tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19232494199590812062024-03-14T03:37:47.408-04:00Inside/OutsideLinda Sherby Ph.D., ABPP - Licensed PsychologistLinda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.comBlogger259125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-90546568910633854782024-02-26T15:25:00.000-05:002024-02-26T15:25:09.569-05:00Unrelenting Grief<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space-collapse: preserve;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeiRdF4kTPXj73bRkgbQzMpvBrH2W5hUFd-ji24bNgt6qGViPIzLCVDIryXYwXPORL3D-oie7iKtQ9T5SBQG8PJB0Mjukz35VLyunAOrtGExnduMO54AAvVO8weUqOiSryqQmzovNd_zpOb2Aq6IF7gtI9VICABViqscLYZWLLlLSn3TzSUIEFyH04uzc/s800/unrelenting%20grief%202.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeiRdF4kTPXj73bRkgbQzMpvBrH2W5hUFd-ji24bNgt6qGViPIzLCVDIryXYwXPORL3D-oie7iKtQ9T5SBQG8PJB0Mjukz35VLyunAOrtGExnduMO54AAvVO8weUqOiSryqQmzovNd_zpOb2Aq6IF7gtI9VICABViqscLYZWLLlLSn3TzSUIEFyH04uzc/s320/unrelenting%20grief%202.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I just can’t get over this,” Scott says his head buried in his hands, a tall, dark-haired man who looks like he’s in his mid-thirties. “He was 98 years old. Did I expect him to live forever? I loved him so much. And he was always, always there for me. When he and my Grandma decided they couldn’t handle the Kansas farm anymore they moved right next door to us. Actually giving up the farm was pretty hard for me too. I guess I’ve always been a softie. My Dad made fun of me, called me a wuss, a ‘girl,’ too sensitive for my own good. He was always trying to toughen me up. But I loved that farm. It was my safe space. I spent summers there, got to be rid of my Dad and just be loved by my Gram and Gramps. I’m sorry, I’m just rambling all over the place”<br /></span></span><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-a3d91006-7fff-6e9e-82ba-069d1e2d3823"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Not at all,” I say. “I can feel how much you’re grieving.” I am near tears myself, remembering the pain of losing first my grandmother and then, three years later, my grandfather. Remembering too, although my grandparents lived not on a farm but in a three room apartment in the Bronx, I knew what it was to have and lose a safe space. “You’re talking about loss. Most people have a terrible time with loss. Doesn’t mean you’re a wuss. Loss of the farm, loss of the days of feeling safe and protected, now the loss of your Grandpa. Is your Grandma still with you?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, she’s only 90,” he says with a slight smile. “In my family that’s almost young. But the last month has been really hard on her,” he says sobbing. “I guess it’s been really hard on all of us, taking turns sitting by his bedside, holding his hand, first all those machines and tubes and God knows what else. Then, nothing. I don’t know which was worse, hoping for a miracle, or letting go of hope,” he says breaking down in gut-wrenching sobs. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Several minutes pass.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I can’t go on like this. It’s over a month. I have a wife, a precious daughter, a job. I can’t just keep crying.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“A month isn’t a long time, but I understand you’re saying you’re feeling his death too intensely, like it’s entirely consuming you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Exactly! And I keep asking the same thing my father did, ‘What’s wrong with me?’” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I suspect there’s nothing wrong with you, but perhaps we can try to understand the intensity of your feelings. Whose Dad was he, your mother or father’s?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9ec_4pVztJ0knv3LpNl6ZOQ9IhVPbQUsdmVDykM4ZIs9Y_vw2WBqHVMX06hC_kGp5o8nLGtNgVMZYWizyzPFtQYg_jit_24rPbvQveG8RPVXR7sHhPbDTJ-g5ifRM-xA1o3lJoWps__MSw_Hkvr9069E5jKIgIz7oria2qXwJk-X8t8i8DbpGMmOKIw/s800/unrelenting%20grief%205.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="498" data-original-width="800" height="199" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ9ec_4pVztJ0knv3LpNl6ZOQ9IhVPbQUsdmVDykM4ZIs9Y_vw2WBqHVMX06hC_kGp5o8nLGtNgVMZYWizyzPFtQYg_jit_24rPbvQveG8RPVXR7sHhPbDTJ-g5ifRM-xA1o3lJoWps__MSw_Hkvr9069E5jKIgIz7oria2qXwJk-X8t8i8DbpGMmOKIw/s320/unrelenting%20grief%205.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“My mother’s. I never really knew my father’s parents. They were very old and lived across the country so we almost never saw them. I don’t think I even went to their funerals – my Mom probably wouldn’t have wanted me to.”<br /></span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Because?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“She was over protective like that, wouldn’t have wanted me to get too close to death.” Pause. “I had an older brother who died before I was born. I’m not sure my mother ever got over that loss. And she spent a lot of time making sure I wasn’t going to die like he did.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“How did he die?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I guess he was a real dare-devil kid from the moment he was born. Putting things into electrical sockets when he was like two, riding his bike in traffic, climbing taller and taller trees. That’s how he died, fell out of a tree. My Mom was going to have none of that with me.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Are you saying your Dad pushed you to be more like your brother and your Mom pushed you to be anything but?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I never thought about it that way, but that’s exactly right.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And your grandparents?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I was fine however I was.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Wow, that’s quite a contrast. Your grandparents loved and accepted you for just being you. You didn’t have to do or not do anything. That’s an amazing gift. No wonder your grief is so profound.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Scott weeps. After a while he says, “But I have to stop crying. Why can’t I stop crying?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5irzsjOmUwG8zI2Rao7ozI2P9PPx8TRz2V_Vut3p1CGCIm5ljiwn1_mqrCeKtCaGNu6Jasrj-Oq5aGh5fiR07OasAzqWjB4uifqhmuNB7xtPw-0QaTQj1o6DEHDbpLdvI0RHH4PGJpCnFPSr4jUuF1WGqYGnD5V9XUk4DvdCk8K1C_159qPn8PMwSn0A/s800/unrelenting%20grief%204.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="600" data-original-width="800" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5irzsjOmUwG8zI2Rao7ozI2P9PPx8TRz2V_Vut3p1CGCIm5ljiwn1_mqrCeKtCaGNu6Jasrj-Oq5aGh5fiR07OasAzqWjB4uifqhmuNB7xtPw-0QaTQj1o6DEHDbpLdvI0RHH4PGJpCnFPSr4jUuF1WGqYGnD5V9XUk4DvdCk8K1C_159qPn8PMwSn0A/s320/unrelenting%20grief%204.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Because you’ve lost one of the two people who were most able to love you.”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Scott shakes his head. “I think there’s more.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m sure there is. None of our behavior is so simply explained. Do you have any thoughts?”<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I think I’m afraid. I’m afraid of my father. I’ve always been afraid of my father. My Grandpa kept me safe from my father. Now that he’s gone I don’t know if I’ll be safe. I don’t know if I can keep myself safe. And my Grandma’s too depleted. Anyway she wasn’t the one who kept me safe from my father. It was Gramps, Gramps,” Scott says sobbing. “I’m such a baby. I’m a 36 year old man, how can I be so afraid of my father?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I guess that is the question, Scott. What went on between you and your father when you were little that made you so afraid of him? We already know that he was very critical of what he saw as your ‘weakness.’ But perhaps there was more. Our time is up for today, but perhaps we can continue with this next time.” </span></span></p><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-22518884759548612352024-01-13T14:12:00.001-05:002024-01-13T14:12:54.754-05:00Not Again<p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">As Cynthia sits scowling from the chair diagonally across from me, I remember why I was both surprised and less than thrilled to have her call and ask to return to treatment.</span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-641bb08e-7fff-d934-9ee1-c8e230732760"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">After several minutes of us staring at each other I say, “What prompted your wanting to return to therapy with me?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEighbWtHC_4puOFdqEsDGjV0-2IjeKp3RV1kNAksRxg3mfOqTgcSlugV3cH60QUD9YbPmgewYJ7YPPZAGIna4Ak02QP8kTwkZScdbXPG5BHy9bBW6Tcf0yS_7z4KPDbhbx1dXDsOxEiPfH0YRAKJ_oS1Exk8_EdowRMT2a-y0Cfn0QHS79pE-Abunis06g/s800/not%20again%201.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEighbWtHC_4puOFdqEsDGjV0-2IjeKp3RV1kNAksRxg3mfOqTgcSlugV3cH60QUD9YbPmgewYJ7YPPZAGIna4Ak02QP8kTwkZScdbXPG5BHy9bBW6Tcf0yS_7z4KPDbhbx1dXDsOxEiPfH0YRAKJ_oS1Exk8_EdowRMT2a-y0Cfn0QHS79pE-Abunis06g/s320/not%20again%201.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“The New Year,” she says curtly, as if that provides an adequate explanation.<br /></span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And…?” I ask, prodding.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What the fuck! You know people make resolutions about what they’re going to do to improve their lives. As if January 1 was the magic date.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That would imply there were things in your life you wanted to improve.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Of course! You know anyone who doesn’t want to improve their life!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“This all feels very familiar Cynthia. You say you want to improve your life, you asked to come back into therapy with me, yet you’re immediately attacking everything I say.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What? You can’t take somebody challenging you?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Okay,” I say, hoping I’m hiding my desire to strangle her. “Let’s look at that last comment: You can’t take somebody challenging you. What impelled you to make that particular statement?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What? How should I know. It seemed like a good response to your dumb ass comment.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixqNZWkTu_vJycScyeb6l8_YVzhT3bjw0AiGcMCNS-nhxyiF8YKci5w-_ZTfVF_dKdb4mcahFbARPMDWpAkw6r6HAUZtb6c1-8yuIDbkPuqBUDpdRZzcphe3D6pJhLXmmYSUMq26hmNWZohiW_Rh1oEkwZmv_4TL3I4SFOIOTaq4CP95RvQGhsCumLfi0/s800/not%20again%204.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixqNZWkTu_vJycScyeb6l8_YVzhT3bjw0AiGcMCNS-nhxyiF8YKci5w-_ZTfVF_dKdb4mcahFbARPMDWpAkw6r6HAUZtb6c1-8yuIDbkPuqBUDpdRZzcphe3D6pJhLXmmYSUMq26hmNWZohiW_Rh1oEkwZmv_4TL3I4SFOIOTaq4CP95RvQGhsCumLfi0/w320-h213/not%20again%204.webp" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Silently counting to 10, I reflect on how uncomfortable it is to be angry and to have to contain it. “Okay,” I say. “We already know you’re angry. And we know you have good reason to be angry. But would I be making a wild guess to say that perhaps one of the ways you’d like to make your life better is to be less angry?”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">She shrugs.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">We again sit in silence, but this silence feels a bit more comfortable, not as raw, not as challenging.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">She mumbles something.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m sorry,” I say, “I didn’t hear you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It’s not a good way to make friends,” she says, barely over a whisper.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“True. In fact I think that sometimes you use your anger to keep people away.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Why would I want to do that?” she asks, the edge back in her voice.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I wasn’t criticizing you when I said you use your anger to keep people away. I was making a comment that, if correct, might help you to think about when and why you try to keep people away and when you you’d like a person to be closer.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I never know,” Cynthia says, again barely above a whisper. “I do want more people in my life. But when they come at me, I don’t know, I just can’t take it.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Interesting choice of words, Cynthia – when they come at me – like when your parents came at you to punish you, beat you, hurt you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">She nods, dropping her head. “Yeah.” Pause. “People aren’t safe.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Some people are safe.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You can always get them mad.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I guess you’re saying YOU can always get them mad by prodding and poking and challenging. Or by running away.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQqTCxX_qubhMzAewOCEZhTAaLTt3lLdx7_yEjNx1f0QesHuILsFjQm1I28qrJFX7bIWQJYadoBSD8QfLnZrTwnCwzunyAGxr4LOWWDg7VzAyO7enTgh1_-5pQ-BfX2SIBxaDK6NF-zzBl8ao3Eqy_ANK3NW7XEIWEASZzVAL_YpmmfFla8t8bs7w5g4/s1198/not%20again%203.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1198" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLQqTCxX_qubhMzAewOCEZhTAaLTt3lLdx7_yEjNx1f0QesHuILsFjQm1I28qrJFX7bIWQJYadoBSD8QfLnZrTwnCwzunyAGxr4LOWWDg7VzAyO7enTgh1_-5pQ-BfX2SIBxaDK6NF-zzBl8ao3Eqy_ANK3NW7XEIWEASZzVAL_YpmmfFla8t8bs7w5g4/s320/not%20again%203.webp" width="214" /></a></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Who says I run away?!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“There’s that edge again, Cynthia. I say you run away. If you didn’t run away you’d have more people in your life. You’d be less lonely.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I never said I was lonely!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You didn’t imply it?” I ask gently.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">She shrugs. Pause. “I guess.” Pause. “I don’t want people getting too close. I could get hurt.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I understand that, but I wonder if you’re also saying it feels really scary to want people, to need them. Like it feels really scary to need me, to say you want to be here, that you need to be here.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Go fu…” Pause. “I was just going to tell you to go fuck yourself, but then that seemed like exactly what you were saying, that I use my anger to keep people away and maybe it’s because I don’t want to need any of those fucking people who are just going to hurt me again and again.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m impressed, Cynthia, that you were able to catch that yourself, reflect on it and keep yourself from giving an automatic angry response.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah. I guess that was pretty good.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">I smile. “I’m glad you were able to take in a positive comment about yourself and accept it.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I guess.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Now don’t get too enthusiastic,” I say teasingly.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I… I’m glad I came back.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Thank you, Cynthia,” I say. “I’m really, really glad you came back too.”</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-70471746376718206202023-12-08T08:13:00.000-05:002023-12-08T08:13:11.298-05:00Unexpected Fear<p><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I’m so terribly nervous I can’t stand myself,” Kaleigh begins wringing her hands, jiggling her right foot. “I thought I was going to be so excited about going back to Chicago after my first semester at school. But I’m not! I’m suddenly terrified of flying. I was never afraid of flying before. Maybe it’s because of the Israeli-Palestinian war and I’m afraid of terrorism, like of my plane being shot down. I don’t know.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA9uh4TQLtu5iIh78ntvmwZES5Y7G0LwNskDqKrJzQceir3kma37j1Q4CMsLP_jM9eDIThEcZMByTUs0XJZU4uaE__JQGeoUzk3D2FAqt5hYRK4mdbtekGV6E57yTqNKKsP2_MEZj8hNo5UZ7li-igr3Pz892nA1-viSkIPdw4GECBpmr9jbRUamHJV4k/s805/unexpected%20fear%203.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="805" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgA9uh4TQLtu5iIh78ntvmwZES5Y7G0LwNskDqKrJzQceir3kma37j1Q4CMsLP_jM9eDIThEcZMByTUs0XJZU4uaE__JQGeoUzk3D2FAqt5hYRK4mdbtekGV6E57yTqNKKsP2_MEZj8hNo5UZ7li-igr3Pz892nA1-viSkIPdw4GECBpmr9jbRUamHJV4k/s320/unexpected%20fear%203.jpeg" width="318" /></a></span></div><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-c1049a0e-7fff-63b7-544c-7871f2a2b54b"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Are you afraid of your plane being shot down?” I ask.<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t know. It sounds ridiculous. But there was 9/11. Of course I wasn’t even born then, but still… It feels like anything can happen.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Anything can happen, but it is interesting to wonder why you suddenly developed a fear you never had before. Do you feel especially frightened because you’re Jewish?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I asked myself that. I guess someone could bomb the plane because they thought there’d be lots of Jews on it, but it’s not like I think someone’s specifically coming to get me because I’m Jewish.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Any other thoughts come to mind?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I just had a flash of my older sister. She’s not supposed to be there this holiday… But what if she is? That would be pretty scary.” Pause. “Oh God! It would be so terrible if she’s there. She ruins everything. She ruined my whole childhood! She ruined my family,” Kaleigh says crying. Pause. “I’m pretty sure my father told her not to come. But that doesn’t mean she won’t. And then everything would be ruined! All there would be is screaming and more screaming and tantrums and threats!! I can’t stand it.” Pause. “Do you think that’s why I developed a fear of flying? Like maybe I really don’t want to go home. Like maybe I’m afraid of what’s waiting for me.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjagKsw933RerwGY3jv6Y79lbiYPO76BuqwpmozBDx5gZsMgsoQRjtXOX4Xr0SKTlCzSkrvan2RvYyp3NXA-a1FutAhu3TMlDycoEhu9adU9rQNtJYXlT6qEY_n03Ubxs10ynBrsKfFpgaE6SLSl6_hWM2yJMpGf48lFl_6s-b8opGTQNWcY1K1MYSINL0/s1200/unexpected%20fear%208.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjagKsw933RerwGY3jv6Y79lbiYPO76BuqwpmozBDx5gZsMgsoQRjtXOX4Xr0SKTlCzSkrvan2RvYyp3NXA-a1FutAhu3TMlDycoEhu9adU9rQNtJYXlT6qEY_n03Ubxs10ynBrsKfFpgaE6SLSl6_hWM2yJMpGf48lFl_6s-b8opGTQNWcY1K1MYSINL0/s320/unexpected%20fear%208.webp" width="213" /></a></span></div></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Have you asked your parents if she’ll be there.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No, I haven’t. I feel scared about that too. Scared there will be this big scene about my even asking.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Why?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“My mother will immediately get mad at me for being so afraid of my sister. And she’ll be mad that I might bring up the abuse again. She’s never believed me about the sexual abuse. She knows my sister used to beat the shit out of me, but she always dismissed the sexual abuse as two kids just playing around,” Kaleigh says crying. “I don’t know what’s more painful, the abuse or my mother just dismissing it. No, that’s not true. The sexual abuse was way more painful. I haven’t even told you all of it.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Maybe it would be helpful if you did,” I say gently.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“She used to take things, mostly sticks, sometimes a vase or whatever else she found around and put it inside me. A few times she even threatened to use a knife, but she never did.” Pause. “Usually she put it in… in my vagina, but sometimes she’d put it in the other place. That really hurt,” she says crying.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s so awful Kaleigh. I’m so sorry you had to endure that, it sounds like torture. No wonder you’re scared to go home. And I’m so sorry your mother doesn’t believe you. What your sister did is certainly not just ‘playing doctor.’ What about your Dad?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m so glad you believe me! I was afraid you wouldn’t. Afraid you’d think I was just making it up.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Of course I believe you Kaleigh. I can’t imagine why you’d want to make up something like that.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m so ashamed of it. I even lied to my boyfriend and said I’d had sex with one guy before him. It was better than telling him about what my sister did to me!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Shame is a very common in sexual abuse victims, but that doesn’t mean you have anything to be ashamed of. You were the victim. She was bigger and stronger and abused you.”</span></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I know. But that’s not how I feel.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWcNJbEvRDSpxLf2Zt6sIWEeT_oxx3OhGBFETQwRG2SQVT6_b-IiZYSyIC-xo-OFiQRD95lsj_nj9hMDgmErKnRe7L4JFOvg4GnjN5ELR2DtzOUGNUTeoPyEDhdCB8Nm_BjiPUHBwpv0Zuodks1RbxNy-rACk5MGULRZcMY24bndZYKMxrrBQHdlDIeRA/s1200/unexpected%20fear%207.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWcNJbEvRDSpxLf2Zt6sIWEeT_oxx3OhGBFETQwRG2SQVT6_b-IiZYSyIC-xo-OFiQRD95lsj_nj9hMDgmErKnRe7L4JFOvg4GnjN5ELR2DtzOUGNUTeoPyEDhdCB8Nm_BjiPUHBwpv0Zuodks1RbxNy-rACk5MGULRZcMY24bndZYKMxrrBQHdlDIeRA/s320/unexpected%20fear%207.webp" width="213" /></a></span></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I understand. And we’ll have lots of time to deal with those feelings. I notice you didn’t say anything about your Dad.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m pretty sure he believes me, but he’s not about to argue with my mother. It was hard enough for him to tell my sister that she wasn’t welcome in their house anymore after she hit him and trashed the entire living room.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I am so sorry, Kaleigh. Are you sure you do want to go home? Or maybe there’s someplace you can go where you can feel safe if your sister is there?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I can’t imagine announcing that I’m leaving to stay with Brad or even with one of my girlfriends. That would create an uproar in itself.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I know we don’t have time to discuss this further today, but we do need to work on you’re not being so afraid of your fear that you’re willing to sacrifice yourself. Obviously you have good reason to be afraid, but you do need to first and foremost take care of yourself.”</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-64373790418610514682023-11-11T17:56:00.003-05:002023-11-11T17:56:40.533-05:00Missed Sessions<p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space-collapse: preserve;">Jeremy, the prototype of a man who is tall, dark, and handsome, and just beginning to enter middle-age, begins his session by saying, “I won’t be here for the next three weeks. I’ll come back in December.” </span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-fd2b5d62-7fff-ed6b-f5d4-02e3d6eb3f6a"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikod9FFWsIhXGnyOEM9bVM3xZXl0lI80cytQCHOpYVB652y29G2exu_Rexzwfp2YE93P0y-UXv16mLTtONdoNe8Fgoq9VXQ7w6oQPj9YGh-4oCct6YOPBAXtAGXnAPkfZexBkYFVKFZJ9MboAimbwkdmnvTFkK-PuzDx6_QzmUF2yh2p2kGoGvSZ73r3M/s1200/missed%20sessions%201.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikod9FFWsIhXGnyOEM9bVM3xZXl0lI80cytQCHOpYVB652y29G2exu_Rexzwfp2YE93P0y-UXv16mLTtONdoNe8Fgoq9VXQ7w6oQPj9YGh-4oCct6YOPBAXtAGXnAPkfZexBkYFVKFZJ9MboAimbwkdmnvTFkK-PuzDx6_QzmUF2yh2p2kGoGvSZ73r3M/s320/missed%20sessions%201.webp" width="213" /></a></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Are you going out of town?” I ask, surprised. He hadn’t mentioned an upcoming vacation. And I don’t recall him making such an announcement in the two or so years we’ve worked together.</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">He squirms in his chair. “Umm, no. No, I just figured I could do with a little break.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Because?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">He crosses his legs, uncrosses them, then crosses them again. “It’s just beginning to be a bit too much.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What’s the ‘it?’”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“This,” he says, gesturing around my office.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And what’s making it too much?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That,” he says brusquely, gesturing toward me with his chin.