Anna came home late last night. She also came home mad—so mad that I would have just as soon she’d stayed at work.

What am I saying? I love her. We’re getting married soon—though I’m no longer so sure of what soon means. What hurts is that I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t ignore her or shut her out of my life. I couldn’t imagine what the problem could be.

It took some time and patience, but I finally got it out of her. I swear, sometimes I feel like she’s one of my clients. Here’s the backstory: she had a dream the night before. In it, she caught me having an affair. When she woke up, she thought I really was.

Is that crazy or what? What was I to do? I tried to reassure her. I reasoned with her. I, of course, denied it. I felt so damned helpless.

How do you argue against a dream?

I tried to reassure her. I reasoned with her—of course. But I felt helpless.. She shut me out completely. I came up behind her and tried to put my arm around her. She knocked it away with a violence that shocked me. Now I’m almost scared of her.

Who is this woman? The person I chose to be my wife now seems like a stranger. I’m feeling alone and more than a little scared. I’ve thought of her as my rock—my foundation. If I’m going to deal with other people’s problems all day, I need to come home to some sense of stability.

At least things are finally on the right track with Linda. I think the session with her will help me get my bearings once again.

***

Linda came in looking out of sorts. I could tell that there was something on her mind. In an ominous tone, she finally said, “There’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

Thinking about our recent sessions, I felt my gut clench. Instead of responding, I waited for her to continue.

It seemed like forever before she finally said, “I told my husband about our session.”

My mind was suddenly off to the races. She didn’t say which session. I remembered all too well every detail of our previous meetings. I had been so relieved to have put it behind us—or so I thought. I brought my hand to my mouth to hide my grimace.

Was she pausing for effect, or was she ashamed to continue? My heart was pounding as I asked, “What did you tell him?”

She looked at the bare wall. Was that a tremor near her eyes? Nothing, then…”I just told him what we talked about. He went ballistic. I begged him not to, but I’m afraid he might come by here today.”

Before I had time to think, there was a knock on the door— so loud it seemed to shake the room. My hand shook as I reluctantly got up and reached to turn the door knob

A large, red-faced man walked right in brushing by me in the process. He was wearing a tie and dress slacks. His shirt sleeves were rolled up.

Outwardly calm—miraculously—I offered my hand. “Hello, my name is Bill. He forcefully brushed my hand aside.

“How about we take a seat?” My voice was unsteady. Did he notice?

He continued to stand. His breathing was rapid. An artery in his neck was pulsing visibly. Before crossing his arms, he cracked his knuckles creating a rapid series of pops.

I sat back down, even as he remained standing. The tension was smothering. I was in charge and had to gain control. “There’s obviously something on your mind.”

He clenched and unclenched his fists. Linda scooted away.

It sounded like a growl, but I was able to make out his words. “How dare you tell my wife to leave me! “He leaned into my personal space—close enough to kiss, but an unlikely intention.

I maintained a neutral position and even tone, though my body was in full flight mode. “I can’t blame you for feeling upset if you thought I was telling Linda to leave you.”

“You’re damn straight.” He spoke with so much force that the room seemed to shake

The room was still and quiet. The atmosphere was anything but.

I finally looked at Linda and asked, “Any idea what might have made him think that?”

It took her a minute before she unfolded herself and sat up straight. “Rick, I don’t think that’s what he meant.”

His eyes unlocked from mine as he looked around the room, finally settling on his wife. He almost stumbled as he finally took a seat, saying, “I’m confused.”

She leaned toward him. “You wouldn’t be confused if you ever listened.”

He raised his voice in response. “I listen all the time. I have to because you talk all the time.”

She sat back with a tear in her eye. “I keep talking, hoping that eventually you’ll listen.”

He shook his head. “Oh, that again. I get so tired of hearing it. If something is bothering you, tell me. Then I can take care of it. I might as well come right out and say it. Sometimes you just seem to be talking for the sake of talking.”

She opened her arms. “Could it be that I’m trying to connect with you? I don’t see you all day, and I miss you.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Then, “I came in here today because I thought he was telling you to leave me. Did he say that or not?”

When she didn’t answer, he asked again, “Did he say it or not?”

Her words were halting. “Well… not exactly.”

He leaned forward again. “What do you mean, not exactly?”

“Okay,” she finally said. “He didn’t say those exact words.”

