Denial

As soon as I open the door I know that a different Rita is waiting for me today. Instead of her usual bubbly, sometimes false cheery self, I see a woman on the verge of tears who looks up at me beseechingly. 

Seated in my office, Rita begins. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I know I’m not stupid and I know I’m a 52 year old woman, so I don’t know why this is hitting me so hard. But I had no idea, absolutely no idea.”

I first thought Rita was referring to her husband Henry’s infidelity, but since it has been several months since she found out about his long-term affair, I assume she is referring to a more recent event. I wait.

“My parents are getting a divorce. They’re in their seventies! I couldn’t believe it.”

“I can understand being shocked about a decision that came out of the blue.”

“But that’s just it. It didn’t come out of the blue! My mother couldn’t believe I hadn’t known. She told me my father was unfaithful to her their entire marriage, that they fought about it constantly.”

Now it’s my turn to be surprised. Rita had always described her parent’s marriage as idyllic. She said that’s what made Henry’s betrayal even more disturbing. She’d never been personally close to anyone who dealt with infidelity.  

“I feel like I’m going crazy. I called my sister – my sister who’s younger than me - and she knew! She said they always fought about it! I asked her why we never talked about it. She said we’d literally put our blankets over our heads and guessed we did that figuratively too, like we didn’t want to think about it.”

“That’s a lot to take in. Maybe we should start with what you find the most disturbing about all these new revelations.”

“I don’t know. All of it. That I had no idea. How did I do that? Did I do that in my marriage too? Was I blind to my husband’s affair? Did he have other affairs I have no idea about? I feel as though I’m going in circles. My head feels like mush.”

“I guess one thing we know is that you have a striking ability to not know, to not see what you don’t want to see.”

“But why? Why can’t I know?”

“I guess it felt too intolerable to know.”

“But I can’t live my life like that! It’s a tremendous handicap. It’s like being divorced from reality.”

“I agree, but I think the question we need to ask ourselves is why you felt the need to deny what was right in front of you. You need to understand, not to beat yourself up.”

She sighs, but remains silent, looking dazed and confused. 

I think about denial as a defense. It works as long as it works, but when it breaks, reality smacks you in the face, hard.

“What do you feel about your Dad’s infidelity now? How do you feel about them divorcing?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t gotten there yet.”

“Okay, so tell me where you have gotten.”

“Trying to remember the past. Trying to remember them arguing, trying to remember putting my head under the covers.”

“What would you have felt if your parents divorced then, when you were a child?”

“That wasn’t possible! It’s couldn’t happen!”

“So let’s assume for a moment it was possible. What would you have felt?”

Rita stares at me wide-eyed, shaking her head, repeating, “It couldn’t happen, it couldn’t happen.”

“Rita, see if you can find your feelings,” I say gently.

She continues to stare at me until she starts sobbing. Then she buries her face in her hands.

“No, no,” she moans. “I’m all alone, left. I won’t make it. I can’t make it.”

I remain silent, respectful of her feelings as the scared, vulnerable child.

“A family, a unit,” she says between her sobs. “We were one or nothing. Lost, adrift, floating, nothing.”   

“Sounds pretty scary. I can certainly understand not wanting to know something that would lead to such catastophe.”

“But it’s not rational,” she says, quickly shaking her head as if trying to wake from a nightmare.

“No, it’s not rational, but that doesn’t mean it’s not how you felt and it’s how you felt that matters.”

Silence.

“I suddenly started thinking of my husband. Do I feel the same way about him? Do I feel there’d be nothing if I left him? Is that why I’m not leaving him?”

“Those are really good questions and I’m sure we’ll return to them next hour and for some time to come,” I reply, while thinking of the power of the unconscious, about Rita choosing a womanizer like her father without even consciously remembering that he was a womanizer.

The Unexpected Affair

Judith is a tall, attractive 44 year old woman who carries herself as if she knows she will be noticed, clearly distinguished from those around her. Although she’s presently a stay at home Mom, today she is dressed as the lawyer she is, a perfectly fitting gray suit and black high heels.

“I’ve decided to have an affair,” she says matter-of-factly.

I’m startled. In the six or so months I’ve seen Judith, she talked about being dissatisfied in her marriage, but hadn’t mentioned the presence of another man.

“With whom?” I ask.

“I don’t know yet.”

Silence.

“I know,” she continues, “that’s a rather unusual way to go about it, but since my husband hardly gives me the time of day – I can’t even remember the last time we had sex or even had a real conversation  - I decided I might as well get my needs met elsewhere. I’m not going to leave him. The kids need their father and I need some male attention so, an affair’s the answer.”

