I am in a dilemma. Nat is content for me to suggest what he should do with his life, but I am not sure what he wants. After all, his life has returned to its former pattern. He didn’t see many people before I knew him. But this way of life had culminated in such drastic measures; or at least, his mother’s efforts to get him out of his “shell”, and his refusal to cooperate, had caused him to harm himself.

THUS FEB 28

I saw Nat and his parents today. For the best part of an hour we all bullied Nat. His parents feel he should go to college or take a job. Nat stubbornly refuses and has no shame in using emotional blackmail against them, usually thinly veiled threats of suicide should they push him too far. At the moment he still pays them his “keep” from the money he has saved from his sickness benefit, but this will not last forever. The most optimistic thing to emerge from the meeting was that Nat now seems more able to fight back, albeit in the most cruel and perverse manner. Nat’s parents were overjoyed that he had successfully made the journey to and from London. They seem, unaware of what actually occurred at Simeon’s, but still remain greatly in favour of the primal therapy, especially now that they have grown accustomed to it.

FRI FEB 29

I blatantly chastised Nat today for his behaviour towards his parents. If he insists on playing the precocious child, I will have to play the strict schoolmaster. He seems to hate his parents but he thinks he maintains a veneer of courtesy. I perceive a minimal change in him that is more permanent than his usual swings of mood. He is not so apathetic as he was. His appearance is somewhat neater but his teeth are a horrid green. I advised him to see his dentist. Of all the young people I have ever worked with, Nat’s problems with approaching maturity are the most severe I have seen.

Last night I dreamt I was in a spacious echoing attic, with gigantic malodorous quenelles rolling about me making booming, rumbling sounds. I didn’t feel in danger, and was able to take control of the dream. (See sex diary.)

MON MAR 3

It is one o’clock and I am very tired. This evening saw the third primal therapy session with Nat. As usual, I placed numerous cushions on the floor of my study. Nat relaxed quickly and I drew the curtains and turned out the light. He did not regress, despite my numerous proddings at his belly button. He was feeling nauseous and perceived a pain about the forehead. I applied pressure to the precise point of the cranium complaint with one hand whilst maintaining a hold and rhythmically massaging his stomach with the other. He reverted to the foetal position. Then came the screaming: grotesque glissandi culminating in shattering squalls on the highest notes. I maintained contact with him, continually pulling him back from the foetal world to find out what he was going through. At first he ceaselessly reenacted his suicide attempt, for the most part out of control and uninhibited. Gradually he began to gain glimpses -conscious insights into his behaviour. I told him we already knew about the slashed wrists, and he quietened down.