“Then what did he say?

Her face turned crimson. “I don’t really remember. I think I was doing most of the talking.”

“He either told you to leave me or he didn’t.”

She stood up and yelled. “He didn’t say it! I did. Okay?. You do the things you enjoy and leave me all alone. I don’t like it. If you want to know the truth, that’s what I told him.”

He stopped for a moment before rejoining the argument. “The reason I don’t do things with you is simple. You’re no fun.”

At that, she began crying.

He looked at me, but I said nothing. He then scooted his chair back and covered his face with his hands. “I had no idea you felt that way. I try to listen and be a good husband. What am I missing?”

Between sobs, she said. “Rick, I know you try. We both do.” She started to regather herself. “But I want to say this one time, very clearly. You might listen, but you don’t hear.”

I was accustomed to dealing with marital tension. Since I was no longer the target, I was able to start breathing again. I straightened and said, “It sounds like a worthwhile topic. Just not for here… now. Let’s address the reason Rick felt he needed to come.”

He started to say something, but I held up my hand. “Rick, I just want to make sure that you got the message. I didn’t tell her to leave you. It’s not something I would do.”

He looked away as his words stumbled out. “Yeah, I guess so.” He then shook his head, still not looking me in he eye. “To be honest, I’m just not really comfortable with her coming to talk with you.”

I nodded. “I hear you. That’s a different topic that you and Linda can discuss. And if you do decide you want to work on communication issues, I can suggest someone you could talk with.”

With head bowed, he walked out the door. Linda trailed behind.

I was wet with sweat and had another client waiting. I’m going to have to think about raising my rate—hazard pay and all that. I still haven’t forgotten my dream of driving a delivery truck.

Linda’s Journal

April 14

Rick really surprised me by interrupting our session. Okay, so maybe I did bait him a little. But how was I to know that, for once, he was listening. The main thing is that he showed that he cares.

For a little while, it felt like I had two men fighting over me. It’s a little high schoolish, but I’ll have to admit that I got off on it. In my defense, I’ve been so starved for love and affection that I’ve felt like wearing a sign, begging for someone to care.

When Rick came home after work, I had prepared his favorite dinner. He was even on time for once. He was a little testy about what had happened, but he got over it. I let him know how much it meant to me that he was willing to defend our marriage.

After dinner, I put on the negligee again. I overcame my fears of rejection and kissed him the way he used to like. Then I told him what a stud he was.

Would you believe it? We made love. It was a little awkward. It had been so long, and we weren’t sure of each other. It sure felt good though. Wouldn’t it be great if some of the barriers could come down so we could have a real relationship? I do love the big lug.

Rick’s Journal

April 18

What a week it’s been. I had no idea that I was so emotionally shut down. I’ve been having feelings that I had forgotten even existed. The first was anger. I’ll have to admit that it felt good to confront the shrink. It made me feel like a man again.

Then I realized the culprit was actually Linda. At first, I was really pissed at her. Then I realized that she had wanted to tell me something but hadn’t known how to say it. I regret that things had deteriorated to the point where she felt she couldn’t talk to me about how she feels.

On second thought, she tells me all the time how she feels. The thing is that it’s usually just complaints about things I can’t fix. I guess it’s my fault just as much as hers. We just don’t talk about the things that matter. In my defense, I’ve been reluctant because I’ve been scared she’ll hit me below the belt.

She knows how sensitive I am about money. I do what I can, but I don’t have the same kind of income that some of her friends’ husbands do. She’s all the time making comments about wanting to have a baby or take a trip, or buy a new car. Doesn’t she know how much that hurts me? It makes me feel like a total failure.

There is some good news, though. After the confrontation, I reached for her. This time she didn’t resist. I felt incredibly powerful. It’s a sense I haven’t had in years. The sex exceeded my every fantasy. I felt like I had been letting her down. Tonight I felt like a real husband.  

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To my relief, Anna has been coming home later and later. It feels strange to say that, but it’s the truth. That last session with Linda left me shaken—and I don’t mean a little. I’ve been thinking about her more than I should. Maybe I’m not cut out for this business.

I hate thinking that way. It’s just that I’ve never been in this position. Could I have had something to do with the way Linda acted? Damn it! I no longer have a supervisor. I’m flying this plane solo, and there is no safe landing place in sight.