During the course of my career I have seen many men and women who have been unfaithful to their partners with one or many other people.  I’ve always been comfortable talking with them about both their feelings and the meaning of these multiple relationships. But Judith’s cavalier manner, her impulsive decision, and her pronouncement to me without any apparent willingness to discuss her decision, is both off-putting and confusing.

“When did you make this decision? And how do you feel about it?”

“It feels like a good decision. Solves lots of problems. I guess I decided a couple of days ago. Hence my outfit today. I figure any time I’m out and about I need to be looking my best.”

“Did anything happen in the last couple of days? Anything happen since we last met?”

“No,” she replies flatly. “Nothing happened. Same old, same old, I guess that’s what happened.”    

“Do you plan to talk to your husband about your decision?”

“What!? Are you crazy? He’d divorce me in a minute.”

I knew she wouldn’t tell her husband. Why did I ask that question? Was I trying to make her feel guilty? Surprisingly, what Judith is contemplating does feel ‘wrong’ to me, it feels ‘wrong’ for a person in a committed relationship to decide in a calculated and apparently logical way to become involved with an unknown other person. I feel very differently if the person has an affair and wants to talk about it, understand it, and deal with the meaning it has for them. Hmm, I think. Her pronouncement felt as though she was throwing down a gauntlet. Perhaps that means her decision is about me, about our relationship. What was it we talked about in last week? Of course! She told me she read my book, the book in which I discuss both the intensely loving relationship I had with my late husband, as well as my strong emotional involvement with many of my patients.

“Judith, how did you feel about my book? I know we talked a little about it last week, but you seemed to skirt really looking at your feelings.”

“Now where are you going? I told you I thought you wrote very well and that the book was engaging.”

“But how did you feel about it? How did you feel about my relationship with my husband? About my relationship with my patients.”

She shrugs. “I guess I felt you were lucky. Here you had this shitty relationship with your father, but you found this adoring man to marry. I didn’t have that shitty a relationship with my father – not that he paid much attention to me, too focused on my mother – and I married a man who still doesn’t pay any attention to me.”

“So, perhaps you felt angry with me, that, in your words, I got lucky, while you got stuck.”

“Yeah, that’s about right.”

“So I came out ahead just as your mother came out ahead and that makes you doubly angry.”

“I hadn’t thought of that, but I guess that’s true.”

“So your ‘decision’ to have an affair is really based on your anger at both me and your mother for getting more than you, for leaving you feeling cheated.”

“You really don’t want me to have an affair, do you?”

“I think you’re saying I’m trying to keep you away from happiness, from your father.”

“That’s a bit too deep for me. I think you think having an affair is wrong.”

“I don’t necessarily think that having an affair is wrong. I think affairs have many meanings.  For you those meanings are clearly related to feelings about both your parents, that you bring into the present and into this room.”

“So you think I shouldn’t have an affair?”

“I think we should talk about it a lot more before you act.”

“I can’t promise that.”

“I understand. You don’t have to promise anything. You get to do what you do and we get to deal with it.”

“Okay. As long as that’s clear, I’ll see you next week.”   

Infidelity

Jeffery throws himself in the chair across from me looking more disheveled and distraught than his usually calm, poised presentation of a mid-forties successful financial advisor.  

“I couldn’t wait to get here. I almost called and asked if you had a double session available today or any more sessions available today at all. Do you?”

Thinking about how reluctant Jeffery has been to increase his therapy sessions to more than once a week, I say, “I’m sure I can see you later this afternoon, but first why don’t you tell me what’s going on.”

“My wife told me she wants us to have an open marriage.”

Many thoughts go through my mind, including the sarcastic, ‘so now the shoe’s on the other foot.’ Instead I say, “Her request obviously disturbed you.”

“Hardly difficult to figure that out. Can you imagine?! My wife! The prissy little woman who left me begging for sex.”

“Jeffery, what’s so disturbing about her asking for an open marriage?”

“That’s a dumb question.”

“You could look at her request as freeing you to see as many women as you wanted without having to sneak around.”

“But she could also see as many men! In fact, she already has. She told me at first she wanted to get back at me for all the women I saw on the side – even though I never admitted to seeing any other women. So she went online and started going out on dates when she knew I’d be out. And then she’d have sex with them. It almost made me throw up to hear that. And then she told me she’s come to enjoy it and wants to be able to do it openly. Ugh!”

“Jeffery, I know you might think these are dumb questions, but why is a man who never followed his marriage vows, so disturbed about his wife wanting the same freedom?”

“It’s not the same. She said she did it because she wanted to get back at me, meaning she must have been angry at me.”

“And does that give you an idea about your own motivation?”

“I wasn’t angry at my wife.”

