Reconciliation

The original version (in Russian) was published in MyBlog at www.accentee.com on October 19, 2009. Now I have it translated into English while keeping in mind Bob Ryan, a man of merit.

Lately my regard toward my self has significantly deteriorated. When I usually saw myself in the mirror - and I had to do it regularly, at least for shaving - I might think: that’s quite a nice phiz, even with some signs of intelligence on the face. And I would smile to myself in the mirror, and even wink, and we both were pleased.

But time was passing, and one morning, looking in the mirror I tried to smile as always, but... I couldn’t. I tried to wink, but it turned somehow sour. What is it?! I moved closer. Less than pleasant face was looking at me (so far I would not say - very unpleasant), and traces of intelligence could only be seen with great difficulty, as if they were hiding in the folds of the terrain.

 

Since then, while shaving, I tried not to meet eyes in the mirror and not to express any kind of emotion. I managed doing so with some stress. But one day, unable to stand any longer, I decided to meet myself face to face, I met ... and said, aloud, but softly: - Well, muzzle ...

 

I did not expect such an insult and did not know how to react. Head down, I left the bathroom and then did not shave for two days, having the benefit of the weekend. But on Monday, when I had to once again take a look at myself in the mirror, I was upset even more, and suddenly gave a hoarse voice: - Well, such a mu-u-ug ... This was too much, and I snapped at first angrily : - No worse than yours! - And then, unable to restrain myself, I pinched my body below the waist.

It was painful. Should I respond in kind or leave it unpunished? I was going to do the first, but suddenly got a thought: what are the limits? For example, eye for eye, tooth for tooth. So, I’ll lose my eyes and I won’t see any more this nasty ... you understand what. I’ll lose my teeth and I won’t be able to even mumble the proper disgust. Superfine situation, isn’t it? Peace and quiet and grace of God ...

I cooled down a bit, I thought about how other people get over a similar point in their life. Should I talk with my friends, peers? They’ll make fun of me. Turn to a psychologist? It’s too early; let me first learn something about myself on the internet. Wow! It turned out there was a lot of studies and statistics on this matter which is called self-harm. Some people deliberately inflict themselves a physical damage of various degrees of severity, from a scratch to an injury. And this is not a senseless or irrational behavior.

 About 1% of the population at least once in their lives caused themselves this or that physical damage as a means of coping with overwhelming circumstances or emotions. The population of the United States is 300 million people, which gives us 3 million of self-harmers! It is quite a solid number, and they are people of all ages. But one group draws much attention and gives me a sense of shame - girls under the age of fourteen. It’s so regrettable, they are young and inexperienced, but you, the one in the mirror - wise, white-haired, with your miserable problem of not liking your muzzle, you see... You just lived too long, that's what it is, and nobody is to blame. So, write a complaint against yourself!

 

- OK, I will! - said I stubbornly. I called the court explaining that my case was not complicated, but urgent, and the judge agreed to receive me the next day.

- Your name, age, address, - asked the judge. I replied.

- What is your claim? - asked the judge.

- I was subjected to an insult, combined with aggressive physical action, - I replied.

- Name and address of the offender, - the judge asked. I replied.

The judge raised his eyebrows: - It's your data!

- And his as well, - I replied.

- Is it your twin with the same name? - asked the judge.

- No, it's myself.

The judge swallowed hard and raised his voice: - I have no time for jokes!

- It's no joke, - I replied. - Show me the law under which I do not have the right to sue myself!

At this point the judge first looked into my eyes. He did not respond for a long time and then said, moderating the tone: - And couldn’t you... e-ah ... to settle the conflict with yourself? I would recommend you a good mediator...

I quickly realized what he had in mind, and firmly said: - I do not need a psychiatrist, and please give me a straight answer!

The judge thought for a moment, then said: - I have to consult with colleagues, please wait in the hallway, I'll call you.

There was a young woman in the hallway sitting on a chair. -Who do you litigate with? - she asked sympathetically.

- With myself - I said glumly.

- A good joke, - she smiled.

- No time for jokes, - I replied.

- This is interesting - said she after some thought. - And would you let me take a picture of you?  

It was only then I noticed that she was hung with all kinds of photo and film cameras.

- Go ahead - I replied languidly, and at this point, the judge called me back into the room.