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m too much.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">More squirming. “Not you exactly, just this, this questioning, probing, always searching for something more, something deeper.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">I try to think what might have occurred in our last few sessions that may have brought about Jeremy’s desire to flee. “Is there something that happened that made you feel I’m too overbearing, too intrusive?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I knew you’d say this was about my mother!” Jeremy says angrily.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Although I hadn’t been thinking about his mother, I remain silent, waiting to see what might develop.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It’s not about my mother. I haven’t spoken to my mother in weeks. I decided to take a break from her too!” He pauses, taking in what he’s just said. “Shit!! I just agreed with you, didn’t I? This could come straight out of a Woody Allen movie!”<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">I smile. “And like in a Woody Allen movie, I’m going to continue digging. Is it that I’m feeling like your mother or have you experienced me as being more intrusive lately? Or did something happen with your mother?”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhReHhLaNuJZyGsf718T7dbnOxfHGQAWCMHkQz9ywFaE_JzKBmobGgIStzBQILKmZgYeBSoGMtfTqlnvupcVeeOkBKzOL8r1Nvqz3axfG2SIZwkhn6OlnfOw7DGTGIE7-U-p3iNuoYU5fyqGD8UIsTEMg3CWLcarLs33wrnLl3moVSe63yGUFPn08MbRZE/s800/missed%20sessions%204.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhReHhLaNuJZyGsf718T7dbnOxfHGQAWCMHkQz9ywFaE_JzKBmobGgIStzBQILKmZgYeBSoGMtfTqlnvupcVeeOkBKzOL8r1Nvqz3axfG2SIZwkhn6OlnfOw7DGTGIE7-U-p3iNuoYU5fyqGD8UIsTEMg3CWLcarLs33wrnLl3moVSe63yGUFPn08MbRZE/s320/missed%20sessions%204.webp" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t want to. I don’t want to keep thinking and thinking and trying to figure things out. It’s enough already. I need a break!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">I feel frustrated and annoyed and find myself unable to stop. “Can you at least humor me and help me understand why this has come up right now?” As he is about to respond, I realize that I am indeed duplicating his relationship with his mother and say, “Wait! Let me pull back. First, I realize I am repeating exactly the relationship you have with your mother. I’m coming after you more and more. And the more I come after you the more you resist and the more you resist, the more I come after you. But, and maybe this is the piece you need to own. You’re the one who has put up an unbreakable wall. You’ve said ‘no matter what you say or do, I’m not telling you.’ You may have very good reasons for erecting that wall in the past, but now it feels more like a two-year-old who’s having a tantrum. Which doesn’t excuse my behavior of coming after you. I need to look at that myself and figure out why I couldn’t just pull back and let you tell me in your own time.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s a lot to take in.” Pause. “I do appreciate your saying that last part, that it’s not all me, that something got kicked up in you as well. It helps break the cycle you were referring to – chased after, run away; run away, get chased after.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Long pause.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I think I know what happened,” he continues. “I did have a <br />conversation with my mother. But before that I broke up with Charlene. I broke up with Charlene for exactly the reason we’re talking about. I told her I was going out with some friends and she asked where we were going. I wouldn’t tell her. We were only going out drinking, although Charlene did think I drank too much. Anyway, I wouldn’t tell her and she came up with more and more preposterous guesses – going to a strip club, hiring prostitutes, etc. It was ridiculous. The more she came at me, the more intransient I became until I finally said, ‘That’s it, we’re done!’ My mother called the next day and began right away bugging me about what had happened with Charlene and when was I going to settle down and give her grandchildren. I hung up on her.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKGiyT4yyyL_Fv-15ZDlta-H1GMK5k47RaOzfQ6C-9bKM4bn261zemwIjYPK0c2a5bWdD7TNtkjlrbQvXW1qCB7VJ3JK1ewfV1LkTp6jVXt392B-L_0ruAk2iMDD1kQusn9mbEcFwoPbOv8FyOY5PQ5bcxOYYgl7swWZ9bnD9Q1eR6c0swAF-zX8qb8_c/s800/missed%20sessions%205.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKGiyT4yyyL_Fv-15ZDlta-H1GMK5k47RaOzfQ6C-9bKM4bn261zemwIjYPK0c2a5bWdD7TNtkjlrbQvXW1qCB7VJ3JK1ewfV1LkTp6jVXt392B-L_0ruAk2iMDD1kQusn9mbEcFwoPbOv8FyOY5PQ5bcxOYYgl7swWZ9bnD9Q1eR6c0swAF-zX8qb8_c/s320/missed%20sessions%205.webp" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So you were tired of all these pushy women, myself included.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Exactly!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I wonder if you’re so afraid of all these pushy women that you erect barriers to protect yourself or whether you erect those barriers so that women WILL come after you so that you can be ‘justified’ in rejecting them.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Why would I do that?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“We’re almost out of time and you’ll need to tell me whether you’ll be here next week or not, but I think you might want to reject them so you never have to deal with the need for genuine connection that exists within you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Wow! That’s a lot to digest”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, it is. And if you want to take some time to digest it, that’s fine and if you want to come in next week that’s also fine.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Can I think about it and call you?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes.” </span></span></p><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-85836480546222108282023-10-13T07:20:00.003-04:002023-10-13T07:20:59.089-04:00Risk Averse<p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I was talking to my friend Cindy last night,” Jenny begins. “She said she came across this quote from Eleanor Roosevelt ‘Do something every day that scares you.’ I was blown away. That’s just what we’ve been talking about, right?”</span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-7472f72c-7fff-c355-e3c9-13d50bae1915"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmDcTU72PFe0pQeniVIRLNSb0qeyBI7XPjTz3ig1rOGF0DD5fAY46HF2Pv7dv_c46-sXMbi4YXLiVA1yS4STzV7gjSlwcv1FKgjJm-lRD5NjNPl1nxkQu9FYrg3F6ydgCHD8ZdWSXCd7DDBwFGet_7A-frS-RVFFz6pICsEXLNO_Vd2XWo5PHc-d0Lh4/s1200/risk%20averse%208.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJmDcTU72PFe0pQeniVIRLNSb0qeyBI7XPjTz3ig1rOGF0DD5fAY46HF2Pv7dv_c46-sXMbi4YXLiVA1yS4STzV7gjSlwcv1FKgjJm-lRD5NjNPl1nxkQu9FYrg3F6ydgCHD8ZdWSXCd7DDBwFGet_7A-frS-RVFFz6pICsEXLNO_Vd2XWo5PHc-d0Lh4/s320/risk%20averse%208.webp" width="213" /></a></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes,” I agree nodding. “That’s a very profound quote.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But I thought you said you have to feel safe in order to take risks.”<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s also true. But if you wait until your last, last drop of fear and anxiety is gone you might stay stuck forever.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I know,” Jenny says dejectedly. “That’s why I’m here,”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You’re 25 years old Jenny, I don’t think you can say you’re stuck forever.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I know. But we’ve been working for a while now and there are still so many things I’m terribly, terribly afraid of. Meeting new people is a total, complete trauma for me. I hate the first few weeks of school. There are so many new people, new faces, new expectations, new, new, new.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And what is it that you’d say you’re afraid of?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s no secret. The wicked step-mother! What a cliché.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Except your step-mother was a little more wicked than most.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jenny seems to fade away and soon starts visibly shaking.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Jenny, where are you? Can you come back?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m here. I didn’t dissociate. At least I don’t think I did. I knew I was here with you in your office.” Pause. “But perhaps part of me was back there, back in that basement,” she says starting to cry. “Why, why did she hate me so much? What did I do that was so terrible?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Jenny…”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I know. You’re going to say I didn’t do anything. That she hated me because I took my Dad away from her, because she couldn’t have him every minute of his life. But maybe that means I was too demanding, wanted too much!” she adds sobbing.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Is that how it feels, how it felt?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, that I was just a greedy child who would suck her father dry unless Darlene stepped in to protect him! After all, I had killed my mother, why wouldn’t I kill him?!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Do you feel you killed your mother?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Of course!” Pause. “No, no I didn’t kill my mother, she died of cancer!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Mv19xIMr0v08s3qGd2OPmIeoGfIm0399IPG1214BcOhbfv-41_3UTdxkRbEe5eJE4D5r8EuqqpXiez6JGU2y0WYoaI0QP8t7ug0WNte3XB4BS-Li_BrN4YXQFSVKBqfAifki_4x60l6CD6gh8v1E6LnaazlCKw6Fl3bg6Jjmua1iG6qK1K865sYnNUI/s1200/risk%20averse%205.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="800" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5Mv19xIMr0v08s3qGd2OPmIeoGfIm0399IPG1214BcOhbfv-41_3UTdxkRbEe5eJE4D5r8EuqqpXiez6JGU2y0WYoaI0QP8t7ug0WNte3XB4BS-Li_BrN4YXQFSVKBqfAifki_4x60l6CD6gh8v1E6LnaazlCKw6Fl3bg6Jjmua1iG6qK1K865sYnNUI/s320/risk%20averse%205.webp" width="213" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Jenny, it sounds like the rational you knows that you didn’t kill your mother, but perhaps there is a piece of you that feels you did.”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“She died so soon after I was born, before I was one. I don’t remember her at all,” she says sobbing. “Is that killing her? Not remembering her?” Pause. “Maybe I infected her when I was inside her. Maybe there was something so bad about me I contaminated her.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Although the rational me, yearns to counter Jenny’s assessment of her culpability, I wait to see what more primitive material Jenny may unearth. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Darlene would always tell me I was a bad seed, destined to do nothing but hurt and destroy. I fought her, screaming, yelling, thrashing, but she only hurt me more, left me starving in the freezing cold basement. It gets cold in Vermont in the winter. But, truthfully, I believed her. I believed I was a bad, bad person. I had killed my mother. She gave up her life for me. Even neighbors said that. ‘Your mother loved you so much. She gave up her life for you.’ She gave up her life for me and I was so, so angry with her. If she was going to have me, she should have stayed with me!! If she was going to leave me she should never have had me!” Jenny says, sobbing.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">I want to go her and hold her and tell her nothing was her fault and that everything will be all right. Instead, I sit calmly in my chair. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I never said that out loud before,” Jenny says between sobs. “It feels good to say it out loud.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What feels good about saying it out loud?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m not sure. Sort of like I can examine it in the light of day.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And what do you see when you examine it in the light of day, in the light of an adult day?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipnoJhCBlGGNaASvkZWEtA5D9iMX_UsZiOKJiPqRkdJo90LAvbMuuf3gY1Ds2ZUPRLY_aDXuhi04DPIT0uv4Bw1ypuWG_C5psqdI2ZTLRHNIqkq4W9x0vIxWIStE8jgiz-SfkSIhehfPexBA0eys5aYU2CAWIgAqP3OmNaZT6RC33V8_WFRxiEL1bq7Ms/s800/risk%20averse%201.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="800" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipnoJhCBlGGNaASvkZWEtA5D9iMX_UsZiOKJiPqRkdJo90LAvbMuuf3gY1Ds2ZUPRLY_aDXuhi04DPIT0uv4Bw1ypuWG_C5psqdI2ZTLRHNIqkq4W9x0vIxWIStE8jgiz-SfkSIhehfPexBA0eys5aYU2CAWIgAqP3OmNaZT6RC33V8_WFRxiEL1bq7Ms/s320/risk%20averse%201.webp" width="320" /></a></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, that’s it. Saying it out loud brought it into the present, into me as an adult – sort of. It’s like a child fantasy that I’ve carried around my whole life and in the light of day – in the adult light – it doesn’t feel as real or as powerful.”<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div></div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It’s time for us to stop for today, Jenny, but you’ve done amazing work here today. I hope you’re able to be proud of yourself.”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Yes, yes I am,” she says smiling for the first time. “Thank you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Thank you,” I say.</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-51473910777883723452023-09-08T12:09:00.000-04:002023-09-08T12:09:29.688-04:00Mother<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXgAhGMTDOed1U92UZTqaZd8W_Gym2WOdYHz7rmit_v2LU6U7l7NXQqwEjHXIUsWi-WnYMvmN76N6O1P4SlknK9YDVWWchtAPp_HXnfHm73z38SBpvQv58NCnpg70-sBvsVytCA0zlZQdAOt2guV6Pa4DkvzahlzMNfN8qaZ8KcIBunK89sozeoAuyfPU/s692/my%20mother%203.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="692" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXgAhGMTDOed1U92UZTqaZd8W_Gym2WOdYHz7rmit_v2LU6U7l7NXQqwEjHXIUsWi-WnYMvmN76N6O1P4SlknK9YDVWWchtAPp_HXnfHm73z38SBpvQv58NCnpg70-sBvsVytCA0zlZQdAOt2guV6Pa4DkvzahlzMNfN8qaZ8KcIBunK89sozeoAuyfPU/w277-h320/my%20mother%203.webp" width="277" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">“My mother is driving me absolutely crazy,” Jenny begins. “I know that’s an old story, but it’s getting worse. I’m trying to get ready for my 50</span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="vertical-align: super;">th</span></span><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> birthday party and she can literally call me a dozen times a day. She’ll ask me how she can help me with the party and if I give her anything to do she keeps calling with one question after another. ‘Is it okay if I invite my sister? What about my neighbor? Are you having kids come? What about kids under 12? Under 5?’ And those are all separate calls. It’s driving me nuts! I’ve asked that she text me these questions but she just won’t do that. I’m at my wits end.”<br /></span></span><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-525e9f6c-7fff-6c53-8138-8338ab063a34"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What’s your guess as to why she’s calling so often?” I ask. “Is she having some anxiety about you turning 50?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I never thought about that, but maybe. If I’m turning 50 she has to be getting older too. She’s always dreaded aging. But I don’t know, it also just feels like it’s what she’s always done, pretended to be helpless so I would take care of her, which has obviously gotten worse since my father died. I’m tired of being her caretaker. I have enough of my own headaches, my daughter floundering, my husband dissatisfied at work. It’s too much. But my mother is always the one who throws me over the edge. I guess that’s because I see her as so narcissistic and self-involved, never really seeing me or wanting to know what I want.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s obviously been true throughout your life.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Definitely! That’s why it’s so maddening. Even these questions about my party. It’s she who wants to invite her sister – and of course I’m inviting my aunt. She wants to invite her neighbor and it’s she who probably doesn’t want kids at my party.” Pause. “I’m sick of talking about her. I feel I can’t ever get her out of my head. Now she even calls about questions about her money, about her checkbook, about whether she deposited her social security check, which is of course on direct deposit. I guess she’s getting more and more infantile, wanting more and more for me to take care of her.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Alarm bells go off in my mind. “How old is your mother?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Seventy-six.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t mean to be an alarmist, but is it possible your mother is beginning to have cognitive problems?”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxJRYXc7SqXgt338r5_HO0oteTj0u3h7XWnp2Wr0vCuC0zyi7K1Cmv-l7YKUPzCpTC8nNEFUr1bYRoGaon7J2GIVhEIIGM7ds59_avM9csJgc5w-k1v1QJHeRHBE9VwD9erVocsFU27cC9cbwg6-evmsZm1GGJuTb0xiKbfaNMZYMEo2bnYKTH1QOkWI/s600/my%20mother%205.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="399" data-original-width="600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYxJRYXc7SqXgt338r5_HO0oteTj0u3h7XWnp2Wr0vCuC0zyi7K1Cmv-l7YKUPzCpTC8nNEFUr1bYRoGaon7J2GIVhEIIGM7ds59_avM9csJgc5w-k1v1QJHeRHBE9VwD9erVocsFU27cC9cbwg6-evmsZm1GGJuTb0xiKbfaNMZYMEo2bnYKTH1QOkWI/s320/my%20mother%205.webp" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">At least a minute passes as Jenny sits staring at me as though in shock, a deer caught in the headlights. Then she bursts into tears. “I’m terrible! I’m a terrible person, a terrible daughter. My first thought when you said that was, oh no, now I’m really going to have to take care of her! Isn’t that awful?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No, it’s not awful of you. It’s an understandable first thought. You’ve spent your life taking care of someone who didn’t need to be taken care of and it would indeed be horribly ironic if that person does need caretaking at the end of her life. But we may be getting way ahead of ourselves. I don’t know if your mother is having cognitive problems.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It’s just that it makes too much sense for it not to be true. I mean I know we all – especially as we age - lose words occasionally or misplace things – but as soon as you suggested it about my mother I knew it was true. That bit about her social security check did throw me and there have been other things. She didn’t seem to know who the President is although she’s always stayed up on current events. And it wasn’t only that she didn’t know, she didn’t seem to care either. And when she called to ask if she could invite her sister, I got short with her and said, ‘Of course I’m going to invite Aunt Mary.’ The way she reacted, I wasn’t sure she really knew her sister was my aunt.” Jenny pauses and shakes her head. “This is so terrible. What an awful way to end a life! And I’ve been getting so pissed at her lately and I’m sure you’re right, she just can’t help it.”<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But your getting pissed at her makes sense. You’ve seen her constant calling, questioning as a continuation of her playing at being helpless to elicit your caretaking.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCA_6tuEWmbF7_jMSTpLW_I-PXWl-6U_0SKu1x65H_Wbd7ryGE7uYqxMsoK6S_yOeS89EKnRYQ0fFChtvUkrX2ycmkUQlA_eR1xKBiUisRTMMWE_oZn5rnI8O_dLcnvmCyJRt2jIzcjNG-KW3ftzd4aXjIMLToKgpmxUvN446s7xrhLQuBzsnkV0h2F-k/s600/my%20mother%207.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCA_6tuEWmbF7_jMSTpLW_I-PXWl-6U_0SKu1x65H_Wbd7ryGE7uYqxMsoK6S_yOeS89EKnRYQ0fFChtvUkrX2ycmkUQlA_eR1xKBiUisRTMMWE_oZn5rnI8O_dLcnvmCyJRt2jIzcjNG-KW3ftzd4aXjIMLToKgpmxUvN446s7xrhLQuBzsnkV0h2F-k/s320/my%20mother%207.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But it’s not! Or maybe sometimes it still is.”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, that’s possible.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“This is going to be hard.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, it is.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I think I’ll make an appointment with her neurologist. Maybe he’ll be able to tell me how bad she really is. And if anything can be done.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Sounds reasonable.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But they really can’t do anything, can they?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“My understanding is, not much, but it never hurt to explore possibilities and get an idea of where she is at this point.” </span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-65251215375096411852023-08-11T15:00:00.002-04:002023-08-11T15:00:13.084-04:00Pretending<p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I did it!” Charlotte says, gleefully.</span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-567ac51c-7fff-d102-7b0e-c61612b05c32"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Congratulations,” I say enthusiastically, “And welcome back.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m not talking about going by myself to Italy.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Oh! What did you mean?” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I did go by myself to Italy. It was hard. And all you’ve heard about Italian men, don’t believe a word of it. No one gave me a second glance. Oh course, why look at a middle-aged woman when you have all these gorgeous young, half-dressed I might add, girls running around. But seriously, don’t you remember what we talked about our last session?”<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I thought I did but… Oh, Charlotte, you really didn’t…”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtgyoFt1VcaVASckUHQXSA9SkuLkPBRW6y1nqiwU4YzZwaXMehxGgQqxQuWAB6_bEamPfOr6KQxfFj4fW44jHdTPqlFcy3CR7Ax7b5lm-sjBQfNXqimxWw2mVx6tTPpCnAxGXYQ_c90RBKfNlyIjybD4fBce7Zg3d6ssILqJvGh9db4hdIizZ1tRL5qMg/s600/pretending%201.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtgyoFt1VcaVASckUHQXSA9SkuLkPBRW6y1nqiwU4YzZwaXMehxGgQqxQuWAB6_bEamPfOr6KQxfFj4fW44jHdTPqlFcy3CR7Ax7b5lm-sjBQfNXqimxWw2mVx6tTPpCnAxGXYQ_c90RBKfNlyIjybD4fBce7Zg3d6ssILqJvGh9db4hdIizZ1tRL5qMg/s320/pretending%201.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">She smiles broadly nodding at me.</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You pretended you were sick,” I state matter-of-factly.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Correct! You see, not even you can remember me unless I do something daring, outrageous.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Of course I remember you. I didn’t remember that you were considering presenting yourself as someone who was ill, but I remember …”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It doesn’t matter. I figured out how to get the attention I wanted. The more outrageous I made the story the more attention I got. It’s amazing how solicitous flight attendants can be when you tell them you’re dying of cancer or that you just had a chemo treatment.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And is that whose attention you wanted?” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Anyone is better than no one, but no, that’s not whose attention I wanted. But it was fun trying out different stories and seeing what provoked the most sympathy or what made people the most uncomfortable.”<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What did make people the most uncomfortable?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“If they thought I was going to throw up all over them. That was a good one, especially on a plane with the person sitting next to me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Sounds like you took a lot of pleasure making people uncomfortable.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, I did. Felt like I was getting back at all the people who’ve made me uncomfortable, people who look at me like I’m ugly or don’t look at me at all, as if I don’t exist.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What do you feel as you tell me all this?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“First word that came to me? Triumphant!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And since you’ve been home?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOWm8GO0T1-CYPuJ2XPHp_rcgM9Vely9zVDcTjOEIDjsJeU8xbgIKOfSK3IeG7xy_OVfPbSziHaWjVeDqcOVTjWvOlhaW6_QrILXRCdxc-GK5fnH37LKoEBy0TId_AlaoRMxFw83CgudwE5OqKFR3A-IVrHyQOJjyB9Z5_EzunNP9qvv6iLIkdap6EzW4/s900/pretending%202.