed it more completely. But I was still cursed with my duality of purpose. And as the first edge of my penitence wore off, the lower side of me, so long indulged, so recently chained down, began to growl for license. Not that I dreamed of resuscitating Hyde, the bare idea of that would startle me to frenzy. No, it was in my own person that I was once more tempted to trifle with my conscience. And it was as an ordinary secret sinner that I at last fell before the assaults of temptation. There comes an end to all things.  And yet I was not alarmed. The fall seemed natural, like a return to the old days before I had made my discovery. It was a fine, clear January day, wet underfoot where the frost had melted, but cloudless overhead. And the regents' park was full of winter chirpings and sweet with spring odors. I sat in the sun on a bench, the animal within me licking the chops of memory, the spiritual side a little drowsed, promising subsequent penitence. But not yet moved to begin. After all, I reflected, I was like my neighbors. And then I smiled, comparing myself with other men. Comparing my active goodwill with the lazy cruelty of their neglect. And at the very moment of that vinglorious thought a qualm came over me, a horrid nausea and the most deadly shuddering. These passed away and left me faint. And then, as in its turn faintness subsided, I began to be aware of a change in the temper of my thoughts, a greater boldness, a contempt of danger, a solution of the bonds of obligation. I looked down, my clothes hung formlessly on my shrunken limbs, the hand that lay on my knee was corded in Harry. I was once more Edward Hyde. A moment before I had been safe of all men's respect, wealthy, beloved, the cloth laying for me in the dining-room at home. And now, I was the common quarry of mankind, hunted, houseless, a known murderer, thrall to the gallows. My reason wavered, but it did not fail me utterly. I have more than once observed that in my second character, my faculties seemed sharpened to a point, and my spirits more tensely elastic. Thus it came about that where Jekyll perhaps might have succumbed, Hyde rose to the importance of the moment. My drugs were in one of the presses of my cabinet. How was I to reach them? That was the problem that crushing my temples in my hands I set myself to solve. The laboratory door I had closed. If I sought to enter by the house, my own servants would consign me to the gallows. I saw I must employ another hand, and thought of Lanyon. How was he to be reached? How persuaded? Supposing that I escaped capture in the streets, how was I to make my way into his presence? And how should I, an unknown and displeasing visitor, prevail on the famous physician to rifle the study of his colleague Dr. Jekyll? Then I remembered that of my original character, one part remained to me. I could write my own hand, and once I had conceived that kindling spark, the way that I must follow became lightened up from end to end. Thereupon I arranged my clothes as best I could, and summoning a passing handsome, drove to an hotel in Portland Street, the name of which I chanced to remember. At my appearance, which was indeed comical enough, however tragic of fate these garments covered, the driver could not conceal his mirth. I gnashed my teeth upon him with a gust of devilish fury, and the smile withered from his face, happily for him, yet more happily for myself, for in another instant I had certainly dragged him from his perch. At the inn as I entered, I looked about me with so black a countenance as made the attendance tremble. Not a look did they exchange in my presence, but obsequiously took my orders, led me to a private room, and brought me wherewithal to write. Hide in danger of his life was a creature new to me, shaken with an ordinate anger, strung to the pitch of murder, lusting to inflict pain. Yet the creature was astute, mastered his fury with a great effort of the will, composed his two important letters, one to Lanyon and one to Poole, and that he might receive actual evidence of their being posted, sent them out with directions that they should be registered. Thence forward he sat all day over the fire in the private room, gnawing his nails. There he dined, sitting alone with his fears, the waiter visibly quailing before his eyes, and thence, when the night was fully come, he set forth in the corner of a closed cab, and was driven to and fro about the streets of the city. He, I say, I cannot say I.  And when at last thinking the driver had begun to grow suspicious, he discharged the cab and ventured on foot, attired in his misfitting clothes, an object marked out for observation, into the midst of the nocturnal passengers. These two base passions raged within him like a tempest. He walked fast, hunted by his fears, chattering to himself, skulking through the less frequented thoroughfares, counting the minutes that still divided him from midnight. Once a woman spoke to him, offering I think a box of lights. He smote her in the face and she fled. When I came to myself at Lanyon's, the horror of my old friend perhaps affected me somewhat. I do not know. It was at least but a drop in the sea, to the abhorrence with which I looked back upon these hours. A change had come over me. It was no longer the fear of the gallows. It was the horror of being hide that wracked me. I received Lanyon's condemnation partly in a dream. It was partly in a dream that I came home to my own house and got into bed. I slept after the prostration of the day, with a stringent and profound slumber, which not even the nightmares that wrung me could avail to break. I woke in the morning shaken, weakened, but refreshed. I still hated and feared the thought of the brute that slept within me, and I had not of course