Maybe it’s not so much what I’ve done as what I haven’t done. I’ve got to stop with the rationalizations. I know my mistake. I allowed myself to fantasize about her. Still, I’m human. I don’t want to be totally objective about her. I couldn’t do my job if I didn’t care.

It doesn’t help that Anna is gone all the time. Our earlier intimacy has become a distant memory. I wonder what’s going on with the wedding plans.

***

I got to the office a little early which gave me time to reflect. I soon regretted it. A familiar, sour heat began creeping up the back of my throat. I pressed my hand to my sternum, trying to massage away the sudden, cramping pain.

I had read about therapists feeling attracted to clients, but studying about it was abstract—kind of like reading about a war in the newspaper. It doesn’t compare to being in a gun battle. And last time, I felt like I spent all session ducking for cover.

Having no idea just which Linda would come through the door, I straightened my spine and welcomed her. She entered slowly, eyes straight ahead. Before even sitting down, she started. “Bill, I’m so sorry. Last time—that wasn’t like me.”

I felt a wave of tension as it flowed right out. I was wise enough to keep a little—just in case. “This office is a special place. It’s okay to express yourself here in a way you wouldn’t do elsewhere.” I then slumped back. What did I just tell her?

Fortunately, she was no longer in that head space. Was I?

“Well, it’s not okay with me. That wasn’t like me. Maybe you didn’t notice, but I was coming on to you. And even the idea of trying to hit on you repulses me.”

I gulped. “What does it say to you that it happened here?”

Her mouth twisted. “Yeah, I kind of thought about that. I know it’s because you’re safe. But that’s still no excuse.”

I smiled. “You’re right. Better here than in a bar with strangers.”

She sighed. “Okay, you’ve got a point. The thing is, Bill, I’m 28 years old and just realized that I haven’t yet figured out who I am.”

She paused as she looked to the side. “I took a chance with you. I’m not used to doing that. I guess I might as well come out and ask something that’s been on my mind.” She paused and looked directly at me with a faint and inconsistent smile. Her voice softened as she slowly ran her thumb over her purse. “How do you feel about me?”

Yes, indeed. I had relaxed too quickly. “Linda. I respect you too much to give you a safe answer. Instead, I’ll ask you the question I’m asking myself. What is the answer that would best serve you?”

Her eyes widened and then narrowed. “You’re saying that you like me. Then you’re giving me some therapy bull. That question I asked...it wasn’t easy for me.”

I shook my head, my stomach dropping out beneath me as if the chair had suddenly vanished. “Anything but. I was giving you the most honest response I can under these circumstances.”

She leaned forward. “Oh, I get it.” Her smile broadened. “You can’t talk about that sort of thing here in your office.”

I frowned as I shook my head again. “Linda, what is it you’re trying to say?”

She returned my frown as she mirrored my head shake. “I want to talk about us. I’ve felt some special feelings here with you.”

This time, I nodded in encouragement, gripping the pen until the plastic dug painfully into my index finger. “Why do you think that is?”

Her facial muscles tightened as she diverted her eyes. “Your questions sometimes confuse me. Why do you keep asking about things that don’t seem to matter?”

I perked up. “What sort of things?”

Her eyes wandered the small room. “I don’t know. Stuff like what I’m doing with my life…how I feel about my family.”

I couldn’t stop a chuckle. “Makes sense. Those things are trivial.”

Her fingers whitened as she grabbed the purse strap.

I tensed. I needed to do something, but what? “Linda, my sense of humor sometimes gets out of whack. Please know that I take you seriously, and I do care about you.”

A smile began to appear as she leaned back. “Then I was right. You do have feelings for me.”

“Sure, I like you and want you to have the best possible life. But it doesn’t affect my work with you.”

She leaned forward again as her eyes opened wide. “You still haven’t told me. Was I right? Is there an ‘us?’ I mean after we finish with all this?”

My nose started itching—really itching. Not a good time to scratch it. Out of nowhere, it came to me. “ What you just said—’all this’ is perfect. It gives us walls to work within.”

Once again, her purse dropped on the floor with a thud. My shoulders jerked, and my heart skipped a beat.

Then, she seemed to soften. “I guess I see your point. I do need to work on other things.”

Miraculously, the pain in my stomach disappeared. “Everyone has issues in their lives. I think that’s a worthwhile shift.”