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOWm8GO0T1-CYPuJ2XPHp_rcgM9Vely9zVDcTjOEIDjsJeU8xbgIKOfSK3IeG7xy_OVfPbSziHaWjVeDqcOVTjWvOlhaW6_QrILXRCdxc-GK5fnH37LKoEBy0TId_AlaoRMxFw83CgudwE5OqKFR3A-IVrHyQOJjyB9Z5_EzunNP9qvv6iLIkdap6EzW4/s320/pretending%202.webp" width="213" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">“It’s back to the same boring life. Biller in an ophthalmologist’s office. Real exciting. A great place to not be seen.” Pause. “But I am thinking about bringing my little pretense back home. Maybe in grocery stores or gas stations – I can go someplace I don’t usually shop. I’ve even considered taking it to work. Who’s to say I couldn’t start telling my co-workers I haven’t been feeling well, that I’ve gone to the doctor, that I have some kind of cancer, etc., etc.”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Charlotte, when you first started talking today I felt annoyed with you, annoyed for the people you were duping and angry that you felt you had to stoop to subterfuge to get people to pay attention to you. But as you’ve kept talking, I find myself feeling sadder and sadder. And I suspect you also feel both angry and sad. You’re such a bright, insightful person. You could do so much more with your life.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Except that I’m ugly.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I know you feel ugly, and this is something you and I constantly disagree about, but you don’t have to be the most beautiful woman in the room to have friends, to have lovers, to have a job that fulfills you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You mean billing doesn’t fulfill me?” she asks sarcastically.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">I sigh. “I know your mother didn’t value you. I know you feel your older sisters were prettier and smarter than you. And given all that, it is still possible to have a meaningful life.” Pause. “You’ve always talked about writing. You certainly demonstrated that you can be creative with your storytelling about yourself. Put the stories down on paper instead of acting them out.” Pause. “I’m sorry. I’m preaching. I know I can’t decide your life for you.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />“I’m 55 years old. Don’t you think it’s too late for me? How do I change now?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaB9ljRnLk4WBMpgXYZFjmp3TyGeNy_mI3ijIg8DgBcIL9zzHFQlP1tIHi78o5ceS-qH6z6yYHs_krzt23iIVbKsXu26vbeQUVeCVmAHUoSEp6OpioIriwQLbfh6VjJJ5BFckKGXRYsxGfoM7H8DCGE_LH_BRalEZHHnubdKDBbyI1xO0PhsHFKO217jA/s600/pretending%203.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaB9ljRnLk4WBMpgXYZFjmp3TyGeNy_mI3ijIg8DgBcIL9zzHFQlP1tIHi78o5ceS-qH6z6yYHs_krzt23iIVbKsXu26vbeQUVeCVmAHUoSEp6OpioIriwQLbfh6VjJJ5BFckKGXRYsxGfoM7H8DCGE_LH_BRalEZHHnubdKDBbyI1xO0PhsHFKO217jA/s320/pretending%203.webp" width="320" /></a></div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You went to Italy.”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And my most fun was spinning a death fantasy about myself.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What was your fantasy about what the trip would be like before you left?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Charlotte drops her head. “I thought I’d meet the love of my life. I know, that’s stupid, ridiculous. I feel like an idiot even saying it.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It’s not stupid, Charlotte, it’s a wish. But maybe it would have been good if we had talked more about your imaginings about the trip before you went so that you could have anticipated several scenarios, thought of the good things that might have happened, as well as the disappointing things. And I know that although many people like it, traveling alone can be very hard.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Charlotte starts to cry. “It was very hard.”</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-22123047751072562262023-07-12T09:01:00.001-04:002023-07-12T09:01:28.745-04:00Considering<p><span style="font-size: large;"> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space-collapse: preserve;">“I wanted to let you know,” Tammy says immediately upon sitting down, “I’m considering changing therapists.”</span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-bc9086d5-7fff-9a40-f728-b82c3ef7a61d"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4hCaM6kiQuHa6lczLETW2EcqKiuUj7BkGnENiBCeGLx_GEMJtjzoK2wyePi6vFbYxgsSvgiVPLnQKnGNGqBroKKwxGy2pyqIZLiEBK7e3pru-m3VwYVmEGN3Fh529qmTDBiAcdl-2AXresG2YMhWWdCYSGnShWfird3oVjNO_QYsHL8bGHYpohrA540/s900/considering%202.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC4hCaM6kiQuHa6lczLETW2EcqKiuUj7BkGnENiBCeGLx_GEMJtjzoK2wyePi6vFbYxgsSvgiVPLnQKnGNGqBroKKwxGy2pyqIZLiEBK7e3pru-m3VwYVmEGN3Fh529qmTDBiAcdl-2AXresG2YMhWWdCYSGnShWfird3oVjNO_QYsHL8bGHYpohrA540/s320/considering%202.webp" width="213" /></a></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">I’m surprised and try to recall what if anything might have occurred in our last session that would have prompted her possible termination. “Because…?” I ask.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“We just don’t seem to be getting anywhere. It’s over two years. And, yeah, I know, therapy is a process, not a destination.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Is this something you’ve been considering for a while?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Uhm. No, not really.”<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Can you say what started your thinking along these lines?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tammy squirms in the chair. “Uhm, I guess I’d rather not.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Why would you rather not?” I ask bemused.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“This is why I want to change therapists! You question everything! You want answers to everything! Why? Why? Why? I’m sick of it.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And what would you prefer instead?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Somebody who just left me alone and let me live my life!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Then why would you want to be in therapy at all?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I considered that too. But not being in therapy feels too scary. I don’t trust myself enough to not be in therapy. Who knows what I might do.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I realize that you’d rather not say what started your thinking about changing therapists, but I think it’s important that you do. You know if you decide to change therapists I certainly would support you in whatever way I could. But given what you just said about not trusting yourself, I suspect that means you know you can make impulsive decisions and that despite you’re not liking to be asked why, it is an important question for you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tammy sighs deeply, rolls her eyes, looks at me and smirks. “I ran into Michael, my ex-boyfriend, Michael.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What do you think?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“He wanted to get back together.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Right. I told him I was engaged to Philip and he just laughed. Said he couldn’t believe I was still with that nerd. And that he bet I was still in therapy with you too. I told him yeah, I was. He says it figures, that you’d want me to be with a loser, always chasing my own tail.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Do you feel I want you to be with a loser?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No, not exactly, but you are always pointing out how good Philip is to me, how he cares for me and tries to take care of me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And those are bad things?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No, of course not. But they can get kind of boring.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Did you have sex with Michael?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No, but I was tempted.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So it’s Philip or Michael and me or some other therapist?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I guess that’s about right.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And who’s the other therapist?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEY1-OsLrmpiCY5oSehY1oqNIpm2nJH1qaCpqdgXe3MaTxNBDDGjD2WEsnANiTE2x1M_7h98p8EYDzv3M-FET-ClJ40Cgxm39lb-CSVXxDyiJzCHYh6__mTviyC5wKPgCMirp1aG5l8BiH6q4S6rPW3FAgfu1kEdb8jrn9mn5z53ph_9Lcg9Q-_jMRjg/s900/considering%203.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQEY1-OsLrmpiCY5oSehY1oqNIpm2nJH1qaCpqdgXe3MaTxNBDDGjD2WEsnANiTE2x1M_7h98p8EYDzv3M-FET-ClJ40Cgxm39lb-CSVXxDyiJzCHYh6__mTviyC5wKPgCMirp1aG5l8BiH6q4S6rPW3FAgfu1kEdb8jrn9mn5z53ph_9Lcg9Q-_jMRjg/s320/considering%203.webp" width="213" /></a></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten that far.” Pause. “But maybe he would be a man. That would be different; might make it more interesting.”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Are you saying it might make it more dangerous or more sexual…”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m not sleeping with any therapist!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I wasn’t suggesting you were, but wondering if having a male therapist would introduce the possibility of sex into the treatment and that might feel more tantalizing.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I chose a female therapist in the first place because I didn’t want that sexual element to be a part of it.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And now you think you might?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t know. I guess that’s why I said I was considering changing therapists, not that I’d decided.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“This is a big conflict for you, Tammy: safety and comfort on the one hand, or excitement and danger on the other. It gets played out with Michael and Philip, with me and a male therapist, and also in your work. Should you give up your job as a nurse and see if you could make it as a singer?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s just a dream, I’m not doing that. Too risky.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And are you comfortable, resolved saying that?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Makes me a little sad, but yeah. I’m 36, I’m not making it onto the charts. Too many of me out there.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So that’s one of the things you’ve come to accept.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah, I guess.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlIX0JjK12Enm6wufoDku7AiXZvGpdp7dVqfZEzDC81H95NyOSpOxc3adpbLa1i5E6tmEfqEVMNHgaNPbh12k_YDpwMjtQ39GjiY9pr2BtmZV4KOR9Jm5Lfssocm6uKYsiwuIb95srxt2pMsW2xgWiIflrysMH78lsL8dyDLWnehpV6LbsbtbzJbyWQ70/s900/considering%201.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlIX0JjK12Enm6wufoDku7AiXZvGpdp7dVqfZEzDC81H95NyOSpOxc3adpbLa1i5E6tmEfqEVMNHgaNPbh12k_YDpwMjtQ39GjiY9pr2BtmZV4KOR9Jm5Lfssocm6uKYsiwuIb95srxt2pMsW2xgWiIflrysMH78lsL8dyDLWnehpV6LbsbtbzJbyWQ70/s320/considering%201.jpeg" width="213" /></a></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You know, it actually might have been helpful for you to have seen a male therapist from the start…”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">Tammy shakes her head adamantly from side to side.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No?” I inquire.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No. Then I really couldn’t have trusted myself and who knows what stupid thing I might have done, maybe even made an ass of myself and tried to seduce the guy.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So maybe now the question is do you want a break from the nice, caring me and/or Philip and add a bit of spice to your life in the way of Michael and/or a male therapist.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I guess so.” Pause. “I don’t know. I guess I’d like to continue considering it.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That sounds like an excellent decision. And we can continue to talk about it as well.”</span></span></p><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-83823557878836578052023-05-19T12:53:00.001-04:002023-05-19T12:53:32.898-04:00You’re Number Five<p><span style="font-size: large;"> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’re number five,” Alex says upon sprawling languidly in the chair opposite me.</span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-d46b25ce-7fff-e767-d0d9-f7385244fe77"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Number five?” I ask. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, you’re the fifth therapist I’ve seen. I liked your website, maybe a bit too sappy, but still pretty good.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8abikI3ovgt97OJH4wjcTt8BLcpHrhUPwsKGZML4mPpeZGq4U3pxx7YHdpG1cP2t4xtiedHDzLsAbNvvvraRExiJ126HmGm-x7XQ0MMVmTOlI7ZpuZZ8kiJT6_vBTurkDxPa-bIoLZ9yKXdNemRx-jHzxrQJRUf1--phsqzfp9nNW1HxYowtDt-GN/s2250/may-19-you're%20number%205.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2250" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8abikI3ovgt97OJH4wjcTt8BLcpHrhUPwsKGZML4mPpeZGq4U3pxx7YHdpG1cP2t4xtiedHDzLsAbNvvvraRExiJ126HmGm-x7XQ0MMVmTOlI7ZpuZZ8kiJT6_vBTurkDxPa-bIoLZ9yKXdNemRx-jHzxrQJRUf1--phsqzfp9nNW1HxYowtDt-GN/s320/may-19-you're%20number%205.webp" width="320" /></a></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What happened to the other four therapists?” I say, choosing to ignore his comment about my website.</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I fired them.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Because…?”<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Because they weren’t smart enough. Well, I guess that’s not completely true. I saw the first one for maybe a year. He was pretty good, but then I moved, so that was the end of him. The other three I saw here, but like everything else in Florida, they were just too stupid.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You certainly sound as though you’re angry, angry and hard to please, like nothing is good enough.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Okay, that’s not a bad comment. You’d get about a seven out of ten for that.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Feeling myself becoming annoyed, I say, “Why don’t you tell me about yourself and about how I can help you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s just it, I don’t know if you can help me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Then tell me what brings you here.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m not happy.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Because…?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"> “Because the world is a shit place. Because people are stupid and insensitive and uncaring.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I hesitate and then decide to say what came to mind for me. “And you see yourself as sensitive and caring?”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSwuNrktqggYMIgxF_Wx3lgTYteNZszA4kBv_dLZAdyhar3XN99z4uWTRZclNnurSlHE1ZCZfPuwxQulAYwC_oGbsiOE1NZcHFXR5g6gAx8b7t651nkAYWPyzZgPjbF8_JDHPnQf7Tr7RG7SGYokkNmTme_MDSGsKbMuOw57aoXeEL3qIH-nSTB1XC/s6000/may-19-you're%20number%205%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6000" data-original-width="4000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSwuNrktqggYMIgxF_Wx3lgTYteNZszA4kBv_dLZAdyhar3XN99z4uWTRZclNnurSlHE1ZCZfPuwxQulAYwC_oGbsiOE1NZcHFXR5g6gAx8b7t651nkAYWPyzZgPjbF8_JDHPnQf7Tr7RG7SGYokkNmTme_MDSGsKbMuOw57aoXeEL3qIH-nSTB1XC/w133-h200/may-19-you're%20number%205%203.jpg" width="133" /></a></span></span></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Alex laughs sarcastically. “I see you didn’t include smart in that and, yeah, I see myself as smart even though you didn’t ask. Sensitive and caring, not so much, but probably more than you think.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Alex, this isn’t a sparring contest. I imagine you are more sensitive and caring than you appear, and that your aggressive, confronting tone is more of a defense against whatever sad or scary feelings lie underneath. If I’m going to be your therapist, I need to have a sense of who you really are, so maybe you could tell me a little about those scary feelings.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Wow! You go right for the jugular, don’t you?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I bite back my first impulse which is to say ‘Takes one to know one,’ assuming that would just continue the one upmanship. Instead I say, “How about telling me a story from your childhood.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">He smirks. “Yes, that’s right, you’re a psychoanalyst.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Silence.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Silence. Another tool.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I understand that change is hard, Alex, but there’s nothing to be gained by your being here, unless you’re willing to give us a chance as opposed to assuming I’m the enemy or a dueling partner.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You’re pretty good. I can’t rile you up.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“There are lots of clever rejoinders I could give to your statements, Alex, but this isn’t supposed to be a debate. We’re supposed to be on the same side.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No one has ever has been on my side.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s sad,” I say, feeling a ray of hope. “Can you tell me who particularly you were thinking of?”<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“My mother died of cancer a year after I was born – although obviously that wasn’t her choice – my father hated me because he was stuck with me, my older brother hated me because he blamed me for my mother’s death, my father’s mother thought I was a nuisance, my teachers all hated me because I was such a smartass – which I was – my wife divorced me and turned the kids against me, etc., etc. Get the picture?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Sounds like a pretty dismal picture. But it also seems, at least in some instances, that you’ve helped the picture stay dismal by, as you said, being a smartass which only ends up driving people away. I’m sure that ‘smartass’ way of being felt essential for your survival as a kid, but now it’s a hindrance that drives people away and leads to your being alone and unhappy.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m not unhappy. I’m just not happy.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXAF0lTLOns5LonWrWA0IQii9Vga6IwB38XO_C1fwV7NpBeMfXkRoxhxquKGTrAAbwXEKH_toydJqIysmAYmBFnyaG1pSKnSSEnyhjfZ3ikWR_-vaoGTYKHAG7r48VQAfVt3HrADhNbMXTx2wwKHB_mhia8uWMyC_YiyFlpKiqz0wJVygW2mrBO82q/s6240/may-19-you're%20number%205%204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="6240" data-original-width="4160" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXAF0lTLOns5LonWrWA0IQii9Vga6IwB38XO_C1fwV7NpBeMfXkRoxhxquKGTrAAbwXEKH_toydJqIysmAYmBFnyaG1pSKnSSEnyhjfZ3ikWR_-vaoGTYKHAG7r48VQAfVt3HrADhNbMXTx2wwKHB_mhia8uWMyC_YiyFlpKiqz0wJVygW2mrBO82q/s320/may-19-you're%20number%205%204.jpg" width="213" /></a></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Not happy and alone?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And sad?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Before Alex responds I rush to say, “Not a smartass response.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">He laughs. “Yes, and sad.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And you’ve been sad most of your life and you cover it over by being sarcastic and pretending you don’t need anyone.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Thank you for giving me genuine responses.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You’re welcome. And thank you encouraging me to make that possible.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You’re welcome.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pause.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So are we deciding to work together?” I ask.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah, I guess I’ll give number five a chance,” he says smiling genuinely. “I promise I’ll be easier on you next time.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t imagine you’ll be able to give up your defenses that readily, so I don’t think either one of us should expect you to be an entirely different person by next week. Maybe we’ll just be able to be lighter about your smartass responses, as opposed to thinking you won’t have any.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Sounds reasonable, Doc. Thanks.”</span></span></p><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-65874717319584821882023-04-07T13:20:00.001-04:002023-04-07T13:20:38.287-04:00Lying Part II<p><span style="font-size: large;"> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0WmJqVDskSFxRqFJzsCL-cM7lWGfCXNoz7ya3WPgO8CBX5uvxslo26BxEhXFG6O3_tfry306HLRSK4cmE-4YiFeNFGSmOdKjU2I6N8TNNJE0WTwPOAaVMFgoEQWYxlINWW4RgaLsKvBvQkFYzzrIeDl5e20DqyyaDrEhe31al6YAmn9qCQkCZ4SpC/s600/april-7-23lying%20II%201.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0WmJqVDskSFxRqFJzsCL-cM7lWGfCXNoz7ya3WPgO8CBX5uvxslo26BxEhXFG6O3_tfry306HLRSK4cmE-4YiFeNFGSmOdKjU2I6N8TNNJE0WTwPOAaVMFgoEQWYxlINWW4RgaLsKvBvQkFYzzrIeDl5e20DqyyaDrEhe31al6YAmn9qCQkCZ4SpC/w320-h213/april-7-23lying%20II%201.webp" width="320" /></a></span></div><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“When I left your office last time I was thinking that I’d go home and confess to my Mom that I really hadn’t wanted to kill myself,” David begins immediately. “But that’s not what happened. My Mom had called my Dad and he was there when I got home. He wasn’t happy. He asked me what kind of shit I was pulling, why I had to scare my Mom, that he knew I was just bullshitting and I better knock it off and he wasn’t paying for any wimpy therapy. My Mom jumped in and said she would pay for it, that if her son even had a fleeting notion of killing himself, she was going to be sure he got help. My father exploded. Told her she was an idiot. That she was making me a Momma’s boy and that he didn’t want anything to do with either of us. Then he stormed out of the house.” </span><p></p><p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Wow! I’m sorry David.” </span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-0be893aa-7fff-8ff6-2ffd-bc8e89682b9c" style="font-family: inherit;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I was shaking. I did tell her I liked you and that I promised I wouldn’t kill myself. I asked if she’d really pay for therapy, even if Dad refused and screamed and yelled. She said she would, but I was scared all week it wouldn’t happen. But I’m here!” he says with an almost-smile. “My Mom gave my father the cold shoulder all week and my father hardly said a word to me, but something must’ve worked.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And how did all that make you feel?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Scared, really scared.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I certainly can understand that. But I imagine you must have felt really angry with your father. And how did you feel about your Mom sticking up for you?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I was surprised.” Pause. “I guess I really scared her last week,” he says with a sly grin.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So you’re pleased that you scared her, helped get her in your corner.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Oh no, I wouldn’t say that. I don’t want to scare my Mom.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Maybe part of you doesn’t want to scare your Mom, David, but I wonder if that’s completely true of all of you. You said last week you were angry at your Mom for always going over to your Dad’s side. But this was one time she didn’t. You won. You told her you wanted to kill yourself and that did it! She was staying on your side.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd00nYqxutBvXN6YkDL5oWaCei_WnCD17EhVMrvexwSAfYT57qi9hjbctVdXl_gtx4zSh0668-SYZGWBQF9rjEhPbNtYuaQX6OZJFs0o4FBtugeRX9566KA1EonYlCJ9sGTvRDLuBnxnYUpyU95raTvSoQOTvELT2XotJqE_iDInA0qp0Fxhxv_RUO/s900/april7-23lying%20II%202.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd00nYqxutBvXN6YkDL5oWaCei_WnCD17EhVMrvexwSAfYT57qi9hjbctVdXl_gtx4zSh0668-SYZGWBQF9rjEhPbNtYuaQX6OZJFs0o4FBtugeRX9566KA1EonYlCJ9sGTvRDLuBnxnYUpyU95raTvSoQOTvELT2XotJqE_iDInA0qp0Fxhxv_RUO/w213-h320/april7-23lying%20II%202.webp" width="213" /></a></span></div></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“Yeah, I guess that’s true.” Pause. “But that makes me feel bad.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“I think you do feel bad about being angry, David, particularly at your Mom. That’s why I said last time that I thought your lying was a way for you to express your anger. It’s a way of getting back at her for not always being in your corner.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“Oh! Now I get it.” Pause. “But it’s not like I feel angry and then deliberately decide I’m going to lie to my Mom to get back at her. Usually I lie to make her feel better.