forgotten the appalling dangers of the day before. But I was once more at home, in my own house and close to my drugs, and gratitude for my escape shown so strong in my soul that it almost rivaled the brightness of hope. I was stepping leisurely across the court after breakfast, drinking the chill of the air with pleasure, when I was seized again with those indescribable sensations that heralded the change. And I had but the time to gain the shelter of my cabinet before I was once again raging and freezing with the passions of hide. It took on this occasion a double dose to recall me to myself, and a last six hours after, as I sat looking sadly in the fire, the pangs returned, and the drug had to be readministered. In short, from that day forth, it seemed only by a great effort as of gymnastics, and only under the immediate stimulation of the drug that I was able to wear the countenance of Jackal. At all hours of the day and night, I would be taken with the premonitory shudder. Above all, if I slept, or even dozed for a moment in my chair, it was always as hide that I awakened. Under the strain of this continually impending doom, and by the sleeplessness to which I now condemned myself, I, even beyond what I had thought possible to man, I became, in my own person, a creature eaten up and emptied by fever, languidly weak in both body and mind, and solely occupied by one thought, the horror of my other self. But when I slept, or when the virtue of the medicine wore off, I would leap almost without transition, for the pangs of transformation grew daily less marked, into the possession of a fancy brimming with images of terror, a soul boiling with causeless hatreds, and a body that seemed not strong enough to contain the raging energies of life. The powers of hide seemed to have grown with the sickliness of Jackal, and certainly the hate that now divided them was equal on each side. With Jackal, it was a thing of vital instinct. He had now seen the full deformity of that creature that shared with him some of the phenomena of consciousness, and was co-heir with him to death, and beyond these links of community, which in themselves made the most poignant part of his distress, he thought of hide, for all his energy of life, as of something not only hellish, but inorganic. This was the shocking thing, that the slime of the pit seemed to utter cries and voices, that the amorphous dust gesticulated and sinned. That what was dead, and had no shape, could usurp the offices of life. And this again, that that insurgent horror was knit to him closer than a wife, closer than an eye, likeaged in his flesh, where he heard it mutter and felt it struggle to be born, and at every hour of weakness, and in the confidence of slumber, prevailed against him, and deposed him out of life. The hatred of hide for Jackal was of a different order.  But he loathed the necessity. He loathed the despondency into which Jackal was now fallen, and he resented the dislike with which he himself was regarded. Hence the ape-like tricks that he would play me, scrawling in my own hand blasphemies on the pages of my books, burning the letters and destroying the portrait of my father. And indeed, had it not been for his fear of death, he would long ago have ruined himself in order to involve me in the ruin. But his love of me is wonderful. I go further. I, who sicken and freeze at the mere thought of him, when I recall the objection and passion of his attachment, and when I know how he fears my power to cut him off by suicide, I find it in my heart to pity him. It is useless, and the time awfully fails me to prolong this description. No one has ever suffered such torments, let that suffice. And yet even to these, habit-brought, no. Not alleviation, but a certain callousness of soul, a certain acquiescence of despair. And my punishment might have gone on for years. But for the last calamity which is now fallen, and which has finally severed me from my own face and nature, my provision of the salt, which had never been renewed since the date of the first experiment, began to run low. I sent out for a fresh supply and mixed the draft. The abolition followed, and the first change of colour. Not the second. I drank it, and it was without efficiency. You will learn from Poole how I have had London ransacked. It was in vain. And I am now persuaded that my first supply was impure, and that it was that unknown impurity which lent efficacy to the draft. About a week has passed, and I am now finishing this statement under the influence of the last of the old powders. This, then, is the last time, short of a miracle, that Henry Jekyll can think his own thoughts, or see his own face, now how sadly altered, in the glass. Nor must I delay too long to bring my writing to an end. For if my narrative has hitherto escaped destruction, it has been by a combination of great prudence and great good luck. Should the throes of change take me in the act of writing it, Hyde will tear it in pieces. But if some time shall have elapsed after I have laid it by, his wonderful selfishness and circumscription to the moment will probably save it once again from the action of his ape-like spite. And indeed the doom that is closing on us both has already changed and crushed him. Half an hour from now, when I shall again and forever re-indue that hated personality, I know how I shall sit shuddering and weeping in my chair, or continue, with the most strained and fear-struck ecstasy of listening, to pace up and down this room, my last earthly refuge, and give ear to every sound of menace. Will Hyde die upon the scaffold, or will he find courage to release himself at the last moment? God knows, I am careless. This is my true hour of death, and what is to follow concerns another than myself.


