Jonathan Crane (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
restingstitchface) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
maskormenacelogs2015-03-01 05:47 am
restingstitchface) wrote in maskormenacelogs2015-03-01 05:47 am
[Open] We'll murder them amid laughter and merriment
WHO: Dr. Crane and YOU.
WHERE: ImPort Clinic, Nonah.
WHEN: March 1st till March 6th.
WHAT: Crane's available to talk to about all your problems. He might be probing and prodding, and trying to perceive your fears at the same time. Or maybe you're just housewarming?
WARNINGS: Psychological discussions of a personal note.
It wasn't the most personal office Crane was sitting in, but it was one he knew people'd come to visit nonetheless. He'd deliberately chosen the decorations of his abode in as little time as possible. Clean and traditional, the office was sterile with few home comforts; there wasn't a single telling thing that could reveal something about himself.
The walls were charcoal grey, like the floor, which Crane had attempted to desharpen by having workers lay a muted cream carpet with a black border. He'd unceremoniously placed a yucca tree in the corner, next to a tanned suede couch. He'd had his chair moved opposite, in which he was currently reclining, with a green-upholstered antique footstool in the middle. The old table on his right had nothing on its surface - another hint at his drab nature. Or his fastidious cleanliness. His even older desk was shoved up against the far wall and supported just a lamp, a password-locked laptop and some notebooks. There was a single shelf of books compared to the wall-to-wall library back at his residence - with only a thin copy of The Murders in the Rue Morgue nestled deliberately between the spines. An eagle-eyed visitor would notice the discreprency, and in turn give him an opening into their psyche.
It was an uncomfortable place to be blocked in, with only Crane's blue eyes watching. He didn't particularily care - it was a place to learn and talk. Making it his home was illogical.
Someone rapping his door pricked his ears. He stopped reading and set his book on the table before rising to answer and lead his visitor in. The light from the ceiling-to-wall bay window was flooding the room and making it feel larger than the box it was.
"Thank you for coming."
WHERE: ImPort Clinic, Nonah.
WHEN: March 1st till March 6th.
WHAT: Crane's available to talk to about all your problems. He might be probing and prodding, and trying to perceive your fears at the same time. Or maybe you're just housewarming?
WARNINGS: Psychological discussions of a personal note.
It wasn't the most personal office Crane was sitting in, but it was one he knew people'd come to visit nonetheless. He'd deliberately chosen the decorations of his abode in as little time as possible. Clean and traditional, the office was sterile with few home comforts; there wasn't a single telling thing that could reveal something about himself.
The walls were charcoal grey, like the floor, which Crane had attempted to desharpen by having workers lay a muted cream carpet with a black border. He'd unceremoniously placed a yucca tree in the corner, next to a tanned suede couch. He'd had his chair moved opposite, in which he was currently reclining, with a green-upholstered antique footstool in the middle. The old table on his right had nothing on its surface - another hint at his drab nature. Or his fastidious cleanliness. His even older desk was shoved up against the far wall and supported just a lamp, a password-locked laptop and some notebooks. There was a single shelf of books compared to the wall-to-wall library back at his residence - with only a thin copy of The Murders in the Rue Morgue nestled deliberately between the spines. An eagle-eyed visitor would notice the discreprency, and in turn give him an opening into their psyche.
It was an uncomfortable place to be blocked in, with only Crane's blue eyes watching. He didn't particularily care - it was a place to learn and talk. Making it his home was illogical.
Someone rapping his door pricked his ears. He stopped reading and set his book on the table before rising to answer and lead his visitor in. The light from the ceiling-to-wall bay window was flooding the room and making it feel larger than the box it was.
"Thank you for coming."
no subject
Psychopharmacology is about what he expected, but it's good to get some verbal confirmation regarding the matter. Barnaby himself can't say he likes the idea of becoming overly dependent on medication. Potential side effects aside and inconveniences aside, masking the symptoms -- rather than dealing with them -- sounds counterproductive. On the other hand, it's true that there are times when medication is necessary in order to function. He imagines he would sleep better, for example, with something intended to curb anxiety. In that sense, he agrees that medication is important, but not the panacea some people expect it to be.
"In other words," he says as he meets Crane's gaze, "some of your patients take medication more on an as-needed basis? Also, when you say 'combined approach', do you mean you incorporate a sort of talk therapy as well?"