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“But is that really genuinely making her feel better, David? If you got an A+ on a paper and told her you got an A+ on a paper that would be genuinely making her feel better. But if you got a C on a paper and told her you got an A+ that would be putting one over on her, telling her she can’t make you study more or do better than you want to and that you resent the pressure she puts on you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“How did you know that? How did you know that I resent the pressure she puts on me?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">I smile. “I didn’t know that, David. I was actually just making it up but I think it’s pretty common for adolescents to resent the pressure their parents put on them.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“I guess,” he says, sullenly.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“What’s going on David?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“What?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“I don’t know, you sounded unsure.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Silence.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“Oh. Do you think I’m lying to you? You think what? That your mother told me that she put pressure on you to do better in school?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">Silence.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVbcPvdhdLImj6LC6sZFkVRvt0d8unk22wPMiMKBIgc6uSxtZkViQfC-ljNz5pE3tMQczeX4rYr7BuMEBbQhvpowKDN0JEjO9QqxVo1bmmeeYUf976auGyhk-DzYVQtVTTK0_wUY15ahqGDF-OEHX-jIs62FEvd4eKuuG4boDpoYuMMqaOVqL8kAs/s900/april-7-23lying%20II%203.webp" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzVbcPvdhdLImj6LC6sZFkVRvt0d8unk22wPMiMKBIgc6uSxtZkViQfC-ljNz5pE3tMQczeX4rYr7BuMEBbQhvpowKDN0JEjO9QqxVo1bmmeeYUf976auGyhk-DzYVQtVTTK0_wUY15ahqGDF-OEHX-jIs62FEvd4eKuuG4boDpoYuMMqaOVqL8kAs/s320/april-7-23lying%20II%203.webp" width="213" /></span></a></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“I guess that’s a problem with lying, David, you end up assuming that everyone lies to you too. I promise you, I will never, ever lie to you, even if telling the truth is difficult or hurtful. Therapy necessitates openness and honesty and that’s hugely important to me.”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“Okay.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“Sounds like that means ‘okay, I’ll try to believe you.’ Let me also say, David, that if your Mom or Dad ever contacts me I will tell you that they did and will tell you what they said. And I’d tell them I was going to tell you before they spoke to me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“Really? That sounds pretty good. So there would be no secrets?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“No, no secrets. Oh, I should say if you told me you were going to hurt yourself and I believed that was a real possibility, I would contact your Mom.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“I get that. That’s okay. I’m not going to kill myself.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">“I’m very glad to hear that.” </span></span></p><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-69871033263569182482023-03-10T13:37:00.005-05:002023-03-10T13:38:34.914-05:00Lying<p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">He sits fidgeting in the chair, alternately looking down at his hands and staring at me. I don’t usually treat 17 year old boys, but his mother was frantic when she called, convinced that her oldest son David was going to commit suicide. </span></span></p><p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWlkpUCLaY20Fp9ZKNKPmALew7Bj7bmFp4ILTWkdIFECUZPva6AnCuBwXC6QWmJx-HrpDPUxRTU3ldoF8OPSzph19XNWMLc1dzCjVMNwQGa6astoQFEpF2iHxnmlRBK1uZUGEaDIIyllshYja4iZeYqCBljBq5a-8QvGlZ5u17CqfKmkxecqK6qW94/s900/march10-2023-lying%201.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWlkpUCLaY20Fp9ZKNKPmALew7Bj7bmFp4ILTWkdIFECUZPva6AnCuBwXC6QWmJx-HrpDPUxRTU3ldoF8OPSzph19XNWMLc1dzCjVMNwQGa6astoQFEpF2iHxnmlRBK1uZUGEaDIIyllshYja4iZeYqCBljBq5a-8QvGlZ5u17CqfKmkxecqK6qW94/s320/march10-2023-lying%201.webp" width="213" /></a></div><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-e407da0e-7fff-5b4f-869a-9cea6cb3051b"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">After several minutes of silence I say, “Your mother was very worried about you. Have you been thinking of killing yourself?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">He wrings his hands, continuing to move jerkily in the chair. “It’s a lie,” he says, almost in a whisper. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What’s a lie?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">He swallows. Tears brim in his eyes. “I don’t want to kill myself. I just made that up.” Pause. “Like always.” Pause. “I always lie. I don’t know if I can tell the truth. You know, like that guy Santos, the Congressman,” his words now coming out in a rush. “I wasn’t sure I could tell you the truth. I’m still not sure, but I’m going to try. I have to try. I don’t want to be the laughing stock of the country when I grow up. I don’t want to be the laughing stock of the school right now!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I flash on a childhood friend when we were both in the third grade. She told the class she had three siblings, although she only had one. Since we lived in the same building the teacher asked me if it was true. I didn’t want to get my friend into trouble so I said I didn’t know. I felt compassion for my friend. I’d seen her mother scream at her and beat her with a belt. I feel a similar compassion for this young man who sits across from me. I’ve known compulsive liars, people who wanted to gain an advantage over others or who enjoyed the power of putting one over on someone. But my guess so far is that isn’t David. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Vl8Q2Nzsxka2etdb45MpomFLYGABlbCta0_fXyRe7V7v3pUGo8k7wlk3i8V2RimKswvAzvA-LfCU2wQ94BCNyUO-1ywcA9FlT7P-bJ2cWp3PWXxZsoISZDBdRr9Lr5KuhHqxIzBML6tCSIeV_ZNoe3sd3-aYduVz_pkyc0aC3ONsoE__y7RNlbVy/s600/march10-2023lying-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4Vl8Q2Nzsxka2etdb45MpomFLYGABlbCta0_fXyRe7V7v3pUGo8k7wlk3i8V2RimKswvAzvA-LfCU2wQ94BCNyUO-1ywcA9FlT7P-bJ2cWp3PWXxZsoISZDBdRr9Lr5KuhHqxIzBML6tCSIeV_ZNoe3sd3-aYduVz_pkyc0aC3ONsoE__y7RNlbVy/s320/march10-2023lying-4.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Have you always lied?” I ask David gently.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It’s been worse since high school. But… but I guess I always lied at home. I lied to protect my Mom, to make her feel better. I’d tell her about my friends in school, about how well I did playing soccer. Those were all lies.” Pause. “I know I didn’t make her feel better by telling her I wanted to kill myself. I guess I do sometimes think I would be better off not being here, but I know I said it like I was going to do it any minute now.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Why did you want to give her that impression, David?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I guess I felt desperate, like I have to talk to someone, to someone I can tell the truth.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And what is the truth?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m a bad person. I hate so many people. I hate my Dad, my younger sister, the jocks in school. Sometimes I even hate my Mom and that makes me really bad.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Because?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Because she tries so hard. And I know how much she loves me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“She tries so hard to…?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“To make everyone happy. To get along with my Dad. To keep him from yelling at me. But she can’t. And in the end she’ll say, ‘Well you know your Dad just wants what’s best for you’ or ‘You know your Dad’s under a lot of pressure.’”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So in the end you feel she sides with him.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">He nods his head. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And that feels pretty awful.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes. But I shouldn’t hate her for that. She’s just trying to do what’s best, what’s best for everyone.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But maybe doing what’s best for everyone isn’t what’s best for you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I guess.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What would you like her to do?” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“To tell my Dad to fucking lay off!! Oh, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I apologize. I…”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You don’t have to apologize, David. Here you get to say anything and everything you want.” Pause. “Has your Dad always picked on you, David?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">He nods. “He’s a college football coach. As you can see I’m not exactly made in his image. I’m this little, puny, ugly kid who’s sucked at sports all my life. He’s the life of the party. I’d rather go read a book. He can’t stand looking at me. So I make things up. I make myself more than I am.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKER9SRYbBUk7cd5oiVHIxEJeXMEDNXDHHYeoveFGlYV283Sdvs0CYKNnv-zepBlzh1MuWuSO2uR9knWjkweIUmCNhmU9Q6WAP2s65vOn7v3ulZbKBMh-oSGs75hbtLuXZbW_OzRjehNLqAw5vZIxoDFFShoaANGFFfu_Nbmr92-cfSvQFTPE5HQj1/s903/march10-2023-lying-5.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="903" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKER9SRYbBUk7cd5oiVHIxEJeXMEDNXDHHYeoveFGlYV283Sdvs0CYKNnv-zepBlzh1MuWuSO2uR9knWjkweIUmCNhmU9Q6WAP2s65vOn7v3ulZbKBMh-oSGs75hbtLuXZbW_OzRjehNLqAw5vZIxoDFFShoaANGFFfu_Nbmr92-cfSvQFTPE5HQj1/s320/march10-2023-lying-5.webp" width="213" /></a></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m so sorry, David, sorry that your Dad can’t appreciate you for the caring, sensitive person you are.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Sensitive is the last thing my father wants me to be. He constantly accuses me of being too sensitive. And if I’m so caring, how come I just scared my Mom?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“My guess is that you lie as a way of expressing your anger, as a way of fighting back and not being the puny, too-sensitive kid.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m not sure I get that.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s fine, David. It’s kind of a heavy statement to throw at you just as we’re ending this session. We can pick up from here next time.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So you will work with me?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Definitely. It would be my pleasure.”</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-56907148141042723922023-02-10T09:53:00.003-05:002023-02-10T09:58:12.596-05:00Please Help Me<p> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“My name is Lisa Henry. I’m forty. And I’m desperate. If you can’t help me I don’t know what I’ll do,” says this clearly anxious woman whose appearance reminds me of the stereotypical 50s housewife, page boy hair style, pink dress gathered at the waist, flaring outward. “Can you help me?”<br /></span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-5017d700-7fff-accf-9dcc-2cc7d6148347"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_s4weQ4LiwQUindUTUcGl8QzdWogl_C5Yvdbj38z61he0c5N5MlMYverK6ubmEsbmXH22T7xaVz6f7R1x71WH0C_j13ZqwjbUTQvLJqOzfqEOO_PQbTn10w_VW40jMm1vgH2WjGl61611E4ld_Z9FrVj5NSTVnsbJD5dYq0RelsOxUJOBPssGi2D/s2250/2-10-23-please-help-me-4.webp" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2250" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiz_s4weQ4LiwQUindUTUcGl8QzdWogl_C5Yvdbj38z61he0c5N5MlMYverK6ubmEsbmXH22T7xaVz6f7R1x71WH0C_j13ZqwjbUTQvLJqOzfqEOO_PQbTn10w_VW40jMm1vgH2WjGl61611E4ld_Z9FrVj5NSTVnsbJD5dYq0RelsOxUJOBPssGi2D/w320-h213/2-10-23-please-help-me-4.webp" width="320" /></a><br /><br /></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I think you’ll first need to tell me what you need help with.”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“My son.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Silence.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“He… he just told me that he’s … that he’s gay,” she says taking a deep breath. “There, I said it!” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I gather that’s a problem for you?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">She looks startled. “Of course it’s a problem. How could it not be!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Is it a problem for your son?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“He says it isn’t, but that’s impossible. He was a normal boy. He played baseball. He was always popular.” Pause. “And he grew up in our family.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And what was it like growing up in your family?”
</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKeRdHPUNaziummGWKOnXN-fRdwwx671REYDW0Ix7hR_fdY_di97IGjjwsCHVNa2K6RYrQ6_byJUxLD-UwPfGaAZ1-zpm1hnxY5xdxqsPBlAWeZqje1Qq9I_KVvc9r18Hwjf0Eew_s8YDy3cWM-wH2HlUVGCD8Ua4FrA3RlfidVWBABztWOrGp3J7B/s2250/2-10-23-please-help-me-9.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2250" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKeRdHPUNaziummGWKOnXN-fRdwwx671REYDW0Ix7hR_fdY_di97IGjjwsCHVNa2K6RYrQ6_byJUxLD-UwPfGaAZ1-zpm1hnxY5xdxqsPBlAWeZqje1Qq9I_KVvc9r18Hwjf0Eew_s8YDy3cWM-wH2HlUVGCD8Ua4FrA3RlfidVWBABztWOrGp3J7B/s320/2-10-23-please-help-me-9.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“We’re a Christian family. My husband is always praying and reading the Bible. And of course we pray as a family before every meal. We eat together. There are seven of us. My son – the one I’m talking about – he’s my eldest. My husband will never, ever accept this. I’m afraid he’d disown my son, but that’s not going to be necessary because you’re going to help me, right?”<br /></span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Mrs. Henry, exactly what do you want me to help you with?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Telling me how to convince my son he’s not gay.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m sorry, but there’s no way I can do that. I can’t convince anyone that he isn’t gay and I can’t help anyone to change in any way who isn’t in my office and who doesn’t want to change.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s the first thing we need to do. We need to convince him he does want to change, that he isn’t gay and if he needs to see you that’s fine.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m sorry, Mrs. Henry. I can’t do that. I can help you try to come to terms with your son being gay…”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No way,” she interrupts. “You have no idea what you’re saying! I could never accept such a thing. And even if I could … could … I don’t know, … pretend it’s not happening, my husband would never, ever be able to even look at my son again.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I realize I have been so taken aback by this woman’s request, that I have been debating with her, rather than dealing with her underlying feelings. “That’s really sad, Mrs. Henry. You must be feeling very sad and scared that there’s going to be this tremendous breach in your family and that you might even lose your son.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No, no, no. That’s not going to happen. It can’t happen again. It can’t,” she says, starting to cry.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m sorry, what do you mean it can’t happen again?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s what happened to me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I look at her, totally bewildered.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I lost my family,” she says in a whisper. “My family were orthodox Jews. When I married outside the religion my family sat shiva for me. I haven’t seen any of them since.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m so sorry. That must be terribly painful.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">She nods, as tears fall down her face. “But I thought I put it behind me. I made my own family. And I was always going to have that family, the family I have now. You see, that’s why you have to help me, you have to help me not lose another family.”</span></span></p></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7N1uKK3diJSPv0d3soKAnf_IDxgL2crUfakZsK8X1lrvTpakxoBL4Gk3PSSdjq0vWdWxPUMB5ifaKwxYORUD_aNqY4_KJFrcHZKtTh5LvARFgKZ8RCEaJsOPAGe4X55x6zG49y2HUbQ_iNlqhtPKIrpOPRiG950YCfmhczMJai3OnoKoPmu8gfjIc/s1500/2-10-23-please-help-me-6.jpeg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="1000" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7N1uKK3diJSPv0d3soKAnf_IDxgL2crUfakZsK8X1lrvTpakxoBL4Gk3PSSdjq0vWdWxPUMB5ifaKwxYORUD_aNqY4_KJFrcHZKtTh5LvARFgKZ8RCEaJsOPAGe4X55x6zG49y2HUbQ_iNlqhtPKIrpOPRiG950YCfmhczMJai3OnoKoPmu8gfjIc/w133-h200/2-10-23-please-help-me-6.jpeg" width="133" /></a></span></span></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I understand why you feel so desperate, but there are some things I can help you with and some things I can’t help you with. I can help you to grieve the family you lost, your family of origin. I can perhaps help you to accept your son’s gayness. And I might even be able to help you find a way to talk with your husband about your son…”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">She shakes her head vigorously.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I understand that seems impossible to you now and it may be impossible, but I can help you to maintain a relationship with your son regardless of how your husband feels…”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No, that’s not possible either. He would never allow it.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Do you love your husband, Mrs. Henry?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, of course, what kind of question is that?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Does he love you?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">She hesitates for a moment but says, “Yes, yes of course.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So your relationship is important to both of you. Perhaps that means you could talk, negotiate…”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No. My husband makes all the decisions.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And did your father make all the decisions?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, yes he did. How did you know that?” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Different religion, but similar way of being in the world.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, that’s true.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Mrs. Henry, our time is almost up for today and I don’t know if you want to continue working with me or not. I can’t help your son be not gay. I can help you deal with the very painful situation you’re in now, which also brings up a very painful loss in the past. But you’ll have to decide if that’s the kind of work you want to do before you decide whether or not to work with me.”<br /></span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t know.” Pause. “Can I think about it?” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Of course. Just call and let me know what you decide. And know that regardless I wish you the best.” </span></span></p><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-40978949926487195492023-01-13T09:23:00.002-05:002023-01-13T09:23:18.308-05:00Another Year<p><span style="font-size: large;"> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsLjEnFIYBeqhCAsmE6FBsPtWbowK5d9LXINsMokkdSScHOPGaYdT4t4ZR4hCfM5Mu_iaNviVzLMl4fwUFEJ8x8zqW-Tw7QT7U9b7M8Wm_rFrkWt0iLOdMWERb6JBvNqxHfjVl-zLf7OkaoOYNxwy6-IDJ7HvprUwqMelxZMowIcB1qhq6p9jGfRl7/s600/1-13-23-another-year-5.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="401" data-original-width="600" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsLjEnFIYBeqhCAsmE6FBsPtWbowK5d9LXINsMokkdSScHOPGaYdT4t4ZR4hCfM5Mu_iaNviVzLMl4fwUFEJ8x8zqW-Tw7QT7U9b7M8Wm_rFrkWt0iLOdMWERb6JBvNqxHfjVl-zLf7OkaoOYNxwy6-IDJ7HvprUwqMelxZMowIcB1qhq6p9jGfRl7/w320-h214/1-13-23-another-year-5.jpeg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m here because of my wife,” Kevin begins. He’s a good-looking man who I judge to be in his early 50s, wavy brown hair beginning to be streaked with just a hint of gray. “She gave me a really nice Christmas present – a trip to St. Barts, just the two of us. Our kids decided they wanted to spend the holidays with their boyfriends’ families, so we were on our own, two lovebirds.” Pause. “But turns out she had an agenda.” He sighs. “It was all a plot to get me into therapy. Said it was a new year, time to press the reset key. She says I’m uptight and angry all the time. And of course as soon as she said that I got angry which only proved her point.”</span></span><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-c9e08244-7fff-20d5-de79-3e6f00e0fac6"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />“So do you see yourself as angry and uptight?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I can get angry, but I always think I have a good reason.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Like when your wife said you were uptight and angry all the time?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah,” he says, with an edge to his voice. “Like you’re telling me that’s not a good reason to get angry! She blind-sided me. Here I think we’re going on this romantic trip and actually she just wants to get me into therapy. It’s not right!”