We demystify what goes on behind the therapy room door. Join us on this voyage of discovery and co-creative conversations. This is The Therapy Show, behind closed doors podcast with Bob Cook and Jackie Jones. Welcome back to episode number 28. I'm Jackie Jones and I'm the co-host with the wonderful Mr Bob Cook on the therapy show behind closed doors and following on from last week's about boundaries, we're going to be looking at the use of the self in the therapy room and self-disclosure. How much do we disclose and how much do we not? And not no wonderful topic. It is, it's right up my alley this because but let's start at what we mean by therapy, what we mean by cancelling and which disciplines have been trained in. So for example, if you were trained psychodynamically, which basically means, I mean, the psychodynamic therapy is listening, this is a very basic definition. So don't ring in. But basically means how the past is reenacted in the present. That's why it's called psychodynamic because of the psychological dynamics of this, how the past is played out or enacted is the word in the present. Now, if you're trained in that particular school, then you would have whole training on how to use self-disclosure and there'd be a frame of reference for understanding that. If you're trained in the person's centered mode of therapy or stroke counselling, it's a completely different type of therapy where self-disclosure is an order of the day. So I think it depends what training school, if you're trained in a CBT, it's a completely different way of thinking as well. If you're trained in transaction analysis, now it's a psychodynamic model. And the way that I was trained by Richard Erskine, I was trained by the early T.A. Thepis, who thought psychodynamically and it was sort of a very developmental model. So then I will naturally have a whole frame of reference about using the self and disclosure of the self and the therapeutic relationship. Whereas I think other students from other models might have a different frame. Yes. I just wanted to say that because I don't want to come from a position of, you know, this, this, this, what we're going to talk about is the only way of doing therapy. But in this psychodynamic and transaction analysis way of training, it's often seen as a really important way to do therapy. Yeah. I, I did a year of person centered counselling. And that was part of the process that I didn't like, that I was kind of supposed to leave part of me outside the therapy room door. And I didn't necessarily like that. No, because why didn't you? Well, if it's relevant to the session and relevant to the client, you know, and I can be empathic with them because I've been through something similar or show an understanding of that in the room, I see that as quite a positive experience. Obviously not taking over the session and talking about myself for 50 minutes, but if it's relevant, I think I should be in the room completely as opposed to leaving part of me outside. I suppose the question would be, what is relevant? So, so for example, in your frame of reference of what you're thinking as a therapist, you're making a decision all the time, what is relevant and what isn't relevant in the context of how you see therapy to cure? Yes. Yeah. Yeah. So I think that's an important one, because some other therapists from different disciplines may see things in a very different ways. So that last bit you added on, which I thought was crucial, very crucial. And he said it sort of as a, I don't know if he's just, he smiled when he said, of course, that's not where I talk forever and take over the session. But if you go to some planet, it's certainly in person centred. It's the fact, by actually talking at all, maybe, is taking the space away from the client to speak. Yeah. So I think it depends what you're trained and what your thought process is around. And I, using the self and psychotherapy, I'll clearly say where I come from in this. I come from a psychodynamic view. And that is the past is often enacted out in the present. So clients coming to therapy will act out with me, often the traumas, confusion, difficulties they've had in relationships. And by using myself, I can provide a different type of object if you like. So the person can get a different type of experience. Yeah. What a wonderful way of putting it. Yeah. When you were saying that then, because I know you've said about a frame of reference and everything, I think that that's one of the things that I found a bit confusing about all of it is if I'm not fully in the room, then how can I have my frame of reference? But and, well, I'll be a devil's devil's advocate, or I'll have a as always go for it, Bob. No, I'll get a response to that. And that is, is your frame of reference useful in any frame in any way you look at it to affect cure? Now, some people might say, well, that's your frame of reference. But bringing your frame of reference in, you're providing contamination. And you're actually the person who's selecting and taking away from the space of the client's empowerment. So it depends, I think, on what you see cure is, how to have the best way to listen to cure, and usually goes back to where you were trained. Yeah. Yeah, I don't, I, I kind of relate it to being authentically me and, you know, hand on heart, I can only see things through my own frame of reference course. And it's you. It's fake if it's anything else. Well, one way to look at it. I think you have to go back to ask yourself, right, really, what, what role or what do you see yourself as doing as the inverted commas, psychotherapist in the room? Now, if it is to be real, authentic, less, more transparent, being, or actually word use less fake, or whatever the words were used, then how does that affect cure for the person opposite you? Now, I'm sure you can respond back to that. And I think a bigger question is, that's the way you may see it. But is it the way the client sees this? So when the client walks in the room from beginning to the end, they're living in the world of projections. And if anybody, this thing projection is what you put on to the other person. Yeah. Right. So I'm here, Jack is there with the therapist, the client comes in from the moment they open the door, they are going to project on to me or project on to Jackie in the sense, their own frame, their own history, their own experiences and what and how they expect you to act or not act. And according to their history, they'll slot you into that. Now, by being the most genuine person in the world, the most friendly person in the world, I'm talking about the therapist here, for somebody who's had a very harmful dysfunctional history, that actually could be more harmful than good. In other words, they might actually see that as a big trick to seduce you so that you can X, X, X, X. So I think it's about what the therapist sees as the methods to affect your. So by being yourself in the room, that's fine at one level. What does it mean for the therapist is another question? Sorry, what does it mean for the client? Yeah, never question altogether? Yeah. Now, if you go back to Freud, this is a long time ago, over a century ago now, his view of psychoanalysis way before the world of psychodynamic and therapy and