So what else is new, I think to myself, aware of the annoyance and sarcasm in my thought.
“The real estate market is really picking up. It’s great. But the customers are keeping me hopping. Have to be there when they want or the sales go elsewhere.”
I remain silent.
“OK, so let me switch gears. What’s been going on? Well, Charlene is starting to drive me crazy. I think I’m going to have to break up with her. The sex is still great and she’s funny, but she’s so needy. I mean, I don’t mind sending her a quick text during the day, but I can’t be stopping to have some intense conversation. And just because I don’t have a 9 to 5 job, doesn’t mean I can see her whenever she wants. It’s not like that. My time isn’t my own. I have to be available to my customers.”
“Kind of like what you said to me about being late.”
“Yeah! Exactly! And you get it.”
“What is it that you think I get?”
“That I can’t help it. That I have to be available to my clients.”
Varying thoughts flood my mind. Lateness and commitment are big issues for Ryan. He came into treatment two years after his divorce saying that he was having difficulty keeping a relationship. At that point he was despondent, dejected, wondering what he was doing wrong. But he’s now lost himself in a flurry of activity, moving away from self-reflection, just as he moves away from commitment.
Lateness can also be an issue for me, although my years of doing treatment have diminished its affect. Still, there’s the scared, abandoned little girl in me waiting in the darkened school for my almost always late mother to pick me up. But Ryan’s lateness has a more dismissive quality, like he’s saying “you’re not worth my time.”
“You do get it, don’t you?” Ryan say, interrupting my thoughts.
“I think lateness and time and commitment is a far more complicated issue for you Ryan.”
“You don’t get it! You think I do it on purpose. Hey, I have to make a living! Remember all that child support I have to pay?”
“Can you say what your anger is about right now, Ryan?”
“Who says I’m angry?”
I feel a flash of annoyance and then, probably drawing on my own childhood experience, I feel sad for Ryan. It’s time to rein him in, to bring him back from his frantic busyness and avoidance. “I wonder if not feeling understood by me makes you feel alone and rejected,” I say.
“Whoa! That feels like a leap!”
“Ryan, let’s slow down here. You came into treatment feeling discouraged with the quality of your life, your relationships. But then you got yourself into a whirlwind – yes I know you have to make a living and that the real estate market is picking up – but I also think you’re trying to avoid yourself and your feelings and me and Charlene as well.”
He stares out the window. “It’s getting darker out there. Looks like it’s going to rain.”
“Sounds like that’s how you feel. If you stop for a minute, you can feel the darkness, the sadness come over you.”
“So what am I so sad about?”
“What are your thoughts?”
“It’s interesting, Ryan, when you just said it felt as though they didn’t give a shit, that’s exactly how it feels to me when you come in here and toss off a ‘sorry I’m late.’ It feels as though you don’t give a shit. So you’re behaving towards me as your parents behaved towards you and allowing me to feel what it felt like to be the kid you.”
“Wow! That’s deep. I’m not sure I’m smart enough to create that scenario.”
“It’s not something that you decide to do or figure out consciously. You act it out automatically so that in your relationships someone is always being the rejecting parent and the other person feels like the rejected child.”
“That would be a good reason for relationships not to work out.”
“Yes, that’s definitely true.”
“And what do I do about it?”
“First step is being aware of it. And we’ll definitely keep it in mind in our work here.”