</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTBb7mKHQqKegzp4jlW357KyMDFeap2724-BXHzvK-dfZT0L5S0Yq50B9QARveBVqvZuBMVRF3MX3iYeucNq09ZXgH39z3aBH3gYzwmPFbiDtQGZa0VQMy79_VYPNgrNXRRyeXzV-ezQBSsTM8_chOC7vnrktpaF26rqwz2ZduG_O25vTSRKJucaR/s899/1-13-23-another-year-3.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="899" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzTBb7mKHQqKegzp4jlW357KyMDFeap2724-BXHzvK-dfZT0L5S0Yq50B9QARveBVqvZuBMVRF3MX3iYeucNq09ZXgH39z3aBH3gYzwmPFbiDtQGZa0VQMy79_VYPNgrNXRRyeXzV-ezQBSsTM8_chOC7vnrktpaF26rqwz2ZduG_O25vTSRKJucaR/s320/1-13-23-another-year-3.webp" width="214" /></a></span></span></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I feel as though Kevin is daring me to prove his anger isn’t legitimate and I struggle to not engage with him on that level. “So what do you feel right now, right at this moment?”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s a typical therapist question, at least from what I see on TV, not from personal knowledge.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Silence.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Oh yeah, that’s another therapist trick, silence.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I again struggle to not pick up the gauntlet he’s thrown down. “I’m wondering why you decided to come into therapy, to do as your wife asked.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I just told her I’d try it out.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So is this a trial session?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I suppose.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Do you feel invested in not having it work? Because it feels like we’re almost in a fencing match. Or maybe there’s a part of you that really wants to be here.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">He sighs. “Actually my sister saw you. She said you were really good, that you helped her a lot.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Wait, I saw your sister?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, Alison Bentley. Different last name. Quite a long time ago. You helped her deal with the sudden death of her husband.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“If I’d known you were related to someone I’d seen, I would have referred you to someone else.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Why? Allison’s fine with it. She doesn’t even live here anymore, moved to Texas with her new husband. She’s good.”<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m glad to hear Allison is good. But it strikes me as really interesting that first you come in today and are unsure whether you want to be here and then you tell me I saw your sister and now I’m unsure of whether we can work together.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But why? You have a head start on me. You know the backstory, my insane family of origin, which should make our work quicker.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m just taking a stab here, but is it your experience that if someone moves closer to you, you pull away and if they move away, you move closer? Sort of like the fencing match I mentioned.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1y7VwbF6tRlpOU__z_L4VgOrsWJVtRTSk6kXfdiwnUfkF2TmNqOLGrH8nI05my8Fp_ZRfNyyEoLPifPuT054Kw7HuM455ybmrEROA7w-IYcBbtetEsv23Bv7nqbmsm9ibfhxe8_J15K1siVC_kU9W1RfG3ofCKmzS1BNDxdDFPWmM3dh8k4wSXCP/s600/1-13-23-another-year-4.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="600" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEil1y7VwbF6tRlpOU__z_L4VgOrsWJVtRTSk6kXfdiwnUfkF2TmNqOLGrH8nI05my8Fp_ZRfNyyEoLPifPuT054Kw7HuM455ybmrEROA7w-IYcBbtetEsv23Bv7nqbmsm9ibfhxe8_J15K1siVC_kU9W1RfG3ofCKmzS1BNDxdDFPWmM3dh8k4wSXCP/s320/1-13-23-another-year-4.webp" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Definitely! You are good! How’d you come up with that?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Well, first you’re angry at being here and only doing it for your wife, but when I express reservations, you suddenly want to be here. Seems like you want to create distance, unless the other person – in this instance, me – pulls back.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I get it.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But I don’t know where that leaves us. I’m truly not sure I’d be the best therapist for you even though, yes, I know some about your family of origin. But I know about it from your sister’s perspective, not from yours. That’s not always helpful. Your subjective experience has to be different than her subjective experience.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That sounds like psychobabble.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Are you getting angry right now?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“A little.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So this time I’m backing away and you’re still getting angry. Is it that you’re not getting what at least a part of you wants, namely me?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah. I hate not to get what I want. Makes me mad and frustrated and all around pissed. Just like my father. And it especially makes me mad if the reason I’m being rejected … I mean the reason I’m not getting what I want makes no sense.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t know about you, Kevin, but I found this to be a complicated session. I’m not sure what I think would be best for you and I’m not really sure what you want. Our time is almost up, but what if we agree to make another appointment and each think about it during the week and discuss it next session?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I guess.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You still sound pissed off.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I just don’t get what the big deal would be your seeing me after you saw my sister.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Well maybe during the week you can think about what you’d like to get out of therapy and we can talk some more about it.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Okay,” he says, half-heartedly. </span></span></p><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-71843298482095849082022-12-09T09:13:00.001-05:002022-12-09T09:13:35.258-05:00Family Visits<p> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPF0mcSpFy5Isj44T8-hDrYg3BKDttjZa1uIQAyyfliul1CNNB5g9-rTUR8dUXqcDqoHnh_dZpnHeug0g5wvB3ZOyQ107lMSsxWoT9DZikcO0so-s0T3k13366G_VMv7-jnOBr-hZTo-JViOrEzHvVdOqXw2mcRM7f_w-IQpJMoRE0_LoobckCWOco/s2250/12-9-22family%20visits%204.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2250" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPF0mcSpFy5Isj44T8-hDrYg3BKDttjZa1uIQAyyfliul1CNNB5g9-rTUR8dUXqcDqoHnh_dZpnHeug0g5wvB3ZOyQ107lMSsxWoT9DZikcO0so-s0T3k13366G_VMv7-jnOBr-hZTo-JViOrEzHvVdOqXw2mcRM7f_w-IQpJMoRE0_LoobckCWOco/w320-h213/12-9-22family%20visits%204.webp" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I can’t believe my wife and I actually arranged to see both set of parents in the space of a month,” Harvey begins, a good-looking man in his forties. “Thanksgiving with her family was bad enough, people trying to be polite and pretend that they care about each other and that they care about our kids. I was surprised they even remembered the kids’ names. That’s how often they talk to them. I guess they do occasionally connect on Facebook, but of course my kids aren’t on Facebook that often – for old people they say. My 13 year old kept rolling her eyes when they tried to engage her around soccer.” He sighs. “And in a few weeks we go to my family. That will be different.”<br /></span></span><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-f9e9ab9f-7fff-7b57-9a4d-1556af6b35dc"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Different how?” I ask.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Different in every way possible. I’ve told you about my family, screamers. No one is polite. No one cares about anything but hearing themselves talk. Except my mother. She’s different. Of course my brother will be there. If he and I don’t get into it I’d be shocked.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What do you imagine that looking like?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I wouldn’t rule out his throwing a swing at me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Like when you were kids?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yup.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You told me he was always jealous of you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />“Definitely. Even though he was my father’s favorite. But that didn’t count for much since my father was such a loser. IS such a loser. In fact, it’s worse – if that’s possible – since he “retired.” Now he doesn’t even pretend he’s looking for work. Sits at home all day, drinking no doubt, getting into fights with my mother and watching Fox News all day.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You sound very contemptuous of your father.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You got that right.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“How does it feel to be contemptuous of your father?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4qu2JQey-YY15NuBLYnr9u26Q7m_1nk-qrOLqjlxiD9uzM9AwLtHh8RnYkoFmcO6va12meDm9xV4EAkTloZMjLniAd65zok9WvuMq8H-u_jud2OKmn4Pm62GLGXeVLflFicaV5OyaLnkb7Xd1ywCm7ahf_leKBKiqs_PkRueYEFnhQrlIQiEmjp7/s2247/12-9-22-family%20visits%203.webp" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2247" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgO4qu2JQey-YY15NuBLYnr9u26Q7m_1nk-qrOLqjlxiD9uzM9AwLtHh8RnYkoFmcO6va12meDm9xV4EAkTloZMjLniAd65zok9WvuMq8H-u_jud2OKmn4Pm62GLGXeVLflFicaV5OyaLnkb7Xd1ywCm7ahf_leKBKiqs_PkRueYEFnhQrlIQiEmjp7/w320-h214/12-9-22-family%20visits%203.webp" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Familiar. I don’t think I was ever NOT contemptuous of him. Of course, I wouldn’t have said contemptuous as a kid.”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What would you have said?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That he was … Wow! I was about to say that he was a scary jackass. I sort of forgot how scary he was. He was. He was big and blustery and would scream at the drop of a hat. And he was often screaming at me which would delight my brother to no end.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Where was your mother in all this?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Silent. I knew she felt bad for me, but she was totally cowed by him. She’d say she didn’t want to take ‘sides.’”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Did you feel angry with her about that?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No. I guess I needed one good parent and she was definitely the good parent.” He smiles. “I still love her a lot. She wasn’t perfect but she’s a good person and she’s a great grandma. My kids love her to death even though we don’t visit very often for obvious reasons.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Do you ever invite her to visit you?” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“All the time. But she won’t come without him and I’m not inviting that chaos into my home.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I wonder if you’re still afraid of your father.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Now? No, what could he do to me? I could knock him out in a heartbeat.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And how would you feel about that, about knocking him out?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Harvey opens his mouth to respond and then closes it. “I was about to say great, but that’s not really true. I guess a part of me would feel great about it, but then he is my father. I guess I’d feel guilty. Yeah, you’re not supposed to be slugging your father.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I just had a thought. I wonder if you feel sad and disappointed that you don’t have a Dad you can look up to, one you’d enjoy visiting.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I never thought of that, but yes. Even as a kid I was disappointed that my Dad wasn’t more of… I guess that he wasn’t more. That he wasn’t more educated, smarter, more of a role model.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />“So maybe what else bothers you about visiting your parents is that every time you can’t escape feeling that disappointment. And maybe you’re disappointed in more than your Dad. Maybe you’re disappointed that your brother isn’t more of a friend and that your Mom wasn’t more actively on your side.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj5Rwnq9l6WK2SCTr70DMoPHe9oU8DwcNYIlae0h18Myw-loqoy1ofqUNLc56Ep566f5x9AeG8YAQwxzBGia3MKbqJcN2sZymEyp366Pzk3j2SIi5o_bE6EaSNOcZnKwlbtwjS5lUPet8B7qT_5S78X8jzkRJbNo5aEHoE6lYKUwgjVfiprmaD6XfW/s2250/12-9-22-family%20visits%202.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1500" data-original-width="2250" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjj5Rwnq9l6WK2SCTr70DMoPHe9oU8DwcNYIlae0h18Myw-loqoy1ofqUNLc56Ep566f5x9AeG8YAQwxzBGia3MKbqJcN2sZymEyp366Pzk3j2SIi5o_bE6EaSNOcZnKwlbtwjS5lUPet8B7qT_5S78X8jzkRJbNo5aEHoE6lYKUwgjVfiprmaD6XfW/s320/12-9-22-family%20visits%202.jpeg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t know about that part about my Mom, but I certainly agree with you about my father and brother. I wonder if knowing that will make the visit any easier.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Well, if you could accept that your father and brother are going to be the same as they’ve always been, maybe you can avoid having even the smallest of expectations and therefore be less hurt and less angry.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Maybe. I guess we’ll see if a few weeks.”</span></span></p><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-68851436540066785632022-11-09T11:15:00.001-05:002022-11-09T11:16:00.948-05:00A White Lie<p> <span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It was my birthday this past Saturday,” MaryAnn begins smiling, combing her fingers through her long, silky hair.</span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-79ebde6b-7fff-3c6b-8d22-d2d750290031"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBh-x1bRWmx1Udkit1HVKB3xo3mDvVv1cnlURVjEdm5XjyRyAyCsWgYhVUrYiIen6WRI4VYFLFDmcpVFM6lM6onkcFjzhLtm8KrX7d1GBj_dqFPxPgcjnHRYTv51RTUQkqMFhQ9GsMggiI66Lxo8_pgG9koE0ebTn0POTZtdYtwO6s_XNagdWRWzs3/s900/11-9-2022-a-white-lie-4.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBh-x1bRWmx1Udkit1HVKB3xo3mDvVv1cnlURVjEdm5XjyRyAyCsWgYhVUrYiIen6WRI4VYFLFDmcpVFM6lM6onkcFjzhLtm8KrX7d1GBj_dqFPxPgcjnHRYTv51RTUQkqMFhQ9GsMggiI66Lxo8_pgG9koE0ebTn0POTZtdYtwO6s_XNagdWRWzs3/s320/11-9-2022-a-white-lie-4.jpeg" width="213" /></a></div><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Congratulations,” I respond enthusiastically, “Twenty, right?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">MaryAnn pauses, drops her head, then raises it again to look <br />directly at me. “Not exactly. I turned 18.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I stare at her, startled. “But we’ve been working together for two years. You told me you were 18 when we started.” <br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, I did. I lied. But that’s the only thing I’ve lied about.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But you were a minor when we began working together,” I say, quite distressed. “I would have needed your parents’ permission to see you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Exactly! That’s why I told you I was 18. Could you imagine my parents allowing me to see you and air all their dirty secrets. It’s no big deal, just a little white lie.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIfDClgZ7WByxfrU8924bOWkk91anYSP5fkc_MCXgCl8ksjaMjo5q_qPHOyp7untYORUid6s7m99iddUDIVL0PKc9f-FHT_Y2QoBmFaslWys8gdoLy_ohOG_UKjDKuhYiwxos9eE-k1RLcy0-ZVQ8r3Qo2rB8kuEFetYYWSi6nDsBqr2vpcPRSHHPg/s900/11-9-2022-a-white-lie-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="900" data-original-width="600" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIfDClgZ7WByxfrU8924bOWkk91anYSP5fkc_MCXgCl8ksjaMjo5q_qPHOyp7untYORUid6s7m99iddUDIVL0PKc9f-FHT_Y2QoBmFaslWys8gdoLy_ohOG_UKjDKuhYiwxos9eE-k1RLcy0-ZVQ8r3Qo2rB8kuEFetYYWSi6nDsBqr2vpcPRSHHPg/s320/11-9-2022-a-white-lie-2.jpg" width="213" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">I’m stunned. MaryAnn and I had what I thought was a close, intense bond, with a heated transference/countertransference relationship. I quickly became the mother she wished she had, not the socialite who left her daughter to be raised by a series of nannies while she spent her husband’s money throwing elaborate parties or meeting a series of lovers somewhere in the world. For my part, I usually felt motherly and protective towards her, unless her excessive demands made me pull back in either anger or self-defense. Her “little white lie” feels like a betrayal and I struggle to make sense of it.</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />“Come on!” MaryAnn says. “You look like I’ve committed some terrible sin! Why is it such a big deal?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Well, first you made me complicit in breaking the law – seeing you without parental consent.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But you didn’t know!!” she interrupts.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Second, this is a tremendous breach of trust, of what I assumed was a good faith relationship between us.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It is.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Is it?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about it. I lied so I could see you. What’s wrong with that?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“How did you pay me every month?” I ask.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You know money isn’t an issue. There are huge amounts of cash lying around, or signed checks. Neither of my parents cares how much money I spend. They never check up on me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So you were stealing money to pay me?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I wasn’t stealing. I told you. I can spend money on whatever I want. They never ask.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Through what feels like my foggy mind, some thoughts vaguely occur to me. “You know, MaryAnn, one of your complaints about your parents is that they’ve always had relationships with other people, while continuing on with what feels to you like their sham marriage.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s not the same thing!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You’ve grown up in a household where lying and deceit was second nature. It’s not so hard to imagine you’d also lie to get what you want.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I told you, I had no choice!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />“Perhaps your parents would say the same thing. And, besides, if your parents are so indifferent to what you do or don’t do, how do you know they wouldn’t be fine about your being in therapy.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I told you, because they don’t want all their secrets out there! Maybe I shouldn’t have told you. Maybe I should have just said yes, I’m 20.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So that brings me to another issue, MaryAnn, maybe the most important issue in terms of our relationship.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">She sighs, exasperatedly. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">I continue. “A lie keeps distance. Your lie kept distance between us, just as your parents’ lies keeps distance between them and between the three of you. Maybe, unconsciously, it was important that you keep a distance between us, maybe you couldn’t risk being closer to me than to your parents.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But that doesn’t make sense. I’ve always wanted more from you, wanted you to take care of me, had fantasies of your being at my wedding one day, meeting my children, all that.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s what you’ve wanted consciously, but I wonder if unconsciously it would have felt very risky to be closer to me than to your parents, maybe it would have felt like I was replacing them, doing away with them. However not ideal they’ve been as parents, they’re the only parents you’ve ever had or will have.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE1P5FAYijzp1Ag2hX4WRY_XdwP_UqWYvqmMdPXbQOvAizUtZ17rndvFWRwXfGvs3m9utSJN4cBWpm86S34qg6GHgFDzmYg5TtahKnY5Qiim7I7OlNlM4mDmWL8EA5Tj_QPwDnmAfoJFx9ArWjvFtO-XRRhZDtjZ71CtkHg7wSn0knA8GBmnU7w0zV/s612/11-9-2022-a-white-lie-3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="408" data-original-width="612" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE1P5FAYijzp1Ag2hX4WRY_XdwP_UqWYvqmMdPXbQOvAizUtZ17rndvFWRwXfGvs3m9utSJN4cBWpm86S34qg6GHgFDzmYg5TtahKnY5Qiim7I7OlNlM4mDmWL8EA5Tj_QPwDnmAfoJFx9ArWjvFtO-XRRhZDtjZ71CtkHg7wSn0knA8GBmnU7w0zV/s320/11-9-2022-a-white-lie-3.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t know, maybe. But what now? What happens between us?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What would you like to happen?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’d like you to forgive me and for us to go on as before.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Now that I have what feels to me like a psychological understanding of what prompted your lying, I’m no longer so shocked or angry. As far as us going on as before, if that means do I still care about you and want us to continue working together, the answer is certainly yes. But relationships always change, MaryAnn, and this relationship will definitely be impacted by what occurred between us today. For sure I’ll be looking to see if there are other ways you create distance in our relationship.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I am sorry. But I’m still not sure I would have done anything differently.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I hear you.”</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-68494474834491691272022-10-19T10:44:00.000-04:002022-10-19T10:44:05.961-04:00Beyond Afraid II<p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Frank rushes into my office, words tumbling out of his mouth as he walks. “The doctors keep telling my Mom she’s going to be all right. But she’s still scared. I am too. How do we know fibroids can’t turn into cancer? But now I’m scared about something else, I’m scared you’re going to take my Mom away from me, like you said in our last session.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc_07lUFztk0-X62SC3zIoCzsRtaGxoUuuIJnwl-5OSJIe_Eg3JdP4blfUxK4--YK8Ub5D5sP9z_kD86eeE66-oeUAlrdD38eSEpDzFjO6bLgsxjuFwxmEKom_6cw6NZvNvYdaVsYeOnQ_ZXxBdHbGEZblQ08-GbQ7D9htZWs_Oj27J3stdNsIBYNQ/s256/Oct-19-Im%20Afraid%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><img border="0" data-original-height="256" data-original-width="256" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc_07lUFztk0-X62SC3zIoCzsRtaGxoUuuIJnwl-5OSJIe_Eg3JdP4blfUxK4--YK8Ub5D5sP9z_kD86eeE66-oeUAlrdD38eSEpDzFjO6bLgsxjuFwxmEKom_6cw6NZvNvYdaVsYeOnQ_ZXxBdHbGEZblQ08-GbQ7D9htZWs_Oj27J3stdNsIBYNQ/w200-h200/Oct-19-Im%20Afraid%201.jpg" width="200" /></span></a></div><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-0a22333d-7fff-65ab-cb3f-b72c1d3c0f59"><span style="font-size: medium;"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Stop a moment, Frank. Take a breath. I remember saying I have neither the power nor the wish to take your Mom away from you,” I say, feeling as though I’m talking to a young child rather than a 36 year old man.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But you said we’re too close!”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And what do you think? It’s way more important what you think than what I think.” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s impossible. You’re the professional.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And you’re a person who gets to think for himself.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Frank looks at me confusedly. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I continue. “I think you said last week that your Mom didn’t want you to think differently from her. Is that correct?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He nods.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And how do you feel about that?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, I do usually think the same as my Mom.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Can you tell me some of the things you agree on?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“We both like funny movies, not sad ones. We like Italian food but not Indian food.” Pause. “We believe in being good to people.” Pause. “We wish my sister would come home from India.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Can you think of anything you don’t agree on?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Silence. </span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_6QCs-hL5Pl2BX6bCkkCdAOe5-Q-_wmgUoHwMaHJzQcPxxwnO4qFMP_D9IjvI1DYOqo8ManG9KQY1LPGfzqzOajGYqI0dQyO0Ju4oKDhyyMa6NlUvzqC4ueWUpt_W8ODYWRc4AOSegLuuJNCwY8ceA036xwDseL8Rv5RnRDfc42SBM3eKHtfZtol/s300/Oct-19-the%20underachiever%201.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="295" data-original-width="300" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE_6QCs-hL5Pl2BX6bCkkCdAOe5-Q-_wmgUoHwMaHJzQcPxxwnO4qFMP_D9IjvI1DYOqo8ManG9KQY1LPGfzqzOajGYqI0dQyO0Ju4oKDhyyMa6NlUvzqC4ueWUpt_W8ODYWRc4AOSegLuuJNCwY8ceA036xwDseL8Rv5RnRDfc42SBM3eKHtfZtol/w200-h197/Oct-19-the%20underachiever%201.jpg" width="200" /></a></div></span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Frank fidgets in his chair. “Aren’t you going to say something? I don’t like just sitting here. Makes me even more nervous.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Can you say what you feel nervous about?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“The silence.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“What about the silence.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I don’t know what you’re thinking.” Pause. “I’m afraid I’m not being a good patient. I’m afraid you won’t like me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“You know, Frank, right now I find myself feeling really sad for you, sad that you’re so afraid of not being liked or accepted, that you’ll turn yourself into a pretzel trying to please.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“And that makes you sad for me?” he asks incredulously.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“It does. Why does that surprise you?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I don’t know. I don’t think anyone ever said they were sad for me. Except maybe when my father died.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> “Do you ever feel sad for you?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“No. Except when my father died. But even then I felt more sorry for my mother.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“When you do feel sad, for yourself or whomever, do you feel less anxious?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Gosh, I’d have to think about that. Should I feel less anxious?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I can’t tell you how you should feel. Your feelings are all yours and you get to feel however you feel.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“That’s not what my Mom says. She says there are right and wrong ways to feel and that I should always feel the right way.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“So would that mean if you didn’t feel the so-called right way you were being bad?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Definitely.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I imagine that always trying to feel the supposedly right way could make you really anxious since you’d be constantly worried about trying to control feelings you can’t control. There are no right or wrong feelings. We feel whatever we feel. So it’s like you’re trying to do the impossible, trying to make sure you don’t feel anything you think you’re not supposed to.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“You don’t believe there are good or bad feelings?!” he asks, shocked.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“No, I don’t.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“What if I … if I … if I felt I wanted to scream at you right now?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“You can scream at me whenever you like. But that’s not a feeling. Maybe you’re saying what if you felt really, really angry with me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I can’t be angry.