everything else, was that the, the, the, the therapist shouldn't bring their self into the equation at all. But in fact, if you went and looked at psycho therapy psychoanalysis books before 1940, yeah, nearly all the books would be about the therapist staying out of the relationship and not using their sense of self at all. Why? Because the therapist needs to be out of the equation so they're not contaminating the field. They're allowing the client to have the space to just free associate, just talk about anything they want to know that that conversation will come the material of healing that is needed. And the therapist needs to keep out of the picture. Now, we're now in a place in 2000, you know, now 21, where it's very different in many ways from the early psychoanalysis and psycho therapy and we've evolved to what is often called self psychology. And you go to the bookshops, or Amazon or whatever, we've got online now. And the majority of the books, third books might be the complete opposite, which is about how you actually bring yourself into the relationship in the service of cure. So we've had a complete revolution in how we see healing. And probably I would say 1990 ish, called often called the relational turn in psycho therapy, where many, many books started to write about using the self in the relationship in the effect of cure was the most effective way forward. Yeah. So we've had a revolution in the idea of using the self in the therapy relationship from Freud to where we are today. I quite like the revolution. Yeah, I see it as a co-creation in the, do you know what I mean? It's co-creating a relationship. I see my interactions with other people, whether that's in the therapy room or outside of the therapy room, it's 50% me and 50% them, that adult to adult, we are. Though Jackie, should it be? Co-creating question is, should it be in the therapy room or outside of the therapy? Should it be? I think so. Well, here's another way of looking at this. If you saw therapy around empowerment, helping a client develop self agency, helping the client develop self confidence, helping the client assert themselves. If you are taking 50% of the conversation, how does that help? No, I didn't say 50% of the conversation. What did you mean then when you said that? I think we co-create the therapeutic relationship together. It's, it's with you, but I'm saying there is another view. Oh, yeah, yeah, 100%. You co-create a relationship. I agree with you. And I think through the co-creative relationship, we can start providing a type of healing, which gives the new experiences to the clients, which come from quite a dysfunctional relationship. So that is my style of therapy. And there is other views on this. Yeah. I think another view on this is keep out of the relationship. Yeah. No, I hear you said, and I thought I was great, we said, where you prefer the co-created one and I do as well. But I think it's important to look at the heritage of where we've come from. Yeah, yeah, yeah. But I think you touched on it earlier on. I see that more as the psychoanalytic bit that I, I feel uncomfortable with that because it's kind of like they're in charge and they've got all the answers and the clients. Yeah, that was for you. Yeah, yeah, I would know that lying on the couch and yeah, so I can go away and I'll analyse you. Psychoanalysis. Yeah. Well, I tell you what I like about that. Study of the unconscious. And the idea that isn't just a co-created relationship. It's also two unconscious forces coming together. Oh, interesting. It's a different type of relationship. Yeah, because when people talk about relationships in psychotherapy, I think, well, what relationships are we talking about? No, we could be talking about the relationship of probatory age now, or we could talk about the relationships from our side of the therapy room, or we could talk the coming together of two unconscious processes. Now, so psychoanalysis was all about the interpretation and the analysis of the unconscious. But where I agree with you completely, which is, and I don't, I don't agree with this either. It was from an expert one at one down position. Well, I'm much, much more a believer in terms of healing and effective cure is to look at the third beauty relationship between the therapist and client is a co-creative relationship. And out of that, getting new more, getting more new healing experiences, which the client can actually grow for. Yeah. So I'm more on your side of the fence. One of the problems I have though about this is if the therapist coming from that frame of reference has it also unconsciously might be coming from an ego driven place, what you might want to call narcissism or unresolved narcissism. So in the co-creative relationship, it's led by them rather than created code in a co-created way. Yeah, I'd like to think early on in the therapeutic relationship, I'm, you know, looking for and being aware of changes in dynamic on whatever the conversation is, whether there's a shift in ego states or whether there's a shift in them, what the conversation was about at that time, whether it's making them feel vulnerable or blame or share all those sort of things. It's on a different level, if that makes sense. Yeah, because sometimes, you know, clients might not want me to take up any time in the session, which is absolutely OK. Yeah, it's absolutely OK. What I did like was that you were you were talking about, I think you were talking about how you are thinking clinically about and I think it's really important this that you're thinking clinically about what's happening in the relationship, what you may bring into the relationship and what's going on in the relationship in the service of cure. Yes, yeah, that's very important because otherwise people give a license for therapists to just talk about anything. Yeah, now, so for example, I think if a therapist is going to disclose aspects of themselves or their own histories or bring their sense of self into the work for a lot of reasons, they need to do it from a clinical frame in the service of the client. Yeah, that's a big, big belief of mine. Yeah, because I've had clients in the past that are really good at avoiding certain subjects by asking questions about how's my week been and how's how am I doing and how and it's kind of like a really good way of let's divert off the topic of conversation because I'm feeling uncomfortable. And I will point that out to them. And you could also another clinical way of doing this. You might think you want to go along with it. So I think it's about the therapist through the contrast, through understanding how a person enacts out their history in the relationship with the therapist, I think means that the therapist can think clinically about what they do next. Yeah. So for example, let me take that example of what you just said. So somebody starts to manipulate you or distract you or displace you because they don't want to talk about their depression or they don't want to talk about their denial or they don't want to talk about their trauma or they don't want to. So you think clinically, I don't know if you will do, you wouldn't, but I understand many people would and I might as well would be, well, I think I'm going to bring that into the