The Island of Misfit Toys

I hate those people who love to tell you
Money is the root of all that kills
They have never been poor
They have never had the joy of a welfare Christmas
Everclear- I will buy you a new life

King Moonraiser: Come closer. What do you desire?
Rudolph: Well, we're a couple of misfits from Christmastown, and we'd like to live here.
King Moonraiser: No. That would not be possible. This island is for toys alone.
Yukon Cornelius: How do you like that? Even among misfits you're a misfit.
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer



Nearly every person I have ever spoken to in therapy has strong feelings about Christmas. There really is nothing like the holidays to reopen old wounds, stir up feelings of jealousy, resentment, loss, and sometimes even joy. This sounds cynical, I know, but it is also something I’m sure most therapists can confirm.

The substitute pattern seems to thrive during this season, as it becomes very easy to compare and contrast our lives with virtually everyone we come into contact with, as people strive to put their best foot forward when describing their own Christmas experience.

Why do we lie? What is it that makes us put on the plastic smiles and wax nostalgic about the holidays? Here in America, the forces of consumerism are at their most powerful during this season, and financial posturing and social comparison always create feelings that send a lot of people straight to therapy during the festive holiday season.


One family I saw touched off a number of my own substitute patterns, and really got me thinking about how much Christmas really separates the haves and the have nots in our contemporary American society.


The family in question had a lot of strikes against them. The father had been in a construction accident, and had lost a great deal of his cognitive functioning as a result. The mother had never worked, and seemed overwhelmed and lost trying to keep the family together as a result of her husband’s problems.


They came to me after being referred from the insurance company, and were very unfamiliar with the therapeutic process. The family had a number of problems, but the one that was currently causing them the most distress came from the 12 year-old daughter, who had been throwing terrible tantrums around the house, ostensibly because her parents wouldn’t provide her with a cell phone.


Our first meeting was comical. She laid down on the couch facing the opposite way from me, and waited for me to say something. When I asked her why she was laying like that, she explained that she saw that on TV and thought that was the way she was supposed to do it. I explained to her that she could just sit up and talk to me, and not to be worried or afraid and she begrudgingly fidgeted and squirmed her way into sitting up.

Our first session was awkward. She clearly didn’t want to be there and I couldn’t say that I blamed her. So we played a little Uno and talked about some of her favorite music. I was amazed to find she was a Beatles fan, and when I found that out I knew we had something to talk about. She told me she also liked to read, and particularly liked Tales of a 4th Grade Nothing which was also a favorite of mine growing up. As the hour progressed we made a real connection, and I could scarcely believe this was the same little girl I had heard described as such a terror.


So we saw each other a couple more times and continued to play cards and talk. I found she was quite bright and articulate, and it was actually a real pleasure to spend time with her. Even still, I knew I had to go a little deeper and at least start to try and understand what it was that was making her so angry. It is dangerous to rush children in therapy before you have built rapport, so as we were rapping up, I simply asked her what she would change in her life if I could wave a magic wand and make things different.


Her reaction was not what I expected. A tear fell down her face and she looked up at me with sad eyes.


“I just want a normal life and a normal family,” she said sadly. “and maybe a dad like you."


Wow. She had totally stunned me. I was trained and prepared for what is known as the “doorknob confession,” something that occurs in therapy where a person drops a bombshell on their way out the door as opposed to dealing with it during the session. This was a little different however, as I was the one who had asked the question. Meanwhile her parents were waiting in the lobby and I needed to wrap things up, while also giving her a response to such a powerful revelation.


“Listen Katie,” I explained. “I really enjoy talking to you and hearing a little more about your life. If it’s helpful to you we can set it up so we can talk once a week about whatever it is you want. I can and will be your friend, but I can’t be your dad. Do you still think you might like to come back and talk again?”


Not the greatest intervention I’d ever dreamed up, but it seemed to reach its mark. She agreed that she would like to come back, and after speaking with the parents for a few minutes, we all agreed that this was something we could make happen.


I stayed up half the night thinking about what had just transpired. As happens so often in therapy, Katie had made me think about something in my life that was very much weighing on my mind. I had just returned home from an extended vacation with my family, and spending time with my nieces and nephews had made me seriously question why I had reached this point in my own life without having children. In general I was happy with my choices, but also wondered very much about what the road less traveled might have had in mind. Would I have been a good father? Was I missing an important part of life? Was all this still ahead of me?