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“So that’s one of those bad feelings according to your mother.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Yes. Definitely.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Well, I disagree. I think you can feel as angry as you feel, as long as you don’t put those feelings into an action that hurts me, like slapping me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I would never, never do anything like that!!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I’m sure you wouldn’t. And because you wouldn’t you’ve just said why feelings aren’t bad. They’re your internal feelings, inside you. No one ever has to know they exist unless you choose to tell them.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I feel really nervous right now.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrq9eDZ2oSRjY23cHdAIYDkiT_3S3hP0VEf7To1FTnGvfQmR9_Vbn5el4B3-7KjmFiyHjZ5rsfN4J-34Aj4oxWzhMZvdiIRfrIyeuxijm_pYYvcWhas7AT746g3WaIKEBtcvcDJ6E-XRO4O_wa-wqJyv5up8Zgvh-UnS3pGQD8cvskiybTRLKaxWT/s275/oct-19-Wanting%20to%20Flee%203.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="275" data-original-width="183" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMrq9eDZ2oSRjY23cHdAIYDkiT_3S3hP0VEf7To1FTnGvfQmR9_Vbn5el4B3-7KjmFiyHjZ5rsfN4J-34Aj4oxWzhMZvdiIRfrIyeuxijm_pYYvcWhas7AT746g3WaIKEBtcvcDJ6E-XRO4O_wa-wqJyv5up8Zgvh-UnS3pGQD8cvskiybTRLKaxWT/w133-h200/oct-19-Wanting%20to%20Flee%203.jpg" width="133" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“I believe you and I apologize for making you so anxious. I’ve said a lot of things today that are very different from what you’re used to hearing and thinking, and that can certainly threaten your sense of both yourself and the world. That can be pretty scary.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Thank you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“For?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“For understanding. For not getting mad at me for being anxious.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;">“Here, Frank, you get to feel whatever you feel – sad, angry, anxious. I hope we can help you to feel less anxious and I believe that will happen as you become more comfortable with all your other feelings. But change doesn’t happen overnight, so neither of us should expect more from you than you’re comfortable with.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> “Thanks again. I do feel a little better.”</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-31567681494047687352022-09-20T09:42:00.002-04:002022-10-19T10:26:30.288-04:00Beyond Afraid<p><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"> <span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">I open my waiting room door to a mid-thirtyish man pacing back and forth in front of the couch. “Frank?” I ask.</span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-d4881eca-7fff-5988-dc29-e468c48aeb4f"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">He startles and turns to face me. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Did I frighten you? I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just can’t sit still. I’m so jittery. I just…”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOO-BSTYVZKAUEJA7e3iR3bZin0gZVF702FPzTPYZRBNC6UfWp9SArfpmihNP2L7SaKKbBnL66pvqzOg9KfN63htltUzCcN09fVo2dlq3_DK6oVh8_6Ma2NP221nho6az4lap_jb-32YohkqTDiDvqxz5TuX1doXdBwqVWm_PTAW3Hl3y80KgdMt8i/s255/9-20-beyond%20fear%201.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="197" data-original-width="255" height="197" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOO-BSTYVZKAUEJA7e3iR3bZin0gZVF702FPzTPYZRBNC6UfWp9SArfpmihNP2L7SaKKbBnL66pvqzOg9KfN63htltUzCcN09fVo2dlq3_DK6oVh8_6Ma2NP221nho6az4lap_jb-32YohkqTDiDvqxz5TuX1doXdBwqVWm_PTAW3Hl3y80KgdMt8i/s1600/9-20-beyond%20fear%201.jpg" width="255" /></a></span></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">I note that he’s afraid of having frightened me when he’s clearly the one who’s terrified. “It’s all right,” I interrupt. “Why don’t we go into my office and sit down.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">He sits, but perches at the edge of the chair, as though posed for flight.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“What has you so frightened?” I ask.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“My, my, mother,” he stammers. “I’m afraid she’s going to die. My father died a year ago. He was fine, came home from work, went upstairs and died. Doctors said something about his heart. I couldn’t understand it. My Mom started screaming and screaming. I guess I did too. It still all a blur. But now I’m worried about my Mom. They say she has something in her uterus. I’m afraid she’s going to die. I couldn’t make it if she died. I couldn’t make it,” he says starting to cry. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-family: arial; font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“What does she have in her uterus? Are her doctors concerned? Is she concerned?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“She’s a wreck. Her doctors say it’s nothing, just something to watch. I don’t know, fibrosus?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Fibroids?” I ask.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“That’s it! Can that kill you?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I’m not a medical doctor, but my understanding is that fibroids aren’t usually a problem.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EqAr6y2g2796Xr-ajh-r8Fb-bHilovaSGhTCpsYvajKXEJMV9QWn15N1HXn9FEUoOjBTbC9ylxqMph1nDliZSKKmLHZ8ZRaE6U-GSptagjmmrJ9rPaTV-SVCMfos0LoOuMNUwlOHQdNA9VnTJ2CCFXJbMLDbpc88xBomeSRXiEIrj3tOI87ETZTB/s297/9-20-beyond%20fear%202.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="170" data-original-width="297" height="170" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8EqAr6y2g2796Xr-ajh-r8Fb-bHilovaSGhTCpsYvajKXEJMV9QWn15N1HXn9FEUoOjBTbC9ylxqMph1nDliZSKKmLHZ8ZRaE6U-GSptagjmmrJ9rPaTV-SVCMfos0LoOuMNUwlOHQdNA9VnTJ2CCFXJbMLDbpc88xBomeSRXiEIrj3tOI87ETZTB/s1600/9-20-beyond%20fear%202.jpg" width="297" /></span></a></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Are you sure?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Frank, do you think anyone can sufficiently reassure you?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">Still crying, he says, “I’ve always been this way. Everything scares me. Mom’s like that too. Dad was also kind of anxious. Only my sister isn’t. She’s the opposite. She’s in something like the Peace Corps. In India. My parents flipped out when she joined. But she was determined. And now she married an Indian guy so I guess she’s never coming home. I worry about her dying too, but it’s not as bad as with my Mom.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Can you tell me a little about your growing up, Frank. What was it like being a kid in your family?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“It was great. I didn’t worry about anyone dying then.” Pause. “But I was always afraid. Hard not to be. My Mom worried about everything, about us being kidnapped, about us driving. I didn’t drive ‘til I was 20 or something. She’d take us to the doctor for the least little sniffle. Make us stay home from school.” Pause. “That was okay with me. I didn’t like school. I mean it wasn’t school I minded. I just didn’t like being away from home. I always felt scared being away from home. The other kids made fun of me, called me a Momma’s boy. I guess I was. Guess I still am.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Have you ever lived away from home?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I tried. Went away to college, but didn’t last a semester. I came home, got a degree in accounting. Dad was an accountant. But I’m an assistant accountant. I didn’t want all that responsibility. I didn’t want the work to kill me like it killed Dad. I work mostly from home, especially since Covid, and especially since my Dad died. I want to be around for my Mom. She’s my responsibility now that he’s gone.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Have you been in therapy before?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I may have gone awhile when I was a little kid. But not really, no, not since I’m grown.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“How do you feel about being in therapy? And how do you feel being with me?” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I guess I need it. I’d like to not be so scared all the time.” Pause. “And I like you. You’re nice. Sort of like my Mom, except not as nervous.” Pause. “Can you help me be less scared?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I certainly hope so. But I do want to say, Frank, that you may not always think I’m so nice. There are times therapy can be hard and painful. Like one of the things I suspect you and I are going to look at is your relationship with your mother.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVeZyVpjE3T_Ogny_IaC7DmjwWw4bNRM6ViyJJ2krQzndzhCXpxfOEWCg_lq2mqSWjskIDcaSRCflHOCW9ZaQ3Yp6CpQFBMC2kvxeGGStmBQQqF5VlA9Lvov-Toi-RWmrYYMLKbqoBaOnvB_J8zI50iPe5NIrLxyUTB1KgjTnKVHoZ4v1CWEbMuSwt/s360/9-20-diminished%204.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="240" data-original-width="360" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVeZyVpjE3T_Ogny_IaC7DmjwWw4bNRM6ViyJJ2krQzndzhCXpxfOEWCg_lq2mqSWjskIDcaSRCflHOCW9ZaQ3Yp6CpQFBMC2kvxeGGStmBQQqF5VlA9Lvov-Toi-RWmrYYMLKbqoBaOnvB_J8zI50iPe5NIrLxyUTB1KgjTnKVHoZ4v1CWEbMuSwt/s320/9-20-diminished%204.jpg" width="320" /></span></a></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Why? I have a great relationship with my mother.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Except it’s hard for you to have a life apart from her.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Are you going to take Mom away from me?” Frank asks, panic seeping into his voice.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“No, Frank. I don’t have the power to do that nor would I want to. But having part of your life be separate from your mother seems like something an adult child might want.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“I guess.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“You can always disagree with me, Frank. My saying something doesn’t make it so.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“That’s not like my mother! She always wants me to think the same way as her.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial; font-size: large;">“Well, maybe that’s one thing we’ll get to look at together, how you feel about always needing to think like your Mom.”</span></span></p><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-52340258566365582602022-08-19T16:08:00.001-04:002022-08-19T16:41:40.964-04:00Fearing the Past<p><span style="font-size: large;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="white-space: pre-wrap;">Katie barely smiles as I greet her in the waiting room. She walks slowly to my office and gingerly lowers herself into the chair. Oh no, I think to myself, did something happen with her pregnancy? Just last week she was radiant, bubbling with joy, thrilled that she’d be giving birth to a little girl.</span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-3c6393ec-7fff-651f-8001-b9afac81d79b"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What’s wrong, Katie?” I ask.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Silent tears stream down her face.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Did something happen to the baby?”<br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYUF8j4zjl1BXMVm0slZQPEjxo2PnTSBYWU0G8s5NkHnkvyUU5G8KGKx3RVkZNwHRuUIMBfPc3GgvKDsI2nfnd2h8dIDxgIPN62jRXV5ppL-b7QkvxHN41jeVzWtIFhiAtdc0WaRf9zOkTyLGzPjiTrBZQ5EwESIkYa3-_7D5UftPOLtJp9Ft5kfZR/s275/8-18-2022-fearing%20the%20past%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="275" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYUF8j4zjl1BXMVm0slZQPEjxo2PnTSBYWU0G8s5NkHnkvyUU5G8KGKx3RVkZNwHRuUIMBfPc3GgvKDsI2nfnd2h8dIDxgIPN62jRXV5ppL-b7QkvxHN41jeVzWtIFhiAtdc0WaRf9zOkTyLGzPjiTrBZQ5EwESIkYa3-_7D5UftPOLtJp9Ft5kfZR/w320-h213/8-18-2022-fearing%20the%20past%201.jpg" width="320" /></a>
</span></div><span style="font-size: large;">She shakes her head, cradling her stomach. “On Monday,” she says hesitantly, “Patrick woke up and right away he seemed different. He didn’t kiss my stomach and listen for the baby as he usually does. He just got up and started getting ready for work. I asked what was wrong, but he said he was just tired. I tried to connect with him, but he just ate breakfast and left. He texted me a couple of times during the day so I thought maybe everything was fine. But when he came home he was still distant, preoccupied. I told him he had to talk to me, that we weren’t having dinner until I knew what was bothering him.</span></span><p></p><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0px 0px 0px 40px; padding: 0px;"><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"></p></span></blockquote><span><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And then he asked me, he asked me if I was ever afraid I’d hurt our baby. I couldn’t believe it. I felt as though he’d slapped me. I started crying. He said he’d had a dream that I was shaking our baby and screaming at her. He said I must have thought about it, that I couldn’t have not thought about it given my history. I couldn’t stop crying. I just couldn’t stop. Like I can’t stop now.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBqKLkZzl-BH_d_Twwe_-UnN7GP5G6_VrG4IQWOlCoJ67BTxUkx45cTdmwurKo7ZpQQMtbxF5EbmtrcQE-y7mVghool5lco3BwVD0_GY4bCv1-BE8Itl02y0LuaOEGeUtfnqO-UJDlx9B885G_8AYN-M7hLpipOfiXBZhGOge-oYeZCV87kt0Ivea/s271/8-18-2022-and%20then%20there%20were%20none%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="186" data-original-width="271" height="220" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlBqKLkZzl-BH_d_Twwe_-UnN7GP5G6_VrG4IQWOlCoJ67BTxUkx45cTdmwurKo7ZpQQMtbxF5EbmtrcQE-y7mVghool5lco3BwVD0_GY4bCv1-BE8Itl02y0LuaOEGeUtfnqO-UJDlx9B885G_8AYN-M7hLpipOfiXBZhGOge-oYeZCV87kt0Ivea/w320-h220/8-18-2022-and%20then%20there%20were%20none%202.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I understand you’re in a tremendous amount of pain,” I say softly, “And this might seem like a ridiculous question, but can you say what you are crying about? Is seems like there’s many things you could be crying about right now and maybe it would be helpful if we tried to understand them.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’m crying about Patrick even questioning that I could possibly, possibly ever hurt our child.” </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I understand that Katie. But you’ve questioned yourself too. We spent many sessions talking about your fears about your past, about whether you’d repeat your history.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And you told me not everyone who’s abused becomes an abuser!” Katie says, practically yelling at me.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s absolutely true.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And did my saying that take away all your fears?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Katie covers her face with her hands, sobbing and shaking her head. “Why couldn’t he have faith in me? Why does he have to doubt me?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So you feel abandoned by Patrick.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, yes!! He’s always been my biggest champion. He was always the one who said I could overcome anything, do anything.” Pause. “I would never, ever have agreed to have a child if I thought he didn’t believe in me!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I wonder if you’re saying that if Patrick doesn’t believe in you, you can’t believe in you either.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Katie stops crying and looks at me. “That’s right. That’s absolutely right! That’s why Patrick’s question devastated me. I can’t lose my biggest champion just as I’m about to undertake the scariest step of my life.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So you do know it’s scary, scary for you and scary for Patrick. It’s sound like it would help if both of you talked about your fears, not to make accusations, but to provide each other with support and understanding.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Silence.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Where did you go, Katie?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Ever since Monday I’ve been re-living the horrible things my mother did to me, how she’d slap me around, take a belt to me, drag me around the floor by my hair, make me eat dog food, spit at me. She hated me. I know she wanted me dead.” Katie’s voice gets flatter and flatter as she recounts the abuse.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Katie, you can feel about all these horrible things your mother did to you. You don’t have to shut down. You can hate her back.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t want to hate her back. I just don’t want her to affect my life in any way.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It would be good to be indifferent to your mother, but it’s impossible that she not affect your life. She’s your mother. And she was your mother when you were a helpless, vulnerable, dependent child. But your life doesn’t have to be determined by her.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So you don’t think I’ll abuse my child?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No, I don’t think you’ll abuse your child. You’re a great aunt to your brother’s kids. You love your animals.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9ncIRt7GVSj6F9eKWvTOHGImGdi_DuY8GdcnSdN35-0-KKRE4VK9SDglkVWEeeKyadYqxIcrCA9VRf8qGhtaUxml_rA37Ym10Fa-87255H5TgDbo3VZ3HJrh5xyFlYkHmtRFTVw3lj_pz24kDHF_0f1dagDpxBmgrf3QSijXp0IeoL3-pvwfwBvr/s225/8-18-2022-fear%20of%20the%20past%202.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz9ncIRt7GVSj6F9eKWvTOHGImGdi_DuY8GdcnSdN35-0-KKRE4VK9SDglkVWEeeKyadYqxIcrCA9VRf8qGhtaUxml_rA37Ym10Fa-87255H5TgDbo3VZ3HJrh5xyFlYkHmtRFTVw3lj_pz24kDHF_0f1dagDpxBmgrf3QSijXp0IeoL3-pvwfwBvr/s1600/8-18-2022-fear%20of%20the%20past%202.jpg" width="225" /></a></div><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“My brother’s kids are boys. Will that make a difference?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It sounds like that’s something you’re concerned about.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Katie nods. “It crossed my mind when I knew I’d be having a girl. But I also thought, good, I get to do a do-over with my little girl. I just know it will be different.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You mean you and Patrick will make it different.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, that’s exactly right. And Patrick and I are going to be doing some heavy talking. Thank you so much. Helpful, as always.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“My pleasure,” I say smiling.</span></span></p><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-27563687008901072592022-07-26T08:49:00.001-04:002022-07-26T08:50:01.415-04:00Unsure<p><span style="font-size: x-large; white-space: pre-wrap;">“</span><span style="font-size: large; white-space: pre-wrap;">I feel ridiculous going into therapy because I can’t decide whether or not to get married,” Nina, a slender young woman with shiny dark hair and large brown eyes, begins. “I mean I’ve been in therapy before, lots of times. It’s been a lifesaver sometimes, but going into therapy because I can’t decide whether or not to marry Sam seems silly. Either I want to marry Sam or I don’t. I don’t know what makes it so hard to decide.”</span></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTqmTsANfGK--HpckvHPllNsQik-ImKEeTq1ei_Q3k3r7fWgG-1QibgDWCaTPXffCIyngpQdRe4shNeLF8VUOw-PId90vSGYHsKB9vUPnjsjeWRpqnF8NUSo70X2m-tIWr8BLcYJqnDG8aCPnCGUDZcIb87IDdMHHSgkUfo_upkyxzL9eYo559onNG/s300/appeasement%201.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"><img border="0" data-original-height="205" data-original-width="300" height="205" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTqmTsANfGK--HpckvHPllNsQik-ImKEeTq1ei_Q3k3r7fWgG-1QibgDWCaTPXffCIyngpQdRe4shNeLF8VUOw-PId90vSGYHsKB9vUPnjsjeWRpqnF8NUSo70X2m-tIWr8BLcYJqnDG8aCPnCGUDZcIb87IDdMHHSgkUfo_upkyxzL9eYo559onNG/s1600/appeasement%201.jpg" width="300" /></span></a></div><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-acb5b1d8-7fff-75f2-cb0e-b8ff92ebbd69"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What does make it so hard to decide?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I guess because I don’t know if I love him. But is it even necessary that I love him? I’ve loved other guys and they all turned out like shit. I don’t know. I keep going round and around in my head.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Nina, I hear that you feel a lot of pressure to decide right now, but it would be helpful if you told me something about you, your background, why you’ve been in therapy before, maybe something about the shit guys.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiobsa-FhphfUhBb66DX554rljEJx_zDv1F6tl_-0aK--DVKFNMRvF4Zp6JYAbLDFIfP7fR62BpBV0NaRxcANTJidsBkADOVq2nUBWZOmPCHn52Zw7GHEySKR5Kgx_LF1z_MvY8GvZ5g16F1iLAfty-FJghMdB3rkPuiLaWkk9Z8gtztbQW5GVTjVrd/s276/left%203.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="276" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiobsa-FhphfUhBb66DX554rljEJx_zDv1F6tl_-0aK--DVKFNMRvF4Zp6JYAbLDFIfP7fR62BpBV0NaRxcANTJidsBkADOVq2nUBWZOmPCHn52Zw7GHEySKR5Kgx_LF1z_MvY8GvZ5g16F1iLAfty-FJghMdB3rkPuiLaWkk9Z8gtztbQW5GVTjVrd/s1600/left%203.jpg" width="276" /></a></span></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Nina sighs. “I knew I’d have to go through the whole thing again. It’s so tedious. Okay, here goes. When I was a kid, my life was pretty normal until I was six. Then my mother was hit by a car. She lived on a ventilator for a year or so until my Dad won the court battle with my Mom’s parents and had her disconnected. My Dad didn’t let me see my grandparents for quite a while, but then I got to see them and that was hard too because they talked such shit about my Dad. That’s when therapy was really helpful. Things got better after that until my Dad started dating and dating and dating. I guess he was trying to drown his sorrow in women, at least that’s what my therapist said. Fast forward, I now have my fourth step-mother except of course I don’t live at home any more so I don’t really care who he’s with. End of story.”<br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s an overwhelming story, Nina, yet you told it like you were reading from a book, like it happened to someone else.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I just can’t feel about it anymore. I don’t want to feel about it anymore. I want it over.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But maybe it isn’t over.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What do you mean?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, that’s a tremendous amount of loss and trauma for anyone to go through, let alone a young child. You lost your Mom, your grandparents and your Dad.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“My Dad’s not dead.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No, but it sounds as though once he started dating you felt as though you’d lost him.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yep! But that was just me being jealous. That was another therapist’s opinion.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And what’s your opinion?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I don’t know. It felt too soon. It felt like he forgot about my Mom. It made me wonder if my grandparents weren’t right about him. It made me sad. I missed him. I missed them all,” Nina says, her voice breaking a bit.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m sorry Nina.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Her eyes fill with tears which she blinks back. “But what does this have to do with my not being able to decide whether or not to marry Sam?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“First tell me whether the previous guys you loved were unfaithful to you or otherwise unavailable.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She snorts. “You mean like married? Yeah, I had my share of those. And my share of womanizers too. So you think I have an Oedipal thing, right? You think I want my father just for me.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Is that what you think?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Maybe. I just don’t know any more.” Pause. “For sure Sam isn’t anything like my father. He’s kind and generous and faithful. I know he loves me. I just don’t know if I love him.” Pause. “So you’d say I have to give up on my Dad in order to allow a different kind of man into my life.”</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidKaDB5GUcA0QE-tCsVB724B3hUH73VjT7WBehal-P-dnMdd88kxV6ve0Clp85HPfGcWJ2hESpZ5f1FOUYXDtliwxNzlG8Fl2zAJWaC9ksi28o0OM8WuwbqzQgfvSn-kmrlk5P7GeJYhG-g6m6u8r0AjX9ROkIs8KLQxqTdKU9nv6FiwB5eFW_8CUg/s276/compassion%203.