- Here is the form for a written statement of claim. Tomorrow morning come in for a forensic examination. Why? For the identification of possible physical signs of violence. Were there any witnesses? No? Perhaps you will be called to the investigator. And finally, you, I mean - the defendant, you will need an attorney, - the judge said.

- I will be the attorney for myself - I replied.

- That is, you want to defend yourself against yourself? - quietly asked the judge.

- Your Honor, is a defendant has no right to refuse having an attorney?

- Well, wellm - I was assured by the judge. - See you at the hearing of your case!

The next day my portrait flaunted on the first page of the city newspaper, accompanied by questions like "Who fights whom?", "Can’t you settle?" and even "is he a flagellant?" I did not answer the phone, carefully avoided journalists and acquaintances, and was not surprised when entering the courtroom I noticed it was filled to capacity. When I appeared, all eyes turned in my direction, and the noise in the courtroom got louder. The judge rapped with a hammer and announced that the trial begins.

 

- Here is coming up for hearing the case "Mr. Jack Pincher ..." - he raised his eyes ...

- Here - I said.

- "... against Mr. Jack Pincher" - he raised his eyes again.

- Here - I said.

Light laughter rang out over the hall. The judge said that the defendant refused to have an attorney and then turned toward the jury. I followed his example and noticed with satisfaction to myself, that the most of the jury were people of middle age.

- The plaintiff, the defendant, do you have any comments on the composition of the jury?

I answered "no" twice.

- The plaintiff, the defendant, haven’t you changed your mind in favor of settling the case before we proceed?

Again, I said "no" twice. The noise got louder, I looked back and saw that some were holding placards such as "Protect the rights of a man and his body from any attack!", or just "Let’s not allow it!”

 

The judge gave the floor to the Prosecutor.

- The Investigation studied the claim of Mr. Jack Pincher who was subjected to verbal and physical painful effects by the defendant, Mr. Jack Pincher ...

- Your honor - I could not restrain myself. – The defense is asking for the floor! - The judge allowed.

- The Prosecutor inaccurately describes the events, - I went on. - The plaintiff first told me "well, face," and I have acted in response (the audience erupted with laughter.)

- Mr. Prosecutor, stay closer to the facts, - the judge asked.

- So, - continued the Prosecutor - a forensic examination confirmed the presence of signs of vigorous pinching on the body of the plaintiff, on the right side below the waist.

- Your honor - I could not stand it again. – The defense is asking for the floor! - The judge allowed.

- There are similar signs on my body as well!

The audience could not restrain from laughing, and it was evident that both the judge and the jury could hardly contain themselves. To me it was no laughing matter.

Meanwhile, the Prosecutor went on calmly:

- It's not funny at all. We were approached by Mr. Jack Pincher, who was looking for protection from Mr. Jack Pincher, because he could not cope with it himself. He could apply to other, non-judicial authorities, but he chose the court, even though he knew that the only thing that a court can do is to punish the offender. And that means, this is exactly what he wants, and what he wants is to free himself from the function of self punishing and turn it into a legitimate punishing function of the court. Until now, the court had not considered this kind of cases, and, probably, the court should not do that in the future. But in this case, we decided that we can not cast aside this unique applicant.

 

The audience bursted into prolonged applause, and I found myself applauding with all others. Further procedural speeches were not interesting, and I have turned on my attention, when the judge began to read the sentencing:

- The jury unanimously recognized the defendant's guilt, but given the special nature of his relationship with the plaintiff, I decided to soften the penalty. Thus, the Court orders:

1) The defendant to pay a fine of $5,000 (the judge paused, audience held breath) in favor of the plaintiff (audience sighed with relief.)

2) The defendant to pay Court expenses of $8765.

Audience met this with a deathly silence, and when I went out to the hallway, I saw the people - friends and strangers – avoiding meeting eyes with me. But suddenly one man separated from the crowd, came over to me with a smile and, without hesitation, slapped me on the shoulder. - Hi, Jack! - he said. - My name is John; I am co-owner of "John and John Publishers.” I like your unusual approach to your difficult problem, and I would like to sign a contract with you to write a book about all of this. Advance payment of $30,000 you can receive right now.”

On returning home I first went to the mirror, expecting a decisive showdown. Imagine my surprise when the one in the mirror gave me a wide smile, then winked and said: - Don’t worry, my friend, we’ll stick together.

Iosif Benenson

August 18, 2013