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International Journal ofPsychoanalytic Self PsychologyPublication details, including instructions forauthors and subscription information:http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/hpsp20

My First Meeting With MarianTolpinJoye Weisel-Barth Ph.D and Psy.D. aa Institute of Contemporary Psychoanalysis , LosAngelesPublished online: 13 Aug 2009.

To cite this article: Joye Weisel-Barth Ph.D and Psy.D. (2009) My First Meeting WithMarian Tolpin, International Journal of Psychoanalytic Self Psychology, 4:S1, 109-111,DOI: 10.1080/15551020902958965

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My First Meeting

With Marian Tolpin

Joye Weisel-Barth, Ph.D, Psy.D.

ome candles burn hotter than others, some gems have more fire,and some eels are electric. Although I was not Marian’s intimatefriend and our meetings were few and always at public gatherings, I

certainly recognize that Marian Tolpin was a hot, fiery, and electric woman.Therefore, my memories of her are luminous; and in describing my first en-counter with her, I hope I can convey the immediacy, the vibrancy, thegruff warmth, the generosity, and the authenticity of this most remarkableperson.

As a psychoanalytic candidate I was invited to present a case at the2000 Self Psychology Conference in Chicago. I need not dwell on my anxi-ety and intimidated feelings—I wrote about them elsewhere in a piece onmy development as an analyst.1 Suffice it to say that my presentation, al-though it went well, resulted in a surprising gender split in the audience.

There was one vignette, for example, in which my patient, Lara,talked about a photo of her chronically mentally ill mother. I relate the vi-gnette in some detail to explain why Marian’s response to it is so memora-ble. After describing the photograph to me, Lara promised to bring it butthen failed to do so. Then, several weeks later, right in the middle of a ses-sion and a propos of nothing, Lara handed me a photograph. It took me asecond to realize this was THE photo. “A test,” I thought. My patientwatched my face and my nonverbal responses.

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International Journal of Psychoanalytic Self Psychology, 4:109–111, 2009Copyright © The International Association for Psychoanalytic Self PsychologyISSN: 1555-1024 print / 1940-9141 onlineDOI: 10.1080/15551020902958965

1Weisel-Barth, J. (2003), The Case of Patient J. Prog. in Self Psychol., 19:199–206.Dr. Weisel-Barth is a senior training analyst, supervisor, and instructor at Institute of Con-

temporary Psychoanalysis, Los Angeles, and Book Review Editor of the International Journalof Psychoanalytic Self Psychology.

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The woman in the photograph had the vague look of a deterioratingschizophrenic. She stood stiffly and without expression, a slightly plumpwoman with a puffy face, swollen eyes, and facial skin sprinkled with smallbrown growths. Her hair was disheveled, but her clothes were clean, andthe room spare and orderly. This is Lara’s mother looking quiet and child-like, the lifelong fire of her mental illness having finally cooled.

Feeling sad for the two women, the one in the picture and the one inthe room with me, I said that I appreciated Lara’s bringing the photograph.It clarified for me how ill her mother must have been when Lara was a littlegirl. I also noted the effort her mother had put into fixing the room anddressing herself nicely. Lara’s face lit up as she proudly pointed out the cur-tains in the room, which her mother had sewn. That was all. She took backthe photo and changed the subject. At the next session she thanked me forrecognizing her mother’s suffering. “I figured you would,” she said and thenadded, “Usually I can’t stand Mother, but since our session I’ve actually feltsome kindness toward her.”

To me this approach with Lara seemed straightforwardly self psycho-logical, my response that of a mirroring selfobject attending to both my pa-tient’s trailing and forward edges. My two male discussants, however, haddifficulties with my “goodness.” “Too much provision,” one said. “Notenough confrontation about the relational implications of ‘The Test,’” saidthe other. “Where’s your authentic anger?” The women in the audiencewould have none of this, however, and a crackling gender tension followed,permeating the atmosphere at the conference.

After the presentation, feeling excited but confused and struggling tonot be defensive, I was wandering in a public space at the hotel. Suddenly, aspare, almost gaunt, gray-haired woman appeared. More precisely, thewoman was instantly in my face with a surprising directness and vigor, qual-ities at odds with her apparent physical fragility. In an instant the woman—Marian, of course—was pushing vigorously against my private personalspace. “Dear,” she said in her gravelly voice and patting my arm, “Theseguys just don’t get it, do they?” I must have given her an uncomprehendinglook because she added, “Of course, the girl wants to love her mother. Yougave her a chance to do that.”

Simple, wise, and femininely related, this encounter embodies salientaspects of Marian Tolpin. First, Marian immediately grasped the heart of mypatient’s forward edge strivings and articulated them precisely. Then, shemodeled with and for me the very kind of nurturing that she valued in myresponse to Lara. I felt so understood and validated that my anxiety level

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plummeted and my confusion cleared. This encounter was a perfect meld-ing of life practice and theory. Finally, although we had never been intro-duced—she had no idea who I was—Marian openly welcomed me into hercommunity. A well-established, prominent analyst and a second-year can-didate, yet in that moment issues of power and stature dissolved. This is in-deed a rare occurrence, and it caught me off guard. I almost looked aroundto see what important person she was talking to. Marian had treated me asan equal colleague—and as an interesting equal at that! The warmth andrespect of this first encounter never wavered in all of our subsequent meet-ings.

I hope this memory of Marian Tolpin captures her dear uniquenessand explains why I feel a sharp pain at her passing.

Joye Weisel-Barth, Ph.D., Psy.D.4826 Andasol Ave.Encino, CA 91316818–986–4098dr.joye@sbcglobal.net

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