She looked around the room, finding nothing for her eyes to land on. “Then, I guess we need to talk about Rick. He’s at the center of it all.” She pursed her lips. “I have to almost laugh at myself for calling him the center. He’s hardly even in the picture.”

I sat back. “I take it he’s supposed to be part of the picture-perfect life you had planned?”

She looked down, folding her arms together. “Bill, I hate to say it, but you’re disappointing me just about as much as he is.”

My heart skipped a beat. Maybe not so easy after all. I wondered if FedEx has any openings.

Luckily, no response was needed. She sat forward abruptly. “Do men just not understand women? You just want us to take care of you and make you happy. Otherwise, we’re supposed to be like furniture.”

“That’s been building for some time I take it.”

She looked at me through squinted eyes. “What do you think?”

“I think your anger is spilling out on me.”

She clutched her purse. “You wouldn’t understand. I wish I had called a woman therapist.”

Forcing my breathing to stay even, I sat there. I didn’t even scratch my nose, though God help me, I wanted to.

Eventually, she said, “Maybe that wasn’t fair. I guess I’m pretty upset with you. For some reason, you insist on talking about things that frustrate me. I can’t do anything about Rick. He’s just the way he is.”

“What does that mean—the way he is?”

“I hate to come out and say this, but he’s been a real disappointment.”

“That’s quite a statement.”

The rigid line of her shoulders sank. She set her purse beside her with a heavy exhale. “Okay, I’m not being totally fair. It’s just that he’s moved on, leaving me behind. He’s not a bad husband in the sense that he provides. He doesn’t treat me badly.” She paused momentarily. “Unless you consider ignoring me as treating me badly.”

“You have mixed feelings. It makes sense.”

She sat up, speaking more rapidly. “Maybe it makes sense to you. It doesn’t to me. I’ve tried hard to be a good wife. I’ve created a comfortable, pleasant home, but he doesn’t want to spend any time there. He’s either working, playing golf with his friends, or watching football.”

“How was he supposed to fit into your plan?”

Once more, her eyes wandered the room. She crossed her legs and pursed her lips. “I don’t know exactly. I just know he isn’t what I wanted him to be.”

“Past tense?”

She looked up quickly. “I hadn’t really thought of it like that. Have I given up on our relationship?”

I wondered if it would help if I sneezed. I wanted to take a sandblaster to my nose.

She said, “It hurts to even think that. I’ve been doing all the things I know to do.”

“You’ve been following a script.”

She picked up her purse again. “I don’t like what you just said.”

I stayed silent.

“You’re putting it back on me, aren’t you?”

I sat with her quietly, hoping my stomach would do the same.

She sat back. “I guess there’s more to it than having a neat house and dinner ready.”

“Are you talking about for him or for you?”

She sat quietly with her head down, eyes focused on her purse.

“Linda, what are you feeling?”

A blotchy, crimson flush crept up her neck, coloring her cheeks. “I’m just plain mad! I feel so cheated. I bought into this fantasy of what a great life we were going to share. Then he goes off and has his own great life leaving me behind.”

“I’m guessing it hasn’t always been that way.”

She looked out the window and said, “I’m really not even sure anymore. Was any of it ever for real? He’s such a con man.”

“Is that what you really think?”

“Yeah, the only real feelings he has are for himself. And I’m not even sure those are real.”

She suddenly stood.

I dropped my pen. “Linda, what are you doing?”

Without looking at me, she retrieved her purse and started to rise. “I’m just wasting my time here. You’re not going to help. You’re just another Rick.”

I picked up my pen from the floor. It was right next to her leg. I looked up quickly. “Well, you won’t know unless you stick around to find out.”

She turned to look at me. “Find out what?”

“What are you looking for?”

She stopped halfway to the door. Slowly, ever so slowly, she returned to her seat.

I said, “This hits close to home.”

Her nostrils flared. “Of course it does. We’re talking about my home! It feels empty, just like me.”

“You feel like he’s let you down.”

Her eyes narrowed to tight slits. “Of course.”

“In what way?”

She snorted. “Isn’t it obvious?”

I didn’t say anything.

Finally, she clutched the arms of her chair and said, “Okay, I’ll admit it. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

I furrowed my brow. “Linda, I’m not looking for anything.”