“’A prissy little woman who left me begging for sex’ doesn’t sound not angry, but maybe it’s more than just your wife you’re angry at.”

“That theory again. I’m angry at my mother for dying and leaving me and therefore I’m angry with all women. I don’t buy it.”

“Can you think seriously for a moment why you might not buy that theory?”

“It’s just a cliché.”

That’s not a moment’s worth of thought, I think. Then I realize I’ve had several sarcastic thoughts this hour. Am I angry with Jeffery for being unfaithful? But I’m not angry with other unfaithful patients. Am I feeling Jeffery’s conscious or unconscious anger at me? Certainly a possibility. Am I angry with Jeffery for not accepting anything I offer be it a question, an interpretation or a request? Another possibility.

“Have you ever noticed Jeffery that you rarely take in anything I offer?”

“For heaven’s sake, my wife just told me she wants an open marriage and you want to talk about us.”

I think, ‘well, there’s an example,’ but I swallow that sarcastic response and say, “Perhaps there’s a connection between the two, Jeffery.”

“What!?” he says, roiling his eyes towards the ceiling.

“I wonder, Jeffery, if the reason you feel angry with women is that you’re afraid of being dependent on them, of needing them.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Again, I’m going to ask you to think about what I just said and to try and take it in.”

“It doesn’t make sense to me,” he responds immediately.

“Okay. Let me ask you something else. Do you still want that second session today?”

“What!? You’re more scattered than I am. If it’s going to be like this, no, no I don’t want it.”

“I think you’re afraid of having to rely on women – particularly your wife and me - because either you’re afraid you’ll lose us or become so dependent on us that you’ll feel the extent of your own neediness. And if you reject my idea without considering it you’ll have proven my point.”

Jeffery laughs. “I guess I can’t win.”

“It depends what you want to win,” I say very seriously. “If you want to get to the place where you can have close, meaningful relationships with women, you can definitely win.”

“And what would I need to do to make that happen?”

“I guess you could start by accepting that session later this afternoon.”

“That was a trick.”

“No, it wasn’t a trick. When you were extremely distressed you wanted to see me as much as possible, but once you were here, you had to reject your desire to rely on me by refusing the second session, just as you’ve rejected coming more than once a week.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll come in later this afternoon.”

“I’m glad.”   

Betrayal

Twenty-seven year old Carla sits crying in my office, her eyes red, shredded tissues in her lap. “I can’t believe it happened again,” she says. “I thought Martin was different – kind, sensitive. I couldn’t imagine him being unfaithful. I don’t understand why this keeps happening to me!”

And that, I think to myself, is exactly the question. Carla is tall, attractive, shapely, smart, articulate, funny and yet Martin is the third man who’s been unfaithful to her. For the moment, however, Carla needs to deal with the immediacy of her pain.

“I thought I’d surprise him,” she continues. “Bring us Thai food for lunch. I knew he’d be writing. Or I thought he’d be writing. I didn’t even register the strange car in his driveway. Until he didn’t answer the door. I rang and rang. My stomach started to get all queasy. He finally answered in a bathrobe, tried to make some feeble excuse, but I’m not stupid. I threw the food at him and ran. I wanted to key the girl’s car as I went, but I knew that would be dumb. So here I am, betrayed again. What’s wrong with me?” she asks, beseechingly. 

Odd, I muse, I had a similar experience with a man I dated 40 years ago, showing up at his door only to find him with another woman. I was both devastated and enraged. But that was a long time ago, those feelings long gone, not distracting me from my role as therapist.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, Carla. But I do think it’s important to understand why this scenario does keep repeating. What are your thoughts?”

“I don’t know!” she responds, crying. “My parents have been together for over 40 years. I’d be shocked if my father ever cheated on my mother.”

“And your mother?” I ask.

“What!?” she says, furrowing her brow. “You’re asking if my mother ever cheated on my father?” she asks, incredulously.

I nod. 

“That’s impossible. My mother was the least sexual person around.”

“Is that because she’s your mother or …?”

“My mother pulled away when my father tried to be affectionate. And sometimes I could hear them arguing. He was frustrated.”

“So why are you so sure he was never unfaithful?”

“Because he wasn’t that type.”

“Obviously, Carla, I’m not saying that your father was unfaithful. I have no idea. But I do think it’s interesting that you’re so convinced he wasn’t.”

Shaking her head, she says, “My father stressed the importance of good moral values, insisted we go to church, lectured us on being good people. He’s a wonderful man.”

I’m surprised by Carla’s naiveté. I think of the people I’ve known – both men and women - who were unfaithful to their partners. Many of them were good people.    

“Two questions. Do you think only “bad” men are unfaithful? And are there similarities between the men you’ve dated and your father?”

