“I can’t believe that I’m spending all my time in therapy
talking about my job,” Pauline exclaims, bursting into tears. “I thought you
talk about your childhood or relationships, not a dumb job!”
I’ve seen Pauline only a short time and she’s correct, she’s
spent most of her time talking about her job. She’s a graphic designer, a good
one it seems, but she’s been in a state of panic since the administration in
her company changed, resulting in her reporting to two different supervisors.
“This week the artistic director wanted me to drop
everything and work on one project, while the marketing director wanted me to
work on a totally different project. What am I supposed to do?” she asks,
crying. “I’m think I’m going to quit. I can’t stand the stress!”
“Pauline, I understand that you can’t possibly do two
different things at the same time, but what I don’t understand is why it is so,
so distressing to you.”
“But I can’t do what both of them want!”
“I understand that you can’t do what they both want,” I say.
“But I don’t understand why that throws you into such a state of panic. I don’t
know a lot about you, about your history, your past, so it’s hard for me to
know what might be going on for you, but since your anxiety is so intense, I would
suspect it does have something to do with your childhood. I’m only guessing
here, but was there a lot of conflict between your parents? Did you feel you
had to choose between them?”
“No, not at all. They presented a united front. There was no
room for discussion. You just obeyed. You did what they said. My mother was the
tough one, though.”
Pauline hesitates. I wait.
“This is hard for me to talk about. I feel like I’m
betraying her. She was doing what she thought was best.”
I can feel Pauline’s anxiety. I also see the beginnings of a
connection, the issues of obedience and betrayal perhaps linking the past and
the present.
“You never disobeyed my mother. She wouldn’t talk to you for
days, for weeks if you did. She knew that she and Dad were right and that you
just had to do what they said. I couldn’t stand that silent treatment. I felt
like I’d lost her. So I did what she wanted. Even about work. I was really good
at math and science as a kid. I wanted to be a doctor. But my parents said no,
that I’d never find a husband if I became a doctor, that I’d never have
children and a life, so I couldn’t do it. I was good in art too, so I became a
graphic artist. It’s okay. At least it was.”
Inside I scream, “No! No! You need to do what you want to
do!” Part of this reaction is probably my experiencing Pauline’s unfelt anger
and rebellion. But I know that some of the feelings are all mine. My father was
an angry, explosive man who hated psychology and psychoanalysis and always
opposed my career choice, responding with both anger and contempt. But as
afraid as I was of him, I fought for what I wanted. My grandmother taught me
that. Pauline probably didn’t have such a role model in her past. She
submitted.
“You couldn’t resist your parents and pursue your dream. You
had to submit.”
“Submit. Yes, that’s a good word. I’ve submitted my whole
life. With my parents, with men, with work, whatever.”
“It sounds like that’s why this work situation is so
difficult for you. You have two authority figures wanting different things from
you. You can’t obey them both. So you feel scared just as you did as a child.
Then you can’t think from the place of an adult and figure out a way to handle
the situation however you need to do.”
“That’s true! I always want to please. But I can’t please
two people at once.” She pauses. “So what should I do?”
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