Panic

“I couldn’t wait to get here,” Ray says, almost breathless. “Pamela asked me for a divorce. She said we’ve been working on our relationship for years and it just doesn’t get any better. She wants out. She wants a chance to find greater happiness with someone else.”

“I’m sorry, Ray,” I say empathically.

“I…I’m a mess. I don’t think I’ve slept two hours since she told me. I never thought she’d leave me. I don’t know what to do. I can’t think straight. I’m like beyond panicked.”

“What’s fueling your panic?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I can certainly understand you’re feeling sad and scared and maybe even angry, but what’s underneath your panic?”

“I’ll be alone. She’ll leave and take the kids and I’ll be alone. Oh my God, I can hardly say that. I can’t breathe.”

“I’m here. You’re not alone now. Take a few deep breaths and then let’s try to look at what feels so terrifying to you about being alone.”

Ray looks at me incredulously. He buries his head in his hands and tries to slow his breathing. He bursts into tears.

I sit silently while Ray cries, hoping he has broken through some of the anxiety to feel his sadness underneath.

“Why? Why? Why did she do this?”

Ray’s shock about his wife’s decision is rather surprising to me since they have indeed been working on their relationship for years. Ray told me she had repeatedly said she was unhappy in the relationship, feeling him unable to give to her emotionally or sexually.   

“What did prompt her decision?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Maybe because we didn’t have sex?” he says questioningly.

“You’ve told me that has been one of Pamela’s consistent complaints. That you withhold from her.”

“Do you break up a 15 year relationship because of sex?”

Ray’s consistent disbelief feels incredibly naïve to me. I even wonder if it’s disingenuous. Then I have another thought.

“You feel very much like a scared, hurt child to me,” I say gently.

Crying again, Ray mumbles, “That’s exactly how I feel.”

“So perhaps that’s why you’re panicked. When a child is left he feels panicked because he can’t survive without his mother - or some caretaker.”

“So you think Pamela’s leaving me feels like my mother leaving me?”

I nod.

“But my mother never left me.”

“That’s not exactly true Ray. You’ve told me how she reacted after your father died.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Before I was seven – when my father died – we had a very close relationship. In fact, she was all over me. Sometimes I just wanted to get away from her. It was too much. But after he died, I don’t know, it was like she died too. She got so depressed and didn’t want me anywhere around. In fact she shipped me off to her sister’s for a while. It was awful. My cousins hated me. I’m sure they didn’t want another kid in the family. I had to change schools and that was awful. The whole thing was awful.” Pause. “And when I went back home, my mother still rejected me.” Pause. “And then she started dating. That was worse. All those men. And then my step-father. The whole thing was a nightmare.” Pause. “You know what just went through my mind? I wanted my Mommy back.”

Crying, Ray adds, “And that’s how I feel right now. I want my Mommy. Except it’s Pamela.”   

I remain silent, thinking this is not the time to explore the meaning behind Ray’s similar feelings about his mother and Pamela.

“I guess that helps explain my panic,” he continues. “But it doesn’t take it away,” he adds, looking at me beseechingly. “Can’t you take it away?”

“So perhaps now I’m the Mommy who you want to take away all your fears and sadness.”

“Can you?”

“That’s clearly your wish, but I’m afraid I have no magic wand.”

“No?”

“No, but we can look at your desire for that magic wand, for the all-powerful, all-perfect mother who can take away all your fears, all your sadness so that you feel nothing but perpetual bliss.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“But I wonder if it would feel wonderful or, as you said before about your early mother, whether it would feel too much and you’d want to get away.”

“I don’t know. Right now it sounds wonderful.”

“When faced with abandonment you yearn for closeness, but when there’s closeness it can feel like too much and you yearn to get away.”

“I don’t know. I can’t deal with all that now.”

“I understand. We’ll have plenty of time.”

Submission

“I can’t believe that I’m spending all my time in therapy talking about my job,” Pauline exclaims, bursting into tears. “I thought you talk about your childhood or relationships, not a dumb job!”

I’ve seen Pauline only a short time and she’s correct, she’s spent most of her time talking about her job. She’s a graphic designer, a good one it seems, but she’s been in a state of panic since the administration in her company changed, resulting in her reporting to two different supervisors.

“This week the artistic director wanted me to drop everything and work on one project, while the marketing director wanted me to work on a totally different project. What am I supposed to do?” she asks, crying. “I’m think I’m going to quit. I can’t stand the stress!”

“Pauline, I understand that you can’t possibly do two different things at the same time, but what I don’t understand is why it is so, so distressing to you.”

“But I can’t do what both of them want!”

“I understand that you can’t do what they both want,” I say. “But I don’t understand why that throws you into such a state of panic. I don’t know a lot about you, about your history, your past, so it’s hard for me to know what might be going on for you, but since your anxiety is so intense, I would suspect it does have something to do with your childhood. I’m only guessing here, but was there a lot of conflict between your parents? Did you feel you had to choose between them?”

“No, not at all. They presented a united front. There was no room for discussion. You just obeyed. You did what they said. My mother was the tough one, though.”

Pauline hesitates. I wait.

“This is hard for me to talk about. I feel like I’m betraying her. She was doing what she thought was best.”

I can feel Pauline’s anxiety. I also see the beginnings of a connection, the issues of obedience and betrayal perhaps linking the past and the present.

“You never disobeyed my mother. She wouldn’t talk to you for days, for weeks if you did. She knew that she and Dad were right and that you just had to do what they said. I couldn’t stand that silent treatment. I felt like I’d lost her. So I did what she wanted. Even about work. I was really good at math and science as a kid. I wanted to be a doctor. But my parents said no, that I’d never find a husband if I became a doctor, that I’d never have children and a life, so I couldn’t do it. I was good in art too, so I became a graphic artist. It’s okay. At least it was.”

Inside I scream, “No! No! You need to do what you want to do!” Part of this reaction is probably my experiencing Pauline’s unfelt anger and rebellion. But I know that some of the feelings are all mine. My father was an angry, explosive man who hated psychology and psychoanalysis and always opposed my career choice, responding with both anger and contempt. But as afraid as I was of him, I fought for what I wanted. My grandmother taught me that. Pauline probably didn’t have such a role model in her past. She submitted.

“You couldn’t resist your parents and pursue your dream. You had to submit.”

“Submit. Yes, that’s a good word. I’ve submitted my whole life. With my parents, with men, with work, whatever.”

“It sounds like that’s why this work situation is so difficult for you. You have two authority figures wanting different things from you. You can’t obey them both. So you feel scared just as you did as a child. Then you can’t think from the place of an adult and figure out a way to handle the situation however you need to do.”

“That’s true! I always want to please. But I can’t please two people at once.” She pauses. “So what should I do?”

I smile. “I understand that you’re very used to having people tell you what to do, but maybe that’s one of the things we can work on changing. I suspect you know a lot more about your company and the people involved than I do and that you’re the one who’s best able to figure out what to do.”