“You’re going to say it, so I might as well come out with it. I blame him for how I feel.”

“You assume I’m going to blame you for thinking that?”

She snorted. “Of course, you are. Blame the woman. Isn’t that always the way?”

“Who exactly is blaming you?”

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. “Okay, okay. I’m blaming myself for blaming him. You happy?”

“Linda, it’s not about me.”

She laughed almost inaudibly. “That was silly. I hate to admit it, but I feel pretty stupid.”

I leaned toward her as I uncrossed my legs. “Stupid how?”

“You’re going to drag it out of me, aren’t you? Okay, I’m blaming him for my unhappiness instead of taking responsibility.”

“That’s not exactly what I’m hearing.”

She nodded slowly as she leaned back. “Yeah, I guess I am taking responsibility. It isn’t easy, and it isn’t necessarily fun. It’s like when I had to own the way I viewed my father’s criticism.”

“Do you also have a choice in how you view our process?”

She looked past me for a few seconds. “Well, I do kind of like talking with you… most of the time.”

I laughed. “I never promised you a rose garden.”

She joined my laughter. “Well, you do bring along a little rain sometimes.”

Linda’s Journal

April 7

I never would have believed it. I was still totally obsessed with Bill when I went to see him. Yet somehow, after just a few minutes, I forgot all about him. Instead, I got involved with my feelings for Rick. It felt so good to be in a situation where I could unload all my resentment.

I had no idea that I blamed Rick so much for what’s wrong with my life. Believe me, there are plenty of women who would be more than happy to steal him if they could. I think I’ve narrowed it down to a couple of things that are wrong between us. I just don’t think that there’s any way to fix them.

He doesn’t really control me overtly, but he’s been pretty effective in getting me to do whatever it is he wants. I really wanted to go to graduate school, but I gave it up because he complained about the cost. I finally decided that it just wasn’t worth it. He criticizes everything I try to do. He wants me staying at home so that I can take care of him, and I guess that’s what I’ve let my life become.

That wouldn’t be so terrible by itself. What really bugs me, though, is that he doesn’t pay any attention to me. I might as well be his maidservant. And, heaven forbid if I ever show any type of feelings. He wants everything in his home life safe and predictable. God, what a boring life I’ve bought into just to try to keep him happy.

I wonder if Bill has any ideas about how I could change things. I feel like I’ve already tried everything under the sun. I’m sick of reading advice columns that provide nothing more than glib, useless solutions. Oh well, I’m going to do my best to keep an open mind.

Rick’s Journal

April 9

I feel like I’m about to blow. The damn trial is dragging out with continuances. I could shoot myself for ever taking the case. I keep taking on more clients than I can handle. I feel like I need to do something to get a grip on things.

But that’s not what I’m really upset about. I keep asking Linda to tell me about her expensive chats with the wimp. I certainly have a right to know what goes on. After all, I’m the one footing the bill. She’s been stonewalling me until this week.

When I asked, I expected the usual lame excuse, like saying that it’s personal. This time she decided to let me have it. She said that the shrink is telling her that I don’t give her enough attention. Where does he think he gets off? And that wasn’t even the worst of it. He told her he likes her, even if I don’t. Sounds like he’s trying to get her to divorce me!

Ever since we talked, I’ve had this image of her in bed with the guy. It doesn’t make sense. He wouldn’t say those things unless he wanted her for himself. I’m not in the best of shape, but I’m not afraid of some psychologist. I’m going to surprise them and find out just what’s been going on behind my back.

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Anna came home right on time—unusual enough that I noticed. We were barely past the routine “how was your day” before she asked about my “attractive client.”

I was ready for it and, if I do say so myself, did an excellent job. I responded with a nonchalant, “Fine,” the session already settled in my mind.

Was that the end of it? Yes. My appetite returned, and I relaxed. Just before dessert, she asked, “How is she doing?”

I suppressed a belch as I squeaked, “Who, my client? Oh, my client? Fine.”

“You like her, don’t you.”

I shook my head as I said the obvious. “I like all my clients.”

Her eyebrows raised, and her forehead crinkled. “I think something’s up with you.”

I squeezed my fists under the table. What did she know? I asked, “What are you talking about?”

Her chair made an annoying sound as she scooted back from the table. “This is the day you see her, isn’t it? You saw her today. I can tell. You always seem different on Tuesdays.”

