The gift of Dibs...

I just finished reading Dibs: In Search of Self again. It is my favorite book, ever, and it isn't even a novel. It's the story of a five-year-old boy whose parents and teachers believe he may be retarded or in some way mentally deficient, and of how he discovers the inner strength to be himself with the help of a therapist and the practice of play therapy.

The story of Dibs was written in 1964, and was a Readers Digest Condensed Book selection in 1967, which is where I first found it. Virginia M. Axline, one of the pioneers of play therapy, wrote it, and it has never been out of print in the 50+ years since it was first published. 

After only one preliminary session with Dibs, Axline wrote, "I had respect for his inner strength and capacity. He was a child of great courage." The playroom became the place where he could safely explore and express his inner world, and I know that in all of my many readings of this book, I have always learned something about myself every time I've read it.

One of the early conflicts Dibs has to come to terms with is the necessity to leave and go home at the end of the hour. At first, this is wrenching for him, and with Axline's help, he is able to accept it.

He looked so small, and yet so filled with hope and courage and confidence that I could feel the power of his dignity and assurance.

"I come with gladness into this room," he said again. "I leave it with sadness."

And the reader's heart is broken that Dibs has to leave the place in which he is nourished and feels whole. We want to stay there with him, because it makes us feel whole as well.

There are no limits to what Dibs can play with in the playroom. There are paints, and army men, a tea set, a dollhouse, farm animals, and on a very special day, a set of figures and buildings with which Dibs can create his own world. His play with the dollhouse during one session makes it possible for him to express his anguish: "I weep because I feel again the hurt of closed and locked against me," he sobbed.

Axline shares her insights with the reader: His feelings had torn through him without mercy. The locked doors in Dibs' young life had brought him intense suffering...all the doors of acceptance that had been closed and locked against him, depriving him of the love, respect, and understanding he needed so desperately.

Although my life was different in so many ways, on some level I understood how Dibs felt, and felt grateful for the sense of comradeship I experienced with both Dibs and Axline.

By the end of the book I am always filled with awe at the tremendous growth and courage, and inspired by Dibs and his journey.  In one of his final visits he recognizes the change: "The little boy is gone now...But big Dibs is big and strong and brave. He is not afraid any more."

Axline puts it in more clinical, though no less powerful terms: In his symbolic play he had poured out his hurt, bruised feelings, and had emerged with feelings of strength and security...He was no longer afraid to be himself.

May we all find the courage of Dibs to be ourselves.

Take care,

Doc