“Actually, Martin reminded me of my father. He even looks a bit like him.” She smiles uncomfortably. “You think I have an Oedipal thing going with my father?”

“What do you think?”

Carla looks out the window. After a pause she says, “My father put up with a lot from my mother. She’s difficult, demanding, cold, particularly to him. He dotes on me. I love him a lot so, yes, maybe I’m kind of in love with my father.”

Well, I think to myself, that opens up lots of possibilities. Does Carla choose unavailable men so that she can remain faithful to her father? Is her father more of a womanizer than she thinks and is she choosing men who are like her father? And if they’re like her father does the relationship feel incestuous so that she unconsciously does something to subvert it? If her mother is cold, is she choosing men like her mother to try to win in the present that which she lost in the past? Does she try to be not her mother and end up being too smothering and intense? Lots of questions, none of which will be answered today.

“How do you feel, Carla, about being kind of in love with your father and how does it affect your relationships?”

“I don’t know. Right now, all I know is that I’m sad. I’ve lost again.”

“As in you’ve lost Martin and lost your father again?”

“I haven’t lost my father,” Carla declares emphatically.

“Except that he’s with your mother, not you,” I respond gently.

“Oh, I get it. I don’t know. This has gotten too Freudian.”

“It’s time for us to stop for today, but you opened up lots of things today and I’m sure we’ll get back to them.” 

I Want Revenge!

Pat, an attractive woman is her early fifties, is angry, angry, angry! Her husband of over twenty years had an affair. In the midst of an ugly divorce she discovered that he had been unfaithful with many women throughout their marriage. Good reason to be angry. Except that they have now been divorced for five years and Pat is as angry today as she was the day she discovered his infidelity.

“My daughters don’t even want to talk to me anymore. When they see it’s me they just don’t pick up! They say they’re sick and tired of listening to it. Who else am I supposed to talk to? My friends are sick of me too. I don’t get it. What do they mean I should be over it already? Why should I be over it? What would make me get over it?”

“Actually that’s a good question, Pat, what would make you get over it?”

“When he drops dead! Or gets some horrible disease. Or loses all his money. But none of those things will happen. I’ll be dead before him. He could never suffer enough!”

“He could never suffer enough to what?”

“To make me happy. To get me my revenge. To make him feel the hurt that I felt.”

“Do you still feel that hurt, Pat?”

“What do you mean? Of course!”

“Well, you’re certainly still very angry, but I wonder if you do still feel the hurt I’m sure you did feel, or if you let yourself feel the hurt even five or six years ago.”

“Do you mean do I cry myself to sleep? No, I don’t cry myself to sleep anymore. I wouldn’t give the bastard the satisfaction.”

“Did you cry yourself to sleep when you first found out?”

“I don’t know. I don’t remember. Why do you keep asking me all these questions?”

“Your anger takes so, so much of your energy, Pat, so much of your focus, that I wonder if it’s partly a defense, a defense against all the pain and humiliation and powerlessness you felt. I wonder if your anger helps you to feel more powerful, but also keeps you trapped with your ex-husband forever.”

“Damn right I don’t want to feel powerless. I don’t want to feel powerless ever again in my life. That jerk humiliated me in front of everyone. I want him to pay – and I don’t mean just monetarily.

“At this point, Pat, I’d say your anger is hurting you much more than your ex-husband. It’s eating you up. And, as you said, it’s driving people away from you.”

“So what do you want me to do?”

“I can’t tell you what you should do, Pat, but I think being willing to look at some of the feelings you have underneath your anger – like hurt and powerlessness – might really be helpful to you.”

“Not until I get my revenge!”

“But you already said that you don’t think you’re going to get your revenge, so why would you doom yourself to anger and misery for the rest of your life?”

“I want him to suffer. I want him to suffer like I suffered.”

Much to my surprise, an image of my husband lying in his hospital bed shortly before he went into hospice, flashes through my mind. “Pat,” I ask, “Did you really, really love your husband?”

“Why did you ask me that?” she says less stridently.

“I don’t know. I thought if you really loved your husband, perhaps we could focus on that love and maybe that would bring us closer to your hurt, maybe that would help us to break through some of your defensive anger.”

She lowers her head and mumbles, “Yes, I really loved my husband. I thought we had a great marriage.” After a brief pause she shifts back again, “Ha! That’s a joke! The bastard was screwing around on me forever!”

“Pat, you know for a moment you allowed yourself to feel your sad, hurt, loving feelings. I know it’s hard for you to stay there, but I do think that’s where we need to go. You need to be able to move on in your life and you can’t do that while you’re tied to your ex with your anger and desire for revenge.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I want to do it.”

“Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see what develops.”