person's awareness that there's a distraction or displacements or moving away from what we need to talk about. So I'll do that. Now that's a very positive clinical thinking. For many ways I'm thinking about how you do it. Important though. Yes. Yeah. Because you may do it in a way which might elicit a different level of trauma altogether, a much deeper level to do with shame, do with early traumas. Yeah. So I think as long as it's thought out clinically how you use yourself to sense yourself in the service of the client, I think we're onto a winner. Yeah. And that comes with time and building a relationship with the client. I can think of one particular instance. Absolutely. Were a client, I don't want to break any confidentiality or anything, but a client, I was feeling the urge to comfort a client. And I knew from, you know, the history that we had together that the client found it very difficult to ask for her needs to be met. And I can remember in that moment thinking, do I offer comfort or is that buying into the scripted stuff of not being able to ask for their needs to be met? And I can remember in my head being in a bit of a turmoil as to what to do with that. Yeah. But that's good what you're talking about. But that's the kind of situation that I see is for the cure of the client. Rather than just jumping in and doing it, there's kind of something else going on for me. Am I reinforcing the script by jumping in when really I would like to encourage them to ask for their needs to be met? Yeah. So that's great in my book, because it means you're thinking about how you would use your sense of self. Yeah. Service of the client. Yeah. So on the same page that you're going to be able to extend by a science fit. God, I'm glad. Let's turn this conversation to something very, very important. I don't think we can do a podcast on talk about how we'd use our sense of self or not the therapeutic relationship. If we did not talk about the concept of transfers. Yeah. Do you agree with me or? Yes. 100%. So how do you respond to that? Um. Transference is the therapist's reaction or response to something out of transference, but transfers itself. How do you say? Well, I go on. Tell me how do I say I do it from my frame of reference? How I see transfers is created relationship. There's two parts of transfers. This one will be called transfers to projection of the, um, what the client will transfer onto the therapist. Yeah. In other words, when you frown like that, you remind me of when I was three talking to my father. Yeah. Let's make the father on you. And then there's the response to the transference. So my countertransference to that might be. Uh, well, I'm really angry.  So the therapist's response is the countertransference. And that both makes up the transfer. Both those parts make up the transferential encounter. Yeah. Now, why that is important is if you can analyze, step into or use the transference, you can play out in a different way what happened or never happened in the person's history. So you can allow them to experience a set of experiences in a different way and write their own script in a different way to get a different outcome today. Yeah. Is, is that dependent on them verbalizing and letting you know what's going on? Or is that a case of when I was talking earlier on about looking for a shift, some things, the dynamics have changed somehow. Well, I don't think the clients needed any form shape or unless they want to have some magic therapy, need to talk about transference or what's happening in a, in the way that we're talking about it now because I'm talking about it for the podcast listeners, but the clients don't need to know any of that stuff. But I think for the therapist, they need to think about who am I for the client and who is the client for them. So in other words, they need to think about when they're in a relationship with the person in front of them, who they are for that client. And I think also to think about who the client is for them. By understanding those unconscious transferential processes, they will then start to think about, well, when will or might I step into the, or use myself in the therapeutic relationship for affecting different experiences. But unless they start thinking about who am I for the clients or who the client is for me, they're not starting to think unconsciously, are they? They're starting to think about, or they might just start to think about things in the here and now rather than what's being played out in the here and now. Yeah. If that yes. Yeah. Yeah. So the whole of psychodynamic theory is built on what I've just said to you. In other words, the past is reenacted in the present. So to understand that, if the therapist thinks about who am I for the client, the halfway there, aren't they? Yeah. Yeah. Because another way of thinking that is this is I'm never Bob Cook. I'm simply a representation of the client's projection from the past. Well, that's a bit heavy. But yeah, I'm never Jackie Jones. Yeah. I'm simply a representation of somebody or quality from the person's past. Yeah. Now, if their past was particularly a disturbed one, then they're going to project on to you and enact out with you those experiences, which were perhaps quite negative from the past, and they're going to attempt, even from an unconscious place to manipulate you to be that person. Yeah. Now, this is where using yourself might come in from a psychodynamic way, because if you start thinking that way, you've got several choices, you can allow yourself to be manipulated from an adult place, actually get a relationship in a different manner so that you can allow the person to go to a healing place and get a different types of experiences. Or you can actually do something very different, which is confront the transference and say, well, I'm not your father, or you could do many other things. But you are actually thinking about how you might use this sense of self to allow the person to have a different experience in the past from what they're attempting to enact out with you. Yeah. Because if you allow them to just enact out their past experiences onto the relationship with you, you're allowing them to repeat history. Yeah. On TA terms, you're actually unconsciously supporting them, carrying out their familiar script and games with the same script outcome. Yeah. It's just reinforcing it. So if somebody's been sexually abused, therapist, the worst thing a therapist can say is can I give you or maybe the worst thing about awareness certainly will be the worst thing that there is. Can I give you a hug? For you, the age you are at 71 or sorry, you're much younger, you're doing it from that adult position. But then they can enact out their past, project onto the therapist and suddenly you're that negative object or abuser. Yeah. So if you don't understand their consciousness, you'll have a different type of therapy. Yeah. And it will and also from this frame of reference, it would the therapist then starts thinking clinically about how they may use their sense of self so that the client has a different set of experiences from what they're attempting to enact out in the present with you. Yeah. Is this to am I losing you? No, no, no, not at all. I thought if I'm losing you, I'm losing