Abstract
One year later, a few miles from Ground Zero, at the invitation of two psychoanalytic colleagues from New York, I took up the role of discussant for a panel of three presentations reflecting on clinical work after September 11. I felt both honored and surprised by this request, since I work in a small psychiatric hospital (the Austen Riggs Center), three hours north of the city by car. After I read the presentations, I felt admiring, even in awe of the presenters’ work, but I also felt like those people, mentioned in the presentations, who had not come to work that day. I began my assignment feeling the shame and guilt of the survivor. From my insulated spot in the Berkshire mountains of Western Massachusetts, I hesitated to discuss this work. Not having been there, I felt inclined to de-authorize myself from speaking.
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