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="183" data-original-width="276" height="183" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidKaDB5GUcA0QE-tCsVB724B3hUH73VjT7WBehal-P-dnMdd88kxV6ve0Clp85HPfGcWJ2hESpZ5f1FOUYXDtliwxNzlG8Fl2zAJWaC9ksi28o0OM8WuwbqzQgfvSn-kmrlk5P7GeJYhG-g6m6u8r0AjX9ROkIs8KLQxqTdKU9nv6FiwB5eFW_8CUg/s1600/compassion%203.jpg" width="276" /></a></span></div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I smile. “You’re certainly no stranger to therapy.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">She nods. “Too true.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But I wonder if, as you said, it’s only an ‘Oedipal thing.’ You’ve had so many early losses, Nina, losses that had to have a huge affect on your life. I wonder if you’ve walled yourself off from ever allowing yourself to be really close to anyone for fear that the pain of losing them would be too much. If you choose unavailable guys, they maintain the distance. If you choose a guy who is available, maybe that’s just too scary. What if you come to rely on him like you did your Mom or your Dad? What if he leaves or is in an accident? What if he dies? Maybe your six year old self doesn’t feel like she could cope with that.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But I’m not six.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The unconscious is timeless, Nina. We’re all whatever age we are today as well as six and ten and fifteen. That’s how we’re made.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But what do I do?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’d say we have to go back so that you can feel the tremendous pain and loss and fear you felt as a child and help that child mourn and grow so that you can allow yourself to love and to know that however painful it might be you could again survive loss.”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: large; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Sounds charming.” Pause. “When do we start?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></p><br /></span>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-70835217279529634902022-05-18T11:00:00.001-04:002022-05-18T11:00:00.211-04:00Being Bad Part II<p><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="font-family: Arial; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’ve been thinking about what we talked about last time,” Brenda says, beginning immediately. “About my being angry. I suppose I could be, but I don’t know what I’d have to be angry about. I have this great life, a family who’d do anything for me, a nice condo, great weather. What else do I need? Well, I guess I’d like to find a man, but I’m not angry about that. It will happen eventually.”</span></span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-64333d8b-7fff-12fb-1068-2e1965597ed9"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You mentioned last time that when you felt angry you stopped eating. What was that about?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixplxe6aYYT_1MWNKKAn4CzPRu72NifRBZtWOPogGSGCfjJ5HsW_NLzzFUI2Uj-PRTk8p5yG_5fe7u-zEplrbYEdZjfwNlgfSMyj6SIseCuHUvSMwHjCncNcCVXIHNIL-3zbeJuwKR8BLAgnFtCNkKKB1CkuRcMIfu8tF8IouPV6NltW-H6KIaWCnf/s380/back%20from%20the%20dead%204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="292" data-original-width="380" height="154" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixplxe6aYYT_1MWNKKAn4CzPRu72NifRBZtWOPogGSGCfjJ5HsW_NLzzFUI2Uj-PRTk8p5yG_5fe7u-zEplrbYEdZjfwNlgfSMyj6SIseCuHUvSMwHjCncNcCVXIHNIL-3zbeJuwKR8BLAgnFtCNkKKB1CkuRcMIfu8tF8IouPV6NltW-H6KIaWCnf/w200-h154/back%20from%20the%20dead%204.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />“Mostly I was just mad at myself. Mad that I let myself get too fat.”</span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You said that when that didn’t work, you’d eat and throw up, what did you mean by that?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“When my Mom got mad at me for not eating. Or more like when she kept asking if I didn’t like her food, or if I could tell her what she could make me that I’d like,” she says rolling her eyes. “It got annoying so I’d eat and throw up later.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You were annoyed at your mother?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah. She can get pretty annoying. She thinks my skirt is too short or my hair is too long or I wear too much make-up, whatever.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So you can feel angry with her.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yeah, I guess. My Dad’s not like that, pretty much everything I do is okay, but I don’t know, it’s almost like it doesn’t matter what I do, almost like he’s not interested. Yeah, I guess that’s right. I’m the afterthought. My brother’s the boy, my sister’s the smart one and I’m just me. I mean, he does like it that I do well selling houses. That he cares about.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So you feel criticized by your mother and ignored by your father except at his business.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That pretty much sums it up.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Don’t you think that’s something to be angry about?”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvM7Ujby2HoQzsU-lpi7hPz4jR4L_A6uFVelOEBWEc7O8yD14VgoOvNkZIZMN0UKygdV0GyRqPMXVjoHdVttBzqelAyE0zPcLyd8RehRUFBWa9r-TfphiB9fvCxJnIb9H3rboC9yNSS8IVJPzaCGi7usO10F043YDiOuDKtGcPPIfLUvyubs20BVa6/s252/echoes%20of%20the%20past%202.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="252" height="159" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvM7Ujby2HoQzsU-lpi7hPz4jR4L_A6uFVelOEBWEc7O8yD14VgoOvNkZIZMN0UKygdV0GyRqPMXVjoHdVttBzqelAyE0zPcLyd8RehRUFBWa9r-TfphiB9fvCxJnIb9H3rboC9yNSS8IVJPzaCGi7usO10F043YDiOuDKtGcPPIfLUvyubs20BVa6/w200-h159/echoes%20of%20the%20past%202.jpg" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I suppose. But it’s not like I’m being abused or beaten up or neglected.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s true. But you’re entitled to have whatever feelings you have. You don’t have to be beaten up to feel hurt and angry.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No one gets angry in my family. We’re polite and respectful, except when we were little kids of course. But like I’ve never heard my parents fight. They never scream at each other.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And do you think they have a good marriage, a close marriage.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I wouldn’t say that. They kind of exist in the same house and are pleasant enough to each other, but I wouldn’t say they’re close. I’m not sure anyone in my family is close to anyone else.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Sounds lonely. And sad.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I guess. I’m not sure I know anything else.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“It sounds like you know something else when you batter cars.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“That’s not being close!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No, but you were feeling something intensely. I think you said you felt free, that you were showing them you couldn’t be pushed around.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes, that’s right, but I’m not sure how that’s related to my parents or to closeness.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“As you said, everyone in your family is proper and respectful. Everyone is good. But there’s an absence of feelings, any feelings, angry feelings, loving feelings. It kind of sounds like you’re living in a doll’s house.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Funny you should say that. I’ve had friends tell me my parent’s house reminds them of a doll’s house. I always thought they meant because it was super done by an interior designer, but maybe they meant more than that.” Pause. “So you think it’s good for me to be ramming cars because it gives me a chance to express my feelings?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I wouldn’t say that. It does give you a chance to let loose with feelings you’ve kept bottled up, but you’re acting out the feelings against inanimate objects, not really letting yourself know what or who you’re angry at. I suspect you’ve been carrying around lots of feelings for a long time.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Silence.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So what should I do about my obsession about ramming cars?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Well, when you first have the thought or the impulse, I’d try asking yourself what you’re feeling right then. What made you have that impulse right at that moment?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But can I still do it?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Perhaps it would be better to ask if you can not do it. If you can not do it, that would be best, but I don’t know if you can stop quite that easily.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbb_WxxU59swn2_mpdfSwJG6Nj_b0CpRmuWzgiWwrDu-F7VhfEn-aHa9NS1aoMiDro-AZXC4PvZ8cqH6paJgrZN3jRkyBffs_5rqvJD4wvYNpqEuY4h9W9OEV0_rCdIDn1Jx6Zth7eyuQnD9qAxEo7lFv7YwV4cflYyFyVtuYV7P0QaZw-TSLEfJU/s144/anger%20Part%20II%204.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="144" data-original-width="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgbb_WxxU59swn2_mpdfSwJG6Nj_b0CpRmuWzgiWwrDu-F7VhfEn-aHa9NS1aoMiDro-AZXC4PvZ8cqH6paJgrZN3jRkyBffs_5rqvJD4wvYNpqEuY4h9W9OEV0_rCdIDn1Jx6Zth7eyuQnD9qAxEo7lFv7YwV4cflYyFyVtuYV7P0QaZw-TSLEfJU/s16000/anger%20Part%20II%204.jpg" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />Silence.</span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I just had the desire to do it, to do it as soon as I leave your office.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And do you know why that is?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">She shakes her head.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You sure?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">Brenda drops her head. Very quietly she says, “Maybe because I felt you were taking something away from me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Which made you feel…?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I guess annoyed.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So it felt like I was telling you what to do – or what not to do – and depriving you of something you enjoy. That made you angry and wanting to act out that anger by ramming cars.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I guess.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I think we made a lot of progress today.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But what if I still want to ram cars?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.2839972727272726; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-size: large;">“No one changes overnight, Brenda.”</span></span></p><div><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-21787417774348931012022-04-08T22:06:00.024-04:002022-04-09T19:31:43.087-04:00Being Bad<p>
</p><p style="line-height: 1.284; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt; text-align: left;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><p style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">I open my waiting room door to a slender young woman who looks up at me as though startled. With perfect posture she follows me into my office and sits gingerly on the chair I designate. She stares at me expectantly.<br /></span><span style="font-size: large;">“How can I help you?” I ask, smiling.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“This is all confidential, right?” she asks quietly.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Yes,” I say, immediately on guard.<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I’ve done something terrible.” </span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">I say nothing, my anxiety increasing. <br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">Silence.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0OzPMWEF8WUWD_6oMI1IupPIroBmN0RSddFHKXVIS4BqM8BS21Cd-y8qUZytAg93A_sYJk63u3Zt1_caWIff4l2zwVnoZBPmW-bXQgds3BWdmtgIsa88EA9_KSp_TAixGtR8FnL5-9hbI-QUIs0ufpRFYb5qtylExSkWaML1p1Sv-XXnH6bNJw7r/s240/secrets%201.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="240" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgd0OzPMWEF8WUWD_6oMI1IupPIroBmN0RSddFHKXVIS4BqM8BS21Cd-y8qUZytAg93A_sYJk63u3Zt1_caWIff4l2zwVnoZBPmW-bXQgds3BWdmtgIsa88EA9_KSp_TAixGtR8FnL5-9hbI-QUIs0ufpRFYb5qtylExSkWaML1p1Sv-XXnH6bNJw7r/w200-h167/secrets%201.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><br />“Do you want to tell me what that terrible thing was or would you prefer to give me some background information first?” I ask, trying to make us both more comfortable.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Well, I’m Brenda Masters. I’m 29, a real estate broker. I work in my father’s company. I do pretty well,” she adds, smiling for the first time. “I like it. I did graduate from college because my parents wanted me to, but I kind of always wanted to go into the business. My older brother’s in the business too. My older sister is studying to be a doctor. She was always the brain. I own my condo – my Dad bought it for me – although I’d like to own a house one day. I date, but there’s no one special, not for a while.”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pause.<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“My life’s pretty good. That’s what makes this all the more strange.”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Perhaps you need to tell me what “this” is.”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">Taking a deep breath, she says, “About a month ago I parked downtown and went to do some shopping. I’m not sure how long I was gone, but when I got back there was a BMW convertible behind me and some fancy Porsche in front. They penned me in. I couldn’t move. Made me mad. I stood there a while hoping one of them would come back. No such luck. Finally I got into my car and tried to more a few inches up and back, up and back. But it was ridiculous. I couldn’t get anywhere.” <br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">Pause. <br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhml69s656JbW_GHzdgzyUl_GV-WEdXqPUVYW_tfX2VH5mTjvhPRhsNW3r9w1xO_QL1kHleJttWW5gxcmnw3580BOpAz5j1C9n-JJb-XaafvgVBJpcpvQKo7EpY6O30z9794OYEUuKHShCUNhz82jRZabveSMB4LnmX5sebA2zkNyZ_fWobX-TYiKwY/s300/you%20didn't%20do%20anything%20wrong%202.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="285" data-original-width="300" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhml69s656JbW_GHzdgzyUl_GV-WEdXqPUVYW_tfX2VH5mTjvhPRhsNW3r9w1xO_QL1kHleJttWW5gxcmnw3580BOpAz5j1C9n-JJb-XaafvgVBJpcpvQKo7EpY6O30z9794OYEUuKHShCUNhz82jRZabveSMB4LnmX5sebA2zkNyZ_fWobX-TYiKwY/w200-h190/you%20didn't%20do%20anything%20wrong%202.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>“So then I stepped on the gas to see if I could move one of the cars a<br /> little. And then I gave it more gas and before long I was ramming first one car and then the other. Bang! Bang!! Up and back, up and back. Crunch, crunch, crunch. I was obviously damaging my car too, but I didn’t care. I liked the feeling, the power. I liked showing them they couldn’t just push me around!” she says, quite animated at this point. “This time I was the one doing the pushing! And then I was out! I was free! It was a great feeling. I showed them!”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">She pauses, seemingly trying to return to her previous calm and controlled state. “I guess I was lucky there weren’t many people around that day, maybe because it was raining. I told my Dad someone messed up my bumper and he had it fixed. No biggie.”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And does it feel like ‘no biggie?’”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Well, I guess I felt both thrilled and guilty. I decided not think about it. But I couldn’t. That’s the problem,” she says, lowering her head. “I’ve done it again. More than once. I look for the right place and the right day and I do it again. I know that’s not good. I know it’s wrong. And I know I’ll get in trouble. But it’s become like an obsession. Can you help me?”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I think so, but first we have to understand why it’s become an obsession, why you feel so stimulated battering someone’s car. Do you have any thoughts?”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t know. I’ve never seen myself as an angry person. I was always the good girl. My brother used to tease me for being so good, said it made him look bad.”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Do you know why you were so good?”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t know. Maybe because my brother was the boy and my sister was the smart one and I had to do something to distinguish myself, so I was good.”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“And what happened when you felt angry?”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I didn’t get angry.”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“You never felt angry?”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I never expressed it.”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“So what did you do with your anger?”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">She hesitates. “I didn’t eat. And when that wasn’t okay, I ate and threw up.”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Do you still do that?”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Sometimes, but not much.”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“What’s going on in your life today when you eat and throw up.”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I don’t know. I guess I feel fat.”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Has your throwing up increased or decreased since you’ve been ramming cars?”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“Hmm. I might not have thrown up since that first time. Wow! You think there’s a connection?”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMuzVPuiGqoaMpy8Ftsy_SfwTp4J1oPdft_OewKIDjofk0IHYfNL2BStZAnTWYpqnotsF0eBUK1tQMe7GIZxQdx3MN3agl6npX1ebkZhZGP91c5I_VEehO6MqAhmBxwAbxh_iPOH4d8QOqvOcwLwBMvin1vF2pbGDLShmb1rraHREQiphhVFfKslq/s342/how%20grown%20up%20am%20I%202.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="342" data-original-width="342" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjMuzVPuiGqoaMpy8Ftsy_SfwTp4J1oPdft_OewKIDjofk0IHYfNL2BStZAnTWYpqnotsF0eBUK1tQMe7GIZxQdx3MN3agl6npX1ebkZhZGP91c5I_VEehO6MqAhmBxwAbxh_iPOH4d8QOqvOcwLwBMvin1vF2pbGDLShmb1rraHREQiphhVFfKslq/w200-h200/how%20grown%20up%20am%20I%202.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;">“Could be. You know, Brenda, you immediately struck me as a person very much in control, holding yourself back, reining yourself in. I wonder if both throwing up and ramming cars is a way for you to let go, to release some of the anger you’ve been sitting on your whole life.”</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“But what do I have to feel angry about?”<br /><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><span style="font-size: large;">“I guess that’s one of the things we’ll need to figure out.”</span></div><div><br /></div></div><br /><br /><p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span id="docs-internal-guid-8cbd1dea-7fff-9c89-e01f-d0345d258fde"></span></p>
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{page:WordSection1;}</style></p>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-48808750465031579782022-03-04T12:12:00.000-05:002022-03-04T12:12:23.529-05:00Undecided Part II<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-b9ecafb8-7fff-396b-9b26-ba02bfba3650" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It’s not good,” Stan says, shaking his head from side to side. “You have to tell me what to do! I can’t stand it! All I do is think about this day in and day out. Should I stay with Paulette and my family or should I throw it all up in the air and be with Frank?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Silence.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Tell me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj29OQBLSICOBOC_TyuuCF_OST8KrsZ0jsmEJFSHo2cs05FJe0AzsJTHHAyrGU1LsKfE_9ma1jD0asQMFVDiRtR8TPvounTNmbbpwP9AEBphDeQqSAOd0ReXJlwshwDE5bMXCci7IQsMdgZzjftAtZgN6nlkjuoj_8drTzkxuhpFt0vyc6qoZSX5lCe=s380" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="250" data-original-width="380" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj29OQBLSICOBOC_TyuuCF_OST8KrsZ0jsmEJFSHo2cs05FJe0AzsJTHHAyrGU1LsKfE_9ma1jD0asQMFVDiRtR8TPvounTNmbbpwP9AEBphDeQqSAOd0ReXJlwshwDE5bMXCci7IQsMdgZzjftAtZgN6nlkjuoj_8drTzkxuhpFt0vyc6qoZSX5lCe=w200-h132" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />“You know I can’t tell you Stan. No one can make that decision but you.”</span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He drops his head into his hands. “I can’t. I can’t make the decision.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“If I told you what to do – which I wouldn’t – what would you hope I’d say? </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That I should follow my heart and be with Frank.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“So is that what you want?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes. Yes. It is what I want. But is what I want enough? Is what I want always what matters most? If I want to go murder my boss, should I go murder my boss? No, obviously not. Sometimes you can’t have what you want. Sometimes you shouldn’t hurt other people to get what you want.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s a very good point. Let me ask you something, why would my telling you to follow your heart and be with Frank, change what you just said about not hurting Paulette and your children?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And my parents. And the rest of my family”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And why would my telling you to be with Frank change how you felt about hurting those people?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I guess because you’d be giving me permission. Because you’d be saying being gay isn’t bad, isn’t a perversion.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“So now you’ve introduced something else. It’s not only about hurting people, it’s about whether you think being gay is bad.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Is it?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No. But it’s not about what I believe, it’s about what you feel. If you tell me you want to work on the negative feelings you have about homosexuality, I’m happy to do that, but you’ll still have to decide whether or not you want to leave your marriage. And I suppose there’s also the question of whether if you stay in your marriage and feel as though you’re accepting second best, are you making Paulette accept second best as well? Are you depriving her of feeling with someone else the same way you feel with Frank?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Oh no! You’ve just made this even more complicated!” Stan stares at me intently. “Wait a minute, are you a lesbian? Do you feel I should be with Frank? That’s it’s better to be homosexual than heterosexual?”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhgTgy_Q4rkBJ4GFV4ScYineTmIeEEN8plO6-nGut_1O3dKW3lzlO_1CUC1GkDtZ-sWDLJFZoj9HHB0el1ubpDM-UX7Ds4Y8OetR6fxcCAdceewVN5ZA6Wrs18aILz7rQaS-pj5yHPPivuUKKuyR1xEspfDTORtvY0vQoveT-CjcrKpmTKOBPILHYh-=s269" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="269" height="149" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhgTgy_Q4rkBJ4GFV4ScYineTmIeEEN8plO6-nGut_1O3dKW3lzlO_1CUC1GkDtZ-sWDLJFZoj9HHB0el1ubpDM-UX7Ds4Y8OetR6fxcCAdceewVN5ZA6Wrs18aILz7rQaS-pj5yHPPivuUKKuyR1xEspfDTORtvY0vQoveT-CjcrKpmTKOBPILHYh-=w200-h149" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m startled. “Now I’m confused,” I say. “I thought you wanted me to tell you to be with Frank which I certainly haven’t done, but now you wonder if I’m a lesbian because I raise the question of whether staying with Paulette is the only way to not hurt her?</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Wow!” Pause. “I guess it wouldn’t have been all right with me if you’d told me to be with Frank. Even giving me a possible reason to leave Paulette, like it would be kinder to leave her to find someone who was really into her, it… I don’t know. I guess it really scared me.” Pause. “I guess it’s that I don’t want to be gay. I don’t want to be rejected by my family. I don’t want all the hassles gay people have to go through. I just want to be normal, to have things be how they were.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And is that possible, Stan?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That scared me again. And again made me wonder if you really are gay.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I think you are very frightened. And when you feel as scared as you feel right now, it’s easy to think that there’s someone outside of you who’s frightening you, and right now that someone is me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“So you’re saying I’m being paranoid?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m saying right now you feel me as dangerous. And that’s okay. We can deal with that. We can explore what makes you so frightened both inside your head and outside in the world.