you. No, no, it makes perfect sense. It is, you know, that bringing the past into the present and replaying it through transference and my reaction as a therapist to that or my response to it in the therapy room. Yeah, exactly like you say, it can either retraumatise to a certain extent or it can show them a different outcome from it. That example, if I just went in for a hug, that would not be the best. In that sense, thought, yeah, I think very good practice for therapists automatically, if they think, oh, well, I won't go for the client for some reason. Yeah. Yeah. But they say, is it OK if I hug you? Yeah. Now, I think a therapist automatically should say that and they could still go wrong. Yes. Yeah. So, you know, we should have another frame of reference into it. It's how it's seen by the other person. Yeah, you should have another podcast, perhaps we have on our list on the use of touching psychotherapy. Yes. Yeah. Because mostly you would talk about transferential trust, transferential touch. So therapists that might see, well, 10 past nine on two thousand and twenty one in March, whatever the day was, I you know, I thought was important to an end in a way of a positive regard or whatever to give the client a hug. Well, that's that's take it isn't taking into account what could be happening transferentially. Yeah. Yeah. I think I've. Yeah, I don't even sit on the couch with my clients. I'm on a chair and they're usually on the couch. So in order for me to have any physical contact with them, I would have to get up and move towards them or them to me, if that makes sense. Yeah, it's an interesting podcast we should do. It is it is because even as I'm thinking about it now, when we were talking about boundaries and maybe barriers, not only are right when I was seeing clients face to face, I'm in a chair and they're on a couch, but I've also got a law table in between us, which could be seen as a barrier. You know, literally, absolutely. Well, it could be recreating history for some. Yeah. Yeah. Now, it's not what I want to sign this podcast, which is really important. I don't want to deskill people. I want people to think about things from a deeper level and what's happening going or even considering what might be happening in an unconscious place because I believe clients not from an adult place, but from a different younger place will be always attempted to manipulate the therapist to create history for them. Yeah. Because even as you're saying that ultimately, if if we do something different that goes against the scripty stuff that itself, yes, it, you know, can be a forerunner to cure, but it also causes a lot of turmoil for the clients. It can do. And there's a term in transactional analysis like that, but I really like. And it's from a book in 1969. So it's a long time ago. What do you say after you say hello by Eric Byrne with the originator of transactional analysis therapy and he coined this term script backlash? Yes, that that was what I was going to say. It's like, well, what's the point? I've lived my life by this for so long and now you're just shattering it. And yeah. Yeah. And I think that is really need to think about the backlash which will inevitably come when a person attempts to make life changes. Yes. Yeah. That is something I talk quite regular about with clients, particularly in the early, early day. The podcast. Yes. We've got so many. We have the list is getting longer and longer, Bob. So I just I've really enjoyed this one and the one that we did before as well. They've been really interesting. I learned something new every time we have these discussions. So what we're going to be looking at next time is you are for me, Jackie. Say who do I think the Transparency language? Who do you think you might be for me or even, you know, I can ask that for you. You know, you could be, for example, a elder sister that I didn't have. Wow. Yeah, that's what I'm coming. I'd like to really encourage. The podcast listeners to think about it in those terms and to think about, well, who could Jackie be for me? I was like, oh, how could I be for Jackie? Now, why it's important is that you're starting to think about what could be enacted out. Yeah. My attempt to manipulate you into actually continuing the way they're thinking, taking a script playoff and nothing changes. So it's just allowing the other person to think at a deeper level. Yeah. And that that just says it all because it is at a deeper level. It's when you talk about manipulation and things like that, it's not that it's a conscious thing. It's a completely, you know, out of awareness that we all do it to replay our script all the time. Yeah. Yeah, they talk about games, ulterior transactions, repetitive behaviors, scripts, life plans. It's all really to keep the decisions the person made about themselves, others in the world going. Yeah. Now, that's fine. If it's healthy, we'll never see those people. No, no, people that come through the door that have anxiousness, stress, depression, trauma or we could go on and on and on and are having an unhappy life. They're playing out scripts, decisions which aren't healthy. And how the therapist helps the person move those unconscious processes is what therapy is about in my favourite question. This is why I love transactional analysis, Bob. I I love it. Yeah. So thank you for allowing me to talk. I feel I've started to talk about my passion and hobby horse in this podcast. And it comes across in a very positive way. Maybe there's a trans-frenchful part of that. But anyway, we we can discuss that. So we will be back next time with another exciting episode of the therapy talk and close doors. We're going to be looking about effective communication and relationships. Yeah. Coming near Christmas. Yes. Yeah. We might all know that's me presuming things. Yeah. A lot of us might need some support around that. Yeah. At Christmas, all the reconstructed families come together, the pressure we all feel to have a jolly good time and everything. And quite often we see that, well, this is very, very true for me anyway. My long experience of being a therapist that in the first week or second week of January, I hear all the traumatic re-enactments of many Christmases being played out. Yes. I often talk about my mum in that respect, bless her heart. She always says I don't look forward to Christmas. And I'm like, why not? Something bad always happens at Christmas. And I once asked her, how many bad Christmases have you had? She's 80. And she said, well, I can remember this one. And I'm like, you had one bad Christmas. Yeah. And in her head, something bad always happens at Christmas. But alongside that, coming into December and Christmas and everything, I think last year and the pandemic have had an impact on how we connect with people. And, you know, last year wasn't a good Christmas for a lot of people. And is that going to be impact on them this year? Well, it's a podcast I look forward to talking about. Good, good. Right. So I shall see you next time, Bob. Thank you so much. Take care. You too. Bye. Bye. You've been listening to The Therapy Show behind closed doors podcast. We hope you enjoyed the show. Don't forget to subscribe and leave us a review. We'll be back next week with another episode.


