Proxies

One character in the novel I’m reading is a sin-eater, a man who, for a bit of silver, takes on the sins of other villagers at their deaths. His serves by accepting responsibility for the past behavior of others. For this he is paid, but also universally reviled.

Sometimes, in darker moments, I wonder if the current shortage of psychiatrists is not so much a dearth of professionals skilled at treating mental illness, but rather a lack of individuals willing to take on liability for other people’s future behavior, behaviors over which we realistically have, at best, merely a thread of influence. How much of my salary compensates me for helping people—and how much is just paying me off to be culpable-by-proxy when the unpredictable, yet inevitable, tragedy transpires? And, perhaps, to accept an increased likelihood of being myself the victim of such a tragedy?

Through my work I believe I have helped many tortured souls live more peacefully (if not rest so eternally). Yet the work (and I) are reviled by many, often not least by my own “clients”. And I have had my bit of silver for it. Sometimes I can feel flames kindled for others licking at my own feet. As I say, these are dark moments.