From what he's found online, most doctors tend to call it a day after writing a prescription. Given the fact medicine is their specialty, it makes sense. Judging by how he interacts with people over the network, however, Crane strikes Barnaby as someone who is very curious about how the human mind works. It's hard to imagine him sending patients on their way after 15 minutes.
no subject
His gaze is level and intended to answer every worry this young man has about medication, and his beliefs and approach to such. Given how much Barnaby was asking - and how he asked of types of treatment - it was clear he had an issue with approaches that offered a quick fix.
"I do not believe in 'slapping' people with a diagnosis, prescribing medication and leaving them to struggle. I am in the role of a healer. I guide and support with medication, and evaluate its progress, but medication alone does not provide a well-rounded recovery." He tilts his head slightly. "It does not act like a magical panacea that cures all ails. It addresses a chemical imbalance in the brain; not the traumatic loss of a dead son. I firmly believe it cannot, alone, heal a fractured psyche."
no subject
"That makes sense," he says, jotting down another quick note. "Thank you for clarifying. If I may ask, though...what made you decide to pursue this line of work in the first place?"
no subject
Crane's happy to answer; he's not raising a smile, since that's not his natural state of self. But there's something reverent in his calm, controlled tone. He's repeating something similiar to what he's said at home, perhaps. Or he's perhaps he's describing something so fascinating and vast he's focusing to make sure he gets out the right words.
"I believe the mind is everything. I respect it's power. It's a wise idea to acknowledge what it can do."
no subject
"I see," he says with a quiet nod. "Was there a specific moment when you decided to become a doctor, or was it a gradual decision?"
no subject
He is very well aware of the fact Barnaby is starting to ask searching questions - ones that can open doors into personal areas. It's an exciting feeling with minds he considers fascinating, holding certain doors open and keeping others closed. It's a special bond between them - and it's a bond that's missing rows of links here.
"Was the network revelation the specific catalyst of the decision that brought you here?"
no subject
"Yes and no," Barnaby admits. He thought that might come up, so he's already considered how he'd like to answer. "A chain of events prompted my retirement from hero work back home, so I suspect the sudden influx in free time may lead to my seeing someone if I'm ever Ported out."
He sets his pencil and pad down on his lap, looking at Crane with a clear, confident gaze. Generally speaking, Barnaby isn't someone who second guesses himself, something he purposely conveys in his posture.
"That said," he adds, "my government file is the closest thing I've ever gotten to an official diagnosis. The network incident prompted me to inform my employers, who expressed concern that I haven't received treatment for my condition. Furthermore, public opinion is important in my current line of work, and I'd like to truthfully say I'm addressing my issues should the file leak become a problem in the future. The things I mentioned about Kotetsu are what fully cemented my decision, however."
no subject
And immediately, Crane's line of questioning becomes a whole lot more involved - personal and searching, and it's like Barnaby's earlier search in how it seems aimed with the intent of discovering if they'll be a good fit. He's leaning forward slightly, making sure he's not too far off his chair.
"What is your opinion on the whole nature of diagnosis? Is it truly something you want? Will it help you? Or are you after the quick-route to medication that it offers purely to satisfy your insurance company, or some charity? Because you don't strike me as that type of patient, Barnaby. And I am not the sort of doctor who will facilitate such a rushed hatchet job when it comes to helping my patients."
no subject
His voice carries no defensive tone. If there's one thing Barnaby knows about himself, it's that he only agrees to do things once he's fully committed. Sometimes that means taking a little time when making a decision with long-term consequences, but, as far as he's concerned, that's not a bad thing.
"I don't expect a quick fix," Barnaby adds, "and to be perfectly honest, I'd rather avoid getting saddled with too many prescriptions if it can be helped. What I'm looking for are sustainable, healthy ways to manage my symptoms."
no subject
He's a well-adjusted individual - clearly not mentally insane. He imagines his colleagues reaching the conclusion he knows what he's doing. Which is why they had been terrified of approaching him after his fall from grace. Evil was a word thrown around without much thought, these days. It certainly wasn't a word that applied to him. He imagines what Barnaby needs is perhaps a good, healthy dose of facing his fear, rather than running away scared.