With Colored Valley Cooks and today, we're making a delicious homemade broccoli casserole with fresh broccoli, it's cheesy and creamy. It's already boiling, so we're gonna put these here, put the lid on it, and we're going to steam these for 10 minutes, eight to 10 minutes. I think I'll do eight minutes actually. So while we're doing that, the clock says 427, I know about when I should take them off. I'm gonna turn this eye on, and we're going to melt a little butter and saute half of a large onion with a couple of tablespoons of chopped green pepper. I have got three cups of water and I am going to use it. I actually went the other day and they didn't have my nort square bouillon, so I bought this type. You just add a teaspoon in per cup. Go ahead and put this in here. First, I'll tell you in that a little bit while we're making our broth. Make sure you run hot water in this, especially if you're gonna use a tablet. This will melt a lot easier than using the square bouillon. It's the same brand, the same taste. Just easier to work with. All right, there's our cup of broth. There are three cups of broth. We're gonna use three cups of broth. And we're gonna add one cup of milk to this. So it's gonna go up to the four cup mark. Looks like it's about getting ready to steam. So the clock says 429. We're gonna get that off about 437. So I'm just gonna put in just a little tiny bit of red pepper. Just a pinch, really. And you don't have to put that ingredient in if you don't want to. This is Pepperidge Farm Classic Herbs Stuffing Seasoning that seasoned already. So this has got seasoning in it too. We're gonna put about a cup of this, or a cup and a half down in the bottom of here. Cup of that stuffing. That stuffing and a cup of rice in this bowl. Table swings of butter at two minutes left. And we're gonna put in about a quarter cup of flour. And I'm gonna wait just a second so that that flour won't brown just a little bit. We're gonna go ahead and turn our broccoli off and take the lid off of it. Now this next step I'm doing, if you don't want to do this part, then just use a can of cream of chicken soup. But we're kinda just making our own, okay? We're just gonna get it nice and warm and then we're gonna pour it over our rice and our stuffing while we're waiting on that to come to a simmer. I'll put the lid on it, turn it down a little bit. We're gonna grab the sour cream out of the refrigerator and the mayonnaise. We're gonna put in a half cup sour cream and a half cup of mayonnaise. We're gonna put in a cup of cheese. Then you're gonna reserve a cup of cheese for the top of your casserole. It's boiling. Let's get it off here and pour it in our bowl. What you see floating on the top is the stuffing. Then put it in the bottom of the pan. Spread it out evenly. If you wanna add chicken to this dish, it'll be a whole meal. Just make sure you got enough liquid in there for your rice to cook. Now all my rice went down there on one side, it looked like, didn't it? Be careful with that. So stir it up good. And now we're gonna bake this in the oven a good 45 minutes to an hour. I would think it'll probably take an hour because of the rice. Now we're gonna put cheese on the top and get it in the oven. All right, we're gonna get this down here. We'll be back shortly. We're gonna dip into this and it sure smells good. So make sure you keep it in the oven long enough for the rice to get done. Looks delicious. It looks really cheesy and really good. That is packed with flavor, y'all. I think you're really gonna enjoy it. And remember, if you don't wanna take the step to do the gravy part, just use the can of cream of chicken. But make sure you use the broth on the milk so that you'll have enough to cook the rice, liquid to cook the rice. You can tell it's just right. Cheesy and delicious. Thanks for watching Colored Valley Cooks, where we cook like mama did. Oh, casserole's always better with fresh broccoli. You need to cut the stems off really close to the head of the broccoli. And that way you've just got your broccoli tips and not the stalk. This pot is actually my steamer pot, so I can wash these and cook them in the same thing. So you're gonna cut these into smaller pieces. Make sure they're bite-sized. And we're just gonna cook these until they're fork-tender. We're not gonna cook them to death. So we're going to steam them, okay? So I'm just gonna rinse them off. And then we're gonna place these over here. I've got the pot hot already.


For their final series of 2016, the BSU men's hockey team is taking a break from WCHA action to battle top ranked Minnesota Duluth. The 15th ranked Beavers and number one ranked Bulldogs will face off in a home and home series this weekend. BSU has struggled in non-conference actions so far this year, losing all four contests. But they have had UMD's number of late, going 5-0-1 against the Bulldogs in their last six meetings. When we play our best, I think we can beat anyone so we just got to really take this seriously and close out with 2016 on a positive note. We put a lot of emphasis on these games and you want to win your non-conference games. Obviously, it's an area where we struggle this year.  So this weekend is the last weekend before a break so obviously we have to put our best foot forward and try to win some games. If you've enjoyed this segment of Lakeland News, please consider making a tax-deductible contribution to Lakeland Public Television.


This is stock number 11342. We are here at Summit Automotive in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin. You're new and used heavy-duty truck and RAM headquarters. Today we are checking out possibly one of the cleanest 2018 RAM 2500 mega cab short box trucks we've ever had on our lot. This truck has the 6.7 liter Cummins diesel. It has been fully safety and inspected by our service shop has a fresh oil and filter change. All the fluids have been checked and topped off. It has brand new rear tires and it is 100 percent ready to go and super clean. Bright white is the color we shoot all of our videos in 1080p 60 frames per second. So if you have HD capabilities on your computer tablet or smartphone device turn them on right now because it is definitely your best way to check out the quality and condition of the truck before seeing it in person. And if you'd like to check out all the photos on this truck in the upper right-hand part of your screen is a link to our website. Click then check us out there. It comes with the 18 inch polished aluminum rims and it has Firestone Transforce LT 27570 R18 tires and these front tires look like they probably have about 80 to 90 percent of the tread left on them. Frame and underbody is an exceptionally clean condition. Front fender I didn't see any dents or dings on there. Headlight lenses are nice and clear and it does come with the factory fog lights. Front bumper parking sensors and there are no dents or dings on that front bumper and the lower valence is in really nice shape as well. I didn't see any dents or dings on the hood and the passenger side front fender. Same story. No dents or dings on there and the passenger side rim no scuffs or scrapes. As you go down this side of the truck take note of how clean the body is, how reflective and mirror like that paint is. We take