I am waiting for Fran, a 38 year old successful interior designer, to arrive for her fourth, twice a week session. My clock says 11:03. She’s a few minutes late. I’m surprised since she seems like a responsible, conscientious person who goes out of her way to be “the good girl.” Still, she could have been held up by a client, or perhaps just the traffic.
11:08. I’m running through our sessions in my mind. We seemed to have a good connection. Although a relatively anxious person, Fran talked freely, telling me about her doubts about her competency despite her obvious success, her parent’s divorce when she was five, her mother’s unrelenting criticism, and the time her mother’s third husband came on to her.
11:15. I call and get Fran’s voice mail. I leave a message saying that I hope she’s all right and asking that she please call me. I spend the rest of her session trying to read, hoping the phone will ring, and replaying our last session in my mind.
That was the session she told me about her step-father’s advance. She was an adult and presented the incident as though she was disgusted by it, but not obviously traumatized. Had I minimized the trauma? Had I not looked deeply enough at her underlying feelings? Did I give her the impression that I didn’t want to hear about it?
Or was there something else that led to her not coming today or abruptly terminating? She mentioned wanting to write a book about her experiences as an interior decorator, especially some of the clients she’d worked with over the years. I was certainly supportive of the idea. But does she know about the book I wrote? Did she feel hurt, perhaps rejected, that I didn’t acknowledge it and talk with her as a possible fellow-author? But that’s ridiculous. What if she didn’t know about my book? Bringing it up would have seemed irrelevant or even competitive.
Time for my next patient. Time to put Fran in the background. At the end of each session I check my messages. Nothing from Fran.
Finally, at 4 there’s a message that says, “I’m really sorry. I got my schedule entirely confused today. I knew I was supposed to come and then it was just gone from my mind. I’ll see you on Thursday.”
I am incredibly relieved. Perhaps I didn’t do anything wrong after all. Perhaps there was something going on with Fran that had nothing to do with me. Well, that’s probably not true either. Perhaps her not coming was related in some way to our interaction, or her feelings about me or our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I did something “wrong.”
It’s actually noteworthy that I went so easily to feeling that I’d done something “wrong.” Perhaps that reflects not only my tendency to examine and take responsibility my own feelings and behavior, but also Fran’s feeling “bad” or “wrong” herself.
“I’m really, really sorry about Tuesday,” Fran begins. “I don’t know how I managed to forget my appointment. I never do things like that. I feel awful about it.”
“Do you have any thoughts, Fran, about why you might have forgotten the session? I ask not so that you’ll blame yourself or beat yourself up, but to see if there might have been something you were trying to communicate.”
“It’s interesting that you say I shouldn’t blame myself or beat myself up. I was doing that, but I think I was doing that after our last session anyway,” Fran says, blushing.
After a few seconds she continues. “You know that incident I told you about my mother’s husband coming on to me?”
I nod.
“Well, he did. But I kind of led him on. … I feel so awful telling you this. … He was always such an asshole, not that I ever lived with him or anything. And, I don’t know, I guess it made me feel powerful to be able to manipulate him in that way. I feel like such a piece of shit.”
I now understand why feelings of “wrong” had been floating around for both myself and Fran. I also think that Fran’s “leading him on,” was a way for her to get back at mother as well as her mother’s husband, but I decide that interpretation is best left for another day. Instead I take a more supportive approach. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of Fran. What’s most important is to deal with our feelings of shame and guilt and to understand our behavior as best as we can. And that’s why you’re here.”
Marcy comes rushing into my office 15 minutes late, throws herself in my chair, and sighs with exasperation.
“I don’t get it,” proclaims my attractive, 29 year old patient, carefully attired in a grey business suit, looking like the lawyer that she is. “No matter what I tell myself I’m always late. I’m late here, to work, to meet friends! Well, you know! We’ve been through this a million times. The only thing I’m not late for is court, thank goodness. That’s all I’d need. Get my ass in contempt!”
Marcy and I have indeed discussed her problem with lateness many times. And it’s not just lateness, but all kinds of procrastination. She wrote college papers the night before they were due, never felt prepared for exams, let mail pile up in her apartment, and now often feels ill-prepared for court.
We have discussed her difficulty with separating, with pulling herself away from one activity or one person to go to another. We have explored procrastination as an expression of her anger, as in, you can’t make me be on time or write this paper or pay this bill. We have set up tasks for her to fulfill – next time you come to see me you will be able to tell me that for one day this past week you were on time for every appointment. She is never able to fulfill these agreements.
I like Marcy. She is warm, engaging, and smart. I’ve gotten used to her lateness and don’t have much feeling about it. I’m sorry that her sessions are abbreviated, but I’ve accommodated to the shorter time. Marcy leaves promptly at the designated time, never objects, never tries to extend the hour.
Marcy was the second of three daughters, her parents both busy lawyers who expected their children to be good, do well in school, and pretty much raise themselves. Marcy always had difficulty getting to school or turning in assignments on time. Her parents would talk to her, lecture her, encourage her, but basically leave her to deal with the consequences of her problem. Obviously, now an attorney, Marcy was able to do more than well enough to get by.
“My Dad was asking me again last night if I didn’t think I should try to get into a big firm, make a lot more money. But I love being a legal aid lawyer! I love being able to help people who really need my help. Besides, I’d never to be to meet all the deadlines of a big firm. My Dad doesn’t bug me about it, just brings it up from time to time.”
“Right now,” Marcy continues, “I’m trying to get this kid off. He’s kind of slow, was with a bunch of kids when they snatched a woman’s purse. I don’t think he had a clue what was going on. But I have a real hard-ass judge. I don’t know what will happen. But I’m trying my best.” Marcy pauses, knitting her brow. “I just realized that I have no problem with deadlines on this case, no problem getting to appointments, no problem filing the motions. I don’t even have to try. I just do it.”
“Do you think that’s because you like the kid, feel sorry for him, want to help him?” I ask.
“Well, I do, but I feel that way about lots of cases and that usually doesn’t help.”
A series of thoughts flash through my mind: She’s not late to court because she’s afraid of being in contempt, she has a hard-ass judge for this case, her father doesn’t bug her, I don’t have strong feelings about her lateness.
“I wonder, Marcy, if the reason you do things on time for this case is that you have a hard-ass judge.”
She looks at me quizzically.
“I wonder if you’ve always wanted someone to care enough about you to be a hard-ass, to say this behavior isn’t okay, to care that you’re not getting someplace on time, to care that you’re getting a B rather than an A because your paper’s late. It’s even true for me. Why don’t I take a tougher stand about your lateness? Why don’t I insist that you get here on time? Why don’t I feel more about your cheating yourself of a third of your session?”
“Why don’t you?” Marcy asks quietly, dropping her head.
“I think part of it is who I am as a person – I’m not authoritarian, I’m not judgmental. But I also think it’s because you’ve never passionately been cared about and you’ve never passionately cared about yourself and that although you desperately want a “hard-ass judge,” you don’t expect much from the people in your life. And that’s the dynamic we unconsciously reenact here.”
“Wow! That’s heavy! It makes sense, but I’m not sure what to do with it.”
“I’m not sure either, Marcy, but I think it’s important for us to know about and to watch in terms of the interaction between us and between you and others as well. And maybe we’ll need to revisit your childhood and look at what more you wanted from your parents.”