"I know I can help you. I hazard a guess you've already researched some of the techniques - depth therapy, for instance. But you've been living with your condition for so long that surely you must understand fear is part of human nature. It's what keeps us safe." He doesn't sound reverent; he sounds contemplative - how best can he help, given what little he knows? "But yes. To answer your hidden question, I believe in managing anxiety with sustainable, healthy means. With the ultimate goal of giving you the means to manage it standing on your own two feet."
On his own two feet on the edge of a tall cliff - and in the state of mind he doesn't know whether to retreat or just jump.
no subject
"I have done some research," he responds, "although most likely with layman's terms." Understanding the deeper motives behind current conditions sounds like a fairly common-sense approach, so it's something Barnaby is willing to try.
"There is something you should probably know, though," Barnaby continues. "Although I have no trouble remembering things that have happened since I came to this world, my memory of events back home isn't as reliable. Do you think that would be a problem?"
no subject
He's speaking softly, and while his tone is cool and thoughtful about how best to pull those memories back to the surface, he's actually quite excited to see what they are, underneath it all. The silent implication is that clearly he values knowledge in his field, and doesn't give much consideration to those who would set up business just for the sake of money whilst having no real skill. His lips rise into a small smile.
"Fortunately, analytical psychiatry has a focus on bringing to the surface things we've hidden so deeply about ourselves, amongst other things."
no subject
Just how much, he can't say. What matters is that Maverick changed enough for Barnaby to question his own ability to parse through what's real and what isn't. This isn't something he likes to advertise for obvious reasons, but he understands why it might become relevant should he start seeing someone on a regular basis.
His mouth twists into a wry expression. "Simply put, anyone who ends up asking me for a novel about my life will likely be frustrated by an unreliable narrator."
no subject
His carefully chosen reaction is simple; calm, clinical professionalism. His eyebrows lower in thought, just a little - but no more.
"You're observant," he says, drawing him closer by involving him in their discussion. "Don't you think the mind is an unreliable narrator at the best of times? In my profession it's called observer bias. How much of our mind do we control? The subconscious is immeasurable. We remember events from childhood - swiftly, and for no reason at all. Is anything about it uncomfortable for you, really?"
He hopes so.
no subject
What the man says instead is interesting, although Barnaby isn't sure whether he's trying to assure him that his issue won't negatively impact his ability to treat him, or if it's an attempt to put things in a less unsettling context. In the end, Barnaby wonders if he's conveying the gravity of the situation well enough.
"Observer bias is one thing -- natural, even, when you think about how we're wired," he quietly says. "What I'm talking about is someone pasting over my real memories with fabrications that suited their needs. It's not just my own filter I have to think about, I've literally remembered things that didn't happen at all, and have completely forgotten things I never would have under normal circumstances."
no subject
He's thinking about the gravity of the situation, clearly - adopting a clinical pose in his chair, head tilted back, shoulders pinned, making sure to get a good view of Barnaby's physical reactions. Identity issues were things most people found uncomfortable, so he appreciates Barnaby's willingness to share them with him - and doesn't lean forward as intrusively as he could.
That comes later. His patience compared his patients was long and deep - and it was rare his subjects were either. Those anxious cases were the ones he loved. All anxious cases he loved, really - but he relished the special ones. Everyone felt fear, but some people experienced it profoundly. The fear of not knowing who you are when you awake? Fascinating.
"So. Not only do you wake up uncertain about who you are - or will become - you have a second person to worry about. That must be hard."
no subject
He wants to say he doesn't have to worry about people controlling him anymore, but that's not true, is it? Maverick may be dead, but there are people in this world who have already manipulated memories in order to further their own agenda. To think he might be spared from something so horrible is simply naïve. Unfortunately, the mere notion feels like a getting dropped into a bucket of ice water.
“There isn't much to be done about it now, so I generally try not to dwell on it,” he adds. “But I realize it's something I'll have to deal with for the rest of my life, which means I try to acknowledge what happened when I feel it's appropriate.”
no subject
He's used to sometimes having to use a gentle touch; it's important to garner trust. The trust of his patients is one of his most useful tools. He built it by emphasising similarities and keeping his calm, professional manner - and he destroyed it easily when it came down to fulfiling his work.
"Though you try not to dwell, such thoughts are regularily intrusive. These thoughts are better addressed by questioning them immediately." He pauses in consideration. "I would have you expose your memories and dwell in them, rather than shy away."