these HD videos so if you are far away or even if you're close by and just cannot make the trip down but you're still interested in purchasing the vehicle you can see the truck, hear the truck and of confidence in the vehicle that you're looking at before you even get here. So that when you do get here there's absolutely no surprises and that is why we offer the Summit Auto Fast Pass option in the upper right-hand part of your screen. A link right to our website where you can apply for financing, get pre-approved, see a payment quote, even appraise the trade all from the comfort of your own home. So when you get here all you have to do is drive the truck, love it, you'll be all set to go. These back tears are brand new. You can still see the little wear knobs and put those on in our safety inspection. Frame and underbody is an excellent condition. It does have the wheel-to-wheel side steps meaning that they go from wheel to wheel. Frame and underbody is absolutely perfect and it has all the remaining factory exhaust. Lower rockers all look really good and I didn't see any dents or dings down this side of the truck. Very nice condition. As we come around to the back the rear bumper is in nice shape, does have the backup parking sensors, full towing package which includes a receiver hitch four pin and seven pin wiring, backup camera tailgate is in perfect condition as well and it does come with a very nice sprained bedliner and the LED bed lighting. So these LED bed lights go on with the button right here which they started doing in 2018. Tailgate shuts nice and solidly it is a locking tailgate. You also get a backup camera on there and down this side of the truck just as clean as that passenger side no dents or dings in the box and for full disclosure this back rim is in excellent shape as well. Down the rest of the side of the truck looks really good. No dents, no dings, side steps are really nice on this side as well. You get the heated fold-out tow mirrors and directional signals on them as well and running lights inside. The big horn package gives you the gray cloth interior. There are no rips, there are no tears on the seats. Very nice and clean. These front seats are heated. Power driver seat with lumbar and factory all other floor mats are out. Auto headlamps, power windows, power locks, power mirrors and these mirrors do power fold in. I always like showing both sides so that you know that all the features are working on the truck and we'll take a look at the instrument cluster here. This one has 19,204 miles, digital speedometer, outside temp display, trailer brake controller, gain. You can change all those corners that time range to empty to read whatever you want. 7-inch LCD display. Instrument cluster is very nice and clean. Comes with the heated leather-wrapped steering wheel, cruise controls on the right, Bluetooth and information center controls on the left and it does have the six-speed automatic transmission with the optional tap shift. This one does have the AM FM 8.4C radio. It gives you AM FM and Sirius XM radio capabilities. It does have the factory navigation system on it. This is also where you can check out your backup camera and then you also have your heated seats and heated steering wheel buttons here as well. You can do your climate controls right now. They're off but if you turn them on, then you can control both sides there. You have where it's blowing, all that good stuff. And then this one does have all your apps on it too, including your projection manager where you can project your cell phone to the screen via Android Auto or Apple CarPlay and you can have your phone displayed on the screen there and if you've got a different navigation system that you like to use such as Waze or Google Maps, you can project it to the screen and it's like you have a different navigation system right there. Pretty cool stuff. We actually did a demo on an 8.4 if you want to check that out. It's in the upper right hand part of the screen. Anyways, you can do your climate controls down here as well. If you don't like the doing it on the screen, you have the more tactile buttons. You also have a volume and tune control knobs. Turn dial four wheel drive, factory brake controller and you get stability control, tow haul, factory exhaust brake, parking sensors, heated seats and steering wheel buttons down there as well. 115 volt, 150 watt plug-in, passenger side, floor mat and seat are in excellent condition as well. No rips or tears. Smells very clean inside this truck. I don't think it's ever been smoked in and the headliner is absolutely perfect. Map lights, power sliding rear window buttons, home link buttons for your garage door security systems and lane systems and you do get the SOS and assist buttons in that rearview mirror. There they go. And we'll take a quick look at the back seats and then we'll start it up and check out under the hood. Back seats are just as clean as front seats, no rips or tears back here. Does have the latch child safety system for any child car seats you may have. Power sliding rear window with the built-in rear defrost and you get those all-weather floor mats back here as well. So the mega cabs got just a ton of room back here and these seats actually go down two different ways. So the first wave, the whole backrest and seat folds down which gives you a nice low load floor and it gives everything flat back there so you can actually put both seats down.  And then if you wanted a higher load floor just the backrest goes down which is pretty nice as well. You do get child safety locks on the back doors and the bottoms of the doors all look really good. And we'll start it up and take a quick look under the hood. Starts right up. No check engine lights or anything. And I would personally like to thank you for checking out the video today and hopefully from this HD video you will have been able to tell just how clean this truck is all the way around. Inside, no. Under the hood we have a 6.7 liter coming diesel and today's very clean runs very smooth. Once again this truck has been fully safe eat and inspected by our service shop as a fresh oil and filter change. All the fluids have been checked and topped off as brand new rear tires and this truck is 100% ready to go. We recommend this truck from a quality and condition standpoint and to see more pictures of this truck or one of other 450 new new cars, trucks, SUVs, minivans, Wranglers, half tons, three quarter tons, one tons. You name it we got to go to that website right there at www.summitauto.com. Full pictures and descriptions of every single vehicle from two locations all at summitauto.com. If you like to check out more HD videos you can go to www.youtube.com slash www.summitauto.com. Remember to like, subscribe, and share on this video and all the videos that you see there. In fact in a second you will see a link to subscribe to our YouTube channel on your left. Link to more Ram 2500 truck videos like this tonight right if you have not been on our website. On the bottom link to this vehicle on our website click those check us out and we're super excited to be offering this extremely clean 2018 Ram 2500 Mega Cab Short Box Big Horn Edition in bright white with the Cummins Diesel. Thanks again for checking out the video.