I first became aware that I had a self-esteem problem at age thirty-eight. For three years, I had been director of a huge, 300 bed psychiatric facility with a very busy emergency room. If a nurse could not reach an attending doctor, I was called. Every other night I was on call to the emergency room. On a good night, I was awoken only five times; on a bad night, ten or more times.

I had a vacation coming, and was desirous of getting away from an impossibly hectic situation. I sought a vacation spot that would allow me to do nothing other than vegetate. I wanted no sightseeing or activities. I finally decided on Hot Springs, Arkansas, which promised to allow me total rest.

The industry of Hot Springs is horse-racing, which begins in mid-February. I reached Hot Springs in December, when there was nothing doing in town. Most of the stores were boarded up. It was the vacation spot I had hoped for.

Having had low-back pain for years, I thought I would take advantage of the mineral-water baths, which were touted as producing miraculous results. I was taken into a tiny cubicle, and an attendant gave me two glasses of hot mineral water which was naturally heated deep in the earth. Then I was put into a tub of these magic waters, and the whirlpool was turned on.

I felt I was in Paradise! No one could reach me—no patient, no nurse, no doctor, no family member, no social worker, no probation officer—I was beyond reach. And in this paradisical situation, I was bathing in nature's own hot-water. Who could ask for more?

After about five minutes, I got up and said to the attendant, "That was wonderful! Just what I'd been hoping for."

The attendant said, "Where are you going, sir?" I said, "Wherever the next part of the treatment is." The attendant said, "First you must stay in the whirlpool for 25 minutes."

I returned to the bath, and after five minutes I said, "Look, I have to get out of here." The attendant said, "As you wish, but you cannot go on with the rest of the treatment."

I did not wish to forego the treatment, so I returned to the tub for 15 minutes of purgatory. The hands on the clock on the wall did not seem to be moving.

Later that day, I realized that I had a rude awakening. I had taken three years of constant stress without difficulty, but I could not take ten minutes of Paradise! Something was wrong.

On return home I consulted a psychologist. He pointed out that if you asked people how they relaxed, one would say, "I read a good book," or "I listen to music," or "I do needlework," or "I play golf." Everyone tells you what they do to relax. However, relaxation is an absence of effort. One does not do anything to relax. What most people describe as relaxation is actually diversion. You divert you attention to the book, needlework or golf ball.

Diversions are perfectly OK, but they are actually escapist techniques. Work and diversion are fairly healthy techniques. Unfortunately, some people escape into alcohol, drugs, food or gambling.

In the cubicle at Hot Springs, I had no diversions: nothing to read, nothing to look at, nothing to listen to, no one to talk to, nothing to do. In absence of all diversions, I was left in immediate contact with myself. I could not remain there long because I didn't like the person I was with!

Why are people using a variety of escapist maneuvers? What is it that they seek to escape? Very often it is from themselves. If, as was the case with me, they have an erroneous self-concept, they cannot stand being with themselves.