All of these thoughts were important to consider, but first and foremost I also had to try and understand how I could be of the most help to Katie. Clearly she longed for a kind of normalcy in her life that was simply not possible right now, and she seemed to be taking out her frustration about this on her immediate family. They described violent tantrums where she would run into the street screaming and crying. Other times she would curl up in the room and not talk to anyone. I knew that if she couldn’t begin to develop ways to soothe herself and find more effective coping methods she was headed for potentially serious trouble.


So what was the best way to go here? I knew that if I could continue to build a trusting relationship with her she would likely continue to open up to me, but on the other hand I didn’t want her to get so attached that she became completely dependent on me and on coming to therapy. It was kind of a tricky road to walk actually, and meanwhile I didn’t want my own pangs of regret over lost fatherhood to interfere with how I conducted myself here.


Was any of the completely possible? I didn’t really know. All we really have as therapists is ourselves, and I had to figure out how to use myself, flaws and regrets notwithstanding, and hopefully find a way for this girl to begin to quiet the distress that was going on inside of her.


So we continued to meet regularly and play cards and talk. I found out that she was being made fun of by the other kids at school because of her clothes, her “weird” family, and the fact that she didn’t even own a cell phone. This broke my heart to hear about, and I continued to think about what it was I could do to help her with the very real problems she had as a result of the realities of her life. She seemed to look forward to coming to therapy, however and, per her parents report, her anger and tantrums were decreasing.


But still there was this sadness about her, and in particular she was dreading Christmas, which was an amazingly heartbreaking thing to hear from a child. Again her story had struck a chord with me, as I too was not excited about Christmas this year, having decided to forgo going home and instead stay in Chicago and celebrate the season essentially by myself. Again, I didn’t want to mix up my problems with hers, but I also thought a lot about how I could use what I felt about the holidays to be of assistance to her. My first instinct was to simply give her a cell phone, but I knew that was not an appropriate ethical solution. Sadly the family’s financial problems were not something I could help with.

So I went home that night and watched It’s a Wonderful Life, and thought about something special I could do for Katie over this holiday. Even as a kid I loved watching Christmas movies, and every year I anticipated getting lost in these stories almost as much as I did the actual Christmas day experience. Somewhere around the time George Bailey was jumping in to save Clarence I got an idea.

What I did decide on was to throw a little holiday party just for Katie and me. I got this idea from thinking about the show Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, and in particular the scenes that took place on the island of misfit toys. For those who remember that part of the show, it was where all of the toys that were slightly broken or damaged in some way went to live, and this part of the show had always had a special kind of meaning for me.

I had always felt like a bit of a misshaped toy myself, never fitting quite right with everyone else around me. I was quite sure from our conversation that Katie was feeling something very similar, and I thought if we could watch this show together, that maybe we could talk about some of the things that were bothering her. I also wanted to create something special for her on this holiday, but knew that buying her something wasn’t exactly appropriate.


So I told her about the idea and she was thrilled, feeling that there was finally something unique for her that she didn’t have to share with her brothers (they shared a room), or that she could be made fun of for by the other kids.

So when the day arrived I bought some popcorn and her favorite drink, (Orange pop) and we had ourselves a little movie night. Was I getting some of my own needs met through this interaction? Absolutely. But I also knew that this may be an important way to get her to talk about some of the things that were bothering her. When we got to the part about the misfit toys, I told her how I always felt like that, and she shook her head and smiled in a knowing way, both of us communicating a kind of understanding that didn’t need elaboration in that moment.

So we continued to meet after that, and she opened up in a completely new way about how hard it was to endure the comments from the other kids about her family, and how angry this made her at the other kids as well as her own parents. Therapy gave her a chance to explore these feelings, and we also began a discussion about ignoring what other people thought, which was admittedly a difficult thing for a 12 year-old girl to comprehend. Still, she was a Beatles fan, and I knew there was something special about her that might begin to get a grasp on this idea.

I saw her for another year after this, and watched her blossom into a beautiful young woman with her own sense of style and confidence. It was a wonderful transformation that was actually kind of startling to watch, and when it came time to part company I was confident she was on her way to becoming a remarkable young woman.

This case was proof to me that therapy can sometimes have an amazing impact on both the client as well as the therapist, but also spoke to me very deeply about the power and resiliency of the human spirit. Someone in Katie’s situation had a great deal working against her, but something inside of her found a way to hold on and rise above some very difficult circumstances. I don’t know how her story ends, but I very much look forward to hearing all about it.