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“So you could think that homosexuality was okay and not be homosexual yourself?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes,” I say, concerned about how much less adult Stan feels to me right now. “Stan, you told me that you came from a Christian, conservative background. I assume the message was that homosexuality was bad, a sin?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Definitely.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And do you think that’s what’s scaring you now, that you’re afraid if you’re gay you’ll go to hell?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But maybe if I give up Frank and stay with Paulette I could go back to having a normal life and be redeemed.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I guess you’ve added a whole new dimension to your conflict. It’s not only figuring out what you want and not only trying not to hurt anyone, it’s also wrestling with a difficult religious question.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And can you help me with that?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0kezWx7ykpjiOfNmL1Guh1w8xQLG_un8CI8qBc9PCoit3MiIzTTYYNTplnASOyhYPfRovNVcVzlm-9B8kdP0ko5XMcqo03wmJiYFD2qji44Uqk3e7cLDvJhzsyW7Xi0GkIrV0G14yy3S8BvEtkuHBuUouIVfXTPj1M3leQLL2yjVvYGdx8tLOlacg=s256" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="192" data-original-width="256" height="150" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEi0kezWx7ykpjiOfNmL1Guh1w8xQLG_un8CI8qBc9PCoit3MiIzTTYYNTplnASOyhYPfRovNVcVzlm-9B8kdP0ko5XMcqo03wmJiYFD2qji44Uqk3e7cLDvJhzsyW7Xi0GkIrV0G14yy3S8BvEtkuHBuUouIVfXTPj1M3leQLL2yjVvYGdx8tLOlacg=w200-h150" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />“Well, I can help you explore your thoughts and feelings, but I can’t answer the religious question for you any more than I could answer whether or not to be with Frank.”</span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Thanks. I don’t know why, or how, but somehow I think this helped.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.295; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m not sure why either, but perhaps it was parsing out the different pieces of your conflict so that your feelings don’t seem so overwhelming.” </span></span></p>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-8691089526582010052022-02-04T09:05:00.031-05:002022-02-04T10:33:55.322-05:00Undecided<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-9320465e-7fff-2a18-11ba-af1c4ea67eff" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I appreciate your willingness to see me, even virtually,” Stan begins. He’s a nice looking man who seems anxious, unsure, fidgeting with his fingers, moving in his seat.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9wQw-s91boRDkVKptwPgHUFHptD5A6zHR5UMP11yJ2w8rm5kvYaKhjYm-4GqQh6Yz1w0irtXUoLZF2NCVQdBEfkI8ZFhIIZg4VDPgtCX9GP2ODOTJwbBjKoCMDXkNSaET-eQc8GXS65NswSedLpnjhQvRV6Xnhn2GIrWO65Hoel8yRYjnGrLxigIs=s316" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="284" data-original-width="316" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEj9wQw-s91boRDkVKptwPgHUFHptD5A6zHR5UMP11yJ2w8rm5kvYaKhjYm-4GqQh6Yz1w0irtXUoLZF2NCVQdBEfkI8ZFhIIZg4VDPgtCX9GP2ODOTJwbBjKoCMDXkNSaET-eQc8GXS65NswSedLpnjhQvRV6Xnhn2GIrWO65Hoel8yRYjnGrLxigIs=w200-h180" width="200" /></a></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />“How can I help you?” I ask.</span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I just hope you can help me. I want to leave my wife. No, no, that’s not exactly true. I don’t want to leave my wife. I love Paulette. But I have to leave her. I love her and I love my two boys, but I just can’t go on like this. I’m sorry, I know I’m not making any sense.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You can say whatever you need to say, however you need to say it.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I’m in love with someone else. A man! I can’t believe it. I don’t even know how this happened. I’ve never been attracted to a man before. Or, or maybe I have. I don’t know. But all I know is that I love Frank. I never expected to love Frank, I mean I don’t know if I even liked Frank at first, but then, there it was, he kissed me and I don’t know if I ever felt anything so powerful in my life. So that’s it. I love Frank and I love Paulette. But I can’t keep lying to Paulette. I don’t even know how she hasn’t figured it out. I do everything I can to avoid having sex with her. Not that I mind having sex with her, but it feels like I’m being unfaithful to Frank! Which I know is completely crazy”’ Stan takes a breath. “So that’s the story. Do you think I’m awful?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No, of course not. I think you’re in a lot of pain. Can you to tell me a little more about yourself?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br />“I’m 38. I’ve been married for 12 years. I have two boys, six and ten. I was supposed to be a physical therapist, but I ended up selling solar panels. I like it. Makes me feel I’m helping people. And the environment. That’s how I ended up in Florida. It’s a good place to sell solar panels. My wife and I are actually from a small town in Ohio west of Cleveland, conservative, Christian area. South Florida was an adjustment, but we’ve learned to love it.” Pause. “‘We’ve learned to love it.’ That’s the problem, ‘we’ has always meant me and my wife. I don’t know. I don’t know if I can leave that ‘we,’ break up my family, have to explain all this to my wife. And to my parents. I don’t even want to think about them.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /> “And if you do think about your parents…?”“They’ll never accept it. I don’t think they’d say they didn’t want to see me again, but I know my mother would cry hysterically and my father would preach endlessly about my going to hell.” Pause. “This whole thing is such a mess. What would I tell my kids? Would my wife keep me from seeing them? No, I don’t think she’d do that. You know, the more I talk about this the more I wonder if I should just leave things as they are, keep lying, keep seeing Frank on the side. Maybe this thing with Frank will just burn itself out. Maybe it’s not love, maybe it’s just lust.”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhTdAFy2xVv1fzcVLLBW5i00hLtajl1f8ietnD3VhnmuMzNixySbE1UtswgM4MfnH9RGWgoIeYpWCmupm5uWL5VYqIGYs-nzrylpswQlZwRnvMC69s5hjsDHKb56KAUD5c4AWVZ4i_PDGkv9h7hF-GDrXi-XOKX9_gFT3uu-a7Dm65GC4y6PCBwXtCo=s500" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="334" data-original-width="500" height="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhTdAFy2xVv1fzcVLLBW5i00hLtajl1f8ietnD3VhnmuMzNixySbE1UtswgM4MfnH9RGWgoIeYpWCmupm5uWL5VYqIGYs-nzrylpswQlZwRnvMC69s5hjsDHKb56KAUD5c4AWVZ4i_PDGkv9h7hF-GDrXi-XOKX9_gFT3uu-a7Dm65GC4y6PCBwXtCo=w200-h134" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Can we talk a little about your sexuality? You said Frank was the first man you’d been attracted to and then you didn’t seem sure of that.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I played football in high school. And you know, we’d all be in the locker room, showering, trying to see whose was bigger while pretending we weren’t looking. Sometimes there would be a guy and, I don’t know, I guess you could say I might have been attracted to him, but I didn’t think much about it. I dated girls. I had sex with girls. I met my wife in college, we had sex, we dated a while, we got married and here we are.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And how was the sex with girls? With your wife?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Good. Good. It was good.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But not as good as with Frank?”<br />“Nowhere near. I never had sex like with Frank. I can see with across the room and all I want to do is jump into bed with him. He was my customer, buying solar panels for his house. At first I thought he was stuck-up, arrogant. Seemed like an awfully big house for one person. When I came by he started asking me to have a glass a wine. And that led to lunch. And that led to sex and where I am today.” Pause. “What do you think I should do?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I can’t possibly answer that…”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What would you say if I was your son?” Stan asks, interrupting.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What makes you ask that?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjElZapuxEOJwuglKpQnx1-nfClHbwKH6qXV1UV3ly_EwYmByQ69i6GCAz4YyuydSd0NU9wbKktWt9FqRnZuow3Uotkt-A7CJ96Fmp3_F_vZLRtHiP6bp5SFt_bH34qGiGc3nk7YnUGKpOxipxI9EKbH_mKvam_qSV1A8wwaf65ceOl0i9_1dAG1_ub=s360" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="360" data-original-width="360" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjElZapuxEOJwuglKpQnx1-nfClHbwKH6qXV1UV3ly_EwYmByQ69i6GCAz4YyuydSd0NU9wbKktWt9FqRnZuow3Uotkt-A7CJ96Fmp3_F_vZLRtHiP6bp5SFt_bH34qGiGc3nk7YnUGKpOxipxI9EKbH_mKvam_qSV1A8wwaf65ceOl0i9_1dAG1_ub=w200-h200" width="200" /></a></span></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"> </span></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I don’t know. I guess you’re probably about my parent’s age.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“It sounds as though your concern about what others think makes it hard for you to sort out what you want for you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s definitely true.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.8; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I know you feel a lot of pressure to try and make a decision right now, but I’d suggest that you give yourself some time and that you give us some time to figure out what you really want.”</span></span></p><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /></span><br /><style>@font-face
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{page:WordSection1;}</style>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-66022660506537461022022-01-08T15:07:00.002-05:002022-01-08T15:07:21.138-05:00I Can't Stand It!<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-39f33d83-7fff-8875-89ad-8fc8c2be2cce" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"> <span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I can’t stand this anymore!” Karen shrieks. On my video screen I watch a usually attractive 35 year old woman grimace and pull at her hair. “When, when is it going to end?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I don’t know the answer to that, Karen. It’s a pandemic and the virus will do what it’s going to do.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But we can’t plan anything. We don’t know from one moment to the next what’s going to be happening. How many times have we gone back and forth from being in the office and back on video? I can’t stand it! I feel as though I’m going crazy.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtmrUp-kpaReQOcRgcw5hW_QkcgklKaDQHB1P9ZmwkeGGxmYxkRsIoCaI27V1RZ9p4-4sFGauEVsxlAcUTXQNqEKPLr_ALLPLlFVS2PeL95s6-F0yvX9bOGz5tkHP-WmnaHzA38NbsPwkhx3Z6jb9rwiPIquEOmhCuOzLK6pqoVPuQLNyBU2g2O1yF=s264" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="264" data-original-width="191" height="202" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjtmrUp-kpaReQOcRgcw5hW_QkcgklKaDQHB1P9ZmwkeGGxmYxkRsIoCaI27V1RZ9p4-4sFGauEVsxlAcUTXQNqEKPLr_ALLPLlFVS2PeL95s6-F0yvX9bOGz5tkHP-WmnaHzA38NbsPwkhx3Z6jb9rwiPIquEOmhCuOzLK6pqoVPuQLNyBU2g2O1yF=w146-h202" width="146" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />“The uncertainty is difficult for everyone, Karen. And I do understand that going back on video after a few weeks in the office is very disconcerting.”</span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“And then there’s your vacation! How could you leave in the middle of all this?! What if you got sick? What if you died? Would I even know? Would anyone tell me?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I understand your feeling angry with me for abandoning you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But answer my question. Would anyone tell me if you died or would I just be wondering forever?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, a colleague would contact you if I died. But I wonder if your worrying about my dying came from your feeling so unsafe without me. My absence has always been understandably frightening to you and certainly with Covid raising everyone’s anxiety, it’s easy to see how you’d fear losing me forever.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You mean like when I was a kid and my mother went away leaving me with my insane father?” Pause. “Yes, that was terrifying. It was always terrifying, even when she was there, but when she was gone that was really, really terrifying. I never knew what to expect. Truthfully, my mother was useless at preventing my father’s explosions, but it still felt a bit safer when she was there. He was so unpredictable. You just never knew what would set him off: a book left on the kitchen table, the dog barking, my clattering a dish. It was so scary. And I could never understand why she had to go away. What was so much more important than me?!”</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQBRc1iiqtWD3XJ7kVOR31IsTkz9QnFS5xhXjBF2-_6mQKG84CWn2cPJ0F0yh5uJUUwZa-v6HBjCFCO4BvP-SsxTzqm5ujmJBd1kHMVPph8O57hcH7uDVHZpk5DMxvWtgUOP4hzWs0FrhqfDH4cGBQzDVdgQCfpD91EOB5BfmTBn4nZqjkmxEryIxp=s300" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="300" data-original-width="300" height="193" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEgQBRc1iiqtWD3XJ7kVOR31IsTkz9QnFS5xhXjBF2-_6mQKG84CWn2cPJ0F0yh5uJUUwZa-v6HBjCFCO4BvP-SsxTzqm5ujmJBd1kHMVPph8O57hcH7uDVHZpk5DMxvWtgUOP4hzWs0FrhqfDH4cGBQzDVdgQCfpD91EOB5BfmTBn4nZqjkmxEryIxp=w193-h193" width="193" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“The pandemic replicates your childhood experience in so many ways: you never know what’s going to happen next and, just like your mother, even when I’m here I’m pretty ‘useless’ to change the reality of the pandemic, just like she couldn’t prevent your father’s explosions.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But why did you have to go away? She went away for business, although as a kid I never knew what that meant. She went away to see her parents, but I didn’t understand why she couldn’t take me with her. I guess my Dad would say we couldn’t afford it, but I didn’t understand that either.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I don’t think, Karen, anything your Mom told you about why she went away would have felt like a good enough reason to you and I’m sure that’s true of me as well. You’d always feel you weren’t important enough, that you were being left for something more important than you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You’re not going to tell me, are you? You’re not going to tell me why you went away.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I don’t think the reason I went away would make any difference to you. As I said, it wouldn’t make you feel any less left or abandoned.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“But it might make me feel like I mattered enough for you to tell me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Did you have any thoughts, ideas of why I went away?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well that’s an obvious therapist trick! I won’t play!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What I think is happening now is that you’re finding something to fight with me about, as opposed to us dealing with your anger about my leaving, and perhaps also the fear and sadness you felt underneath.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Why won’t you tell me?!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Because no matter what I say, I will have left you for someone or something else and it’s those feelings we need to deal with, not the specifics of where I went or why. Your mother told you why she went away and it never made a difference to you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Tell me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhSeWJJZ5pytoJqCJqOu6aoUfcilMtSNdu9UF4VJBjRn6K0GXiv4OZ1H_ptO8VMP-qu4Kw2gnEuoHRId-NpH7zN3y-1V_YPsNgX3v-9OrtoQ5do343qR2ZdjWWdyavE4fDVDMkBTgZqciq_SqGQyx7tOURc95UphMqoUfzzp2EAu3Zl_R0r8mn8TIiz=s144" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="144" data-original-width="144" height="144" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhSeWJJZ5pytoJqCJqOu6aoUfcilMtSNdu9UF4VJBjRn6K0GXiv4OZ1H_ptO8VMP-qu4Kw2gnEuoHRId-NpH7zN3y-1V_YPsNgX3v-9OrtoQ5do343qR2ZdjWWdyavE4fDVDMkBTgZqciq_SqGQyx7tOURc95UphMqoUfzzp2EAu3Zl_R0r8mn8TIiz" width="144" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;">I struggle to decide how to respond. I’m beginning to feel angry, which I know is also what Karen feels. I don’t think an endless power struggle between us will be helpful. And I also don’t think my telling her will change her feelings. I finally say, “I went to attend a friend’s special birthday.”</span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“You told me! I won!”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I’m startled.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yay!! You didn’t expect me to react like that. This was great. I feel powerful! And way less scared.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s true, Karen, that’s not how I expected you to react. You feel as though you won and therefore you’re no longer the scared child, but rather the powerful adult.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes.” Pause. “And you’re right, I still feel you put someone else above me. But it doesn’t hurt nearly as much.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“There’s a lot to process here. We’ll have to continue next session.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p><br />Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1923249419959081206.post-1376600771248989552021-12-10T08:55:00.001-05:002021-12-10T08:55:47.834-05:00The Outsider<p dir="ltr" id="docs-internal-guid-b107b008-7fff-53c1-18c0-63d50be55083" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"> <span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I told my Mom I wasn’t coming come for Christmas,” Doug says, adopting a calm, matter-of-fact tone. “It didn’t go over well. She kept telling me I couldn’t split the family over politics, that family was more important. And I kept telling her nothing was more important than what’s happening to our country and, besides, as she might have noticed at Thanksgiving, our family was already split. Then she told me she didn’t know how I got so brainwashed, that I was brought up in a good, solid Republican family and how did I end up being so liberal. Unlike my brother’s reaction, she didn’t call me crazy or a Communist, so at least she hasn’t painted me as evil incarnate.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“So how do you feel, Doug? How do you feel not going home for Christmas? How do you feel being the odd person out in your family?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCwibs8ObDmC2AQcNRA0exUMKnCP4VuWS9vHrEfvCcJz8gNxfs69QG-9M8lOMiabbvbuo94SEi5yUNCREdI9FwjHLd_IowoH_5p8LFGapPyV9wrhvWj-FmhVaPpMmhJ8fBgvRPaFywT4OA-4MUMwyGRt2FqsE1taN79Ka9YtU3ujI2n-GH12opbkpj=s225" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="225" data-original-width="225" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEiCwibs8ObDmC2AQcNRA0exUMKnCP4VuWS9vHrEfvCcJz8gNxfs69QG-9M8lOMiabbvbuo94SEi5yUNCREdI9FwjHLd_IowoH_5p8LFGapPyV9wrhvWj-FmhVaPpMmhJ8fBgvRPaFywT4OA-4MUMwyGRt2FqsE1taN79Ka9YtU3ujI2n-GH12opbkpj=w200-h200" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />“Hmm. I didn’t think I was feeling much about it, but when you just asked, I don’t know, I guess it made me feel sad, like maybe even lonely. I mean my girlfriend and most of my friends think like I do, but still, my family is my family. I wouldn’t want to lose them. That’s really why I came to see you to begin with, feeling separate, apart, isolated even when I’m with a bunch of people.”</span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yes, you said you didn’t know why you should feel so alienated, when so many people obviously cared about you.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Yeah.” Pause. “But maybe I never felt really cared about in my own family.” Pause. “I mean, I was always different. My family is really into sports, group games, tossing around a football. That’s never been me. I was always the stereotypical shy kid who had my head in a book or, which I loved most of all, drawing, painting, looking to see how I could capture the essence of the world on a piece of paper.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No wonder you’re an artist,” I say, smiling.</span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhhwn6wkyyRDmixjq3jlmXYd6hBLBJyTYvpn4349umCeSo8MPBuV2BWkknGi3HGGysBdyO8GluGl4vNQT-umugvGu_s7U0b47SGZIe3PhJ2H6z9fF22UWZK_WDlErvAvdVzxM-rt_8Dpf5IVeK4azULq-PY4--GiAAwQcAIztoRl6BcD1iJN53FQ8Bf=s300" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="168" data-original-width="300" height="112" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhhwn6wkyyRDmixjq3jlmXYd6hBLBJyTYvpn4349umCeSo8MPBuV2BWkknGi3HGGysBdyO8GluGl4vNQT-umugvGu_s7U0b47SGZIe3PhJ2H6z9fF22UWZK_WDlErvAvdVzxM-rt_8Dpf5IVeK4azULq-PY4--GiAAwQcAIztoRl6BcD1iJN53FQ8Bf=w200-h112" width="200" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, I’m trying. But meanwhile I’m sort of making a living giving art lessons.” Pause. “My father keeps trying to talk me into being a financial planner like him, going into his firm, but that’s absolutely the last thing I want to do. I can’t imagine staring at numbers all day and trying to make more and more money. There’s so much more beauty in life.” Pause. “But that’s the problem, I’m different, always have been.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“I guess my question is, why is being different a problem? Are you saying that in your family being different was automatically seen as bad?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Defective. I think that’s the word. There was something wrong with me. There was something wrong that I’d want to try to draw a perfect rose, to get the color absolutely right, rather than screaming at a football game. My Dad used to call me a sissy. I think he worried I’d turn out gay. That would have been a nightmare, gay in my family! When I was younger, I worried about it a bit too, but once I hit adolescence there was no question I was into girls. It was a relief actually. And I never had problems with girls. Girls liked me. Probably because I was sensitive and cared about them. And all that helped. But it still didn’t take away the feeling of being different.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Feeling different and feeling defective aren’t the same.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s true. I guess sometimes I feel one and sometimes the other. But the defective feeling doesn’t go away.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“What about your mother? How did she see you?”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnSg1S7IoLNJsNyy9qS9GQ13qDhIRGUvfUHvUQaUnDh_az7kUzrFTaGpTVn8PDOme6o1JV8JDIG_HfWpXUzIa7Z2SFodyUZw3ctvE8kgsPaePpRF-2BY12TnMWYma5WxcHfcVE-xcx3QKdrYA8eL4fngeWFsFfzkNU1rjI0q5JO4qUwiVcas3qtSsY=s358" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="358" data-original-width="320" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjnSg1S7IoLNJsNyy9qS9GQ13qDhIRGUvfUHvUQaUnDh_az7kUzrFTaGpTVn8PDOme6o1JV8JDIG_HfWpXUzIa7Z2SFodyUZw3ctvE8kgsPaePpRF-2BY12TnMWYma5WxcHfcVE-xcx3QKdrYA8eL4fngeWFsFfzkNU1rjI0q5JO4qUwiVcas3qtSsY=w179-h200" width="179" /></a></span></div><span style="font-size: large;"><br />“Hmm. This might sound strange, but I guess kind of neutrally. I mean I know my mother loves me, and she never saw me as negatively as my Dad, but I don’t know. I think I was just sort of there for her and she knew she had to take care of me and she did what she had to do.” Pause. “This is a little embarrassing, but you know earlier when you smiled at me and said, ‘no wonder you’re an artist,’?”</span><p></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I nod.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Well, that’s not a response I ever would have gotten from my Mom. It’s like you were pleased with me, validating me. I never felt that in my family.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“That’s really sad, Doug,” I say, feeling both his sadness and my own. “Thank you for telling me.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Tears fill his eyes. “There you go again, giving me something I would never have received in my family.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I smile. “It sounds as though you’re going to be able to take in my validating words and, as you do, I suspect you’ll come to feel less defective and less lonely.”</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"> </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 8pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; text-decoration: none; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap; white-space: pre;"><br /></span></p>Linda Sherby PH.D., ABPPhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09279584570624265917noreply@blogger.com0