I pushed back as well. “I don’t know what you mean. Like with all my clients, I leave them behind when I shut the office door.”

I finally broke the uncomfortable silence that followed. “Anna, I just don’t get it. Don’t you trust me?”

She stood. “It’s not so much you. But you’re a man. You’re alone in an office talking to an attractive woman. I’m no fool.”

I laughed nervously. Her suspicions were so obviously off the wall that I didn’t know what to say.

She leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table. “Why won’t you tell me about her?”

Without thinking, I blurted, “You know what they say about what happens in Vegas.” I swallowed hard as I suppressed an urge to smack myself in the head.

She wasted no time in responding. “You admit it? There really is some hanky-panky? I’m surprised. Not so much about you. I just thought your ‘attractive client’ would have more sense.”

I glanced at my watch. Still two hours till bedtime. “Let’s watch a movie.”

She sat back down. “I’m not doing anything until you tell me the whole story. Are you sexually attracted to her?”

“Anna, you’re being ridiculous. You know I don’t allow such thoughts about a client. It would be a betrayal of trust.”

Instead of listening to reason, she picked up her plate like she was going to hurl it in the sink.

For a supposed expert in human behavior, I sure have a lot to learn about women. Maybe I don’t have things down quite as much as I thought.

At least Linda was sane. I was looking forward to getting things back on track with her. Still, I couldn’t escape a sense that something was building. Anna couldn’t have been right. There’s no way. The very thought terrified me. I quickly dismissed it.

***

For some reason, Linda lingered for an instant in the doorway. Before I could help myself, I stole a second look. The thin material of her top left little to the imagination. What was I doing? A fantasy I had while trying to get to sleep last night returned unwelcomed.

I grabbed my notepad and stared at it intently. “How has your week been?”

Rather than answering, she responded with a question of her own. “You know, I’ve met with you several times now, and I don’t even know what to call you. Should I call you Dr. Johnson or just Bill?”

I looked away briefly. I simply said, “Bill is fine.”

She smiled as she sat back. “Glad to hear it. I feel like I’m really getting to know you. It’s nice to be able to talk to someone who really listens.”

She then lowered her voice slightly. “I’ve got something a little embarrassing to tell you. I had a dream about you last night.”

I didn’t respond immediately, at least not in a way she could see.

She leaned forward. “Do you want to hear about it?”

I spoke quickly. “We talked earlier about your lifestyle and how it meshes with your earlier achievement drive. Have you given that subject any further thought?”

She looked at the bare walls of the office. She looked down at the floor and then back up into my eyes. “Not really. It doesn’t seem like a big deal anymore.”

My forehead creased. My sweat glands opened. “Linda, something seems off. Is there something else going on with you? It seemed like an important topic earlier.”

A slight grin crossed her lips. Even though the session had just started, I found myself stealing a glance at the clock.

She said, “Well… there’s something else that’s been on my mind.”

“Care to share?”

She spoke hesitantly as she looked at the floor. “I’ve been thinking about you and me. I’ve really enjoyed talking with you.”

“Same here. I think we’ve had some productive sessions.”

She frowned with eyes downcast. This time her speech was direct and certain. “You don’t care about me or how I feel.”

I squirmed. The hands on the old clock had barely moved, as if time itself had refused to move forward. “C’mon Linda. You know better than that.”

She pursed her lips as she looked up at me. “You don’t want to hear about what’s important to me.”

I looked down at my notes. “Isn’t that what we have been doing?”

She crossed her legs again and began fiddling with her watch. “I guess so. I just haven’t given it much thought lately. I’ve had other things on my mind.”

I almost sighed in relief. We would finally have a real problem to discuss…something I could get my hands on. “What’s bothering you?”

She leaned forward. “You know what it is.”

I shrank further back in my chair. Please God, tell me she has an ordinary problem. “Did your family say something hurtful?”

She leaned toward me to the point where we were almost touching.

She looked into my eyes. “I want to talk about you…us.”

The hands on the clock were definitely frozen. It will be awkward, but I’ll just have to sneak looks at my watch. Was the office shrinking or was it just my imagination? Could Anna possibly have been right?

I broke eye contact with her. “Linda, I’m feeling uncomfortable with where we seem to be headed.”

She sat up, somehow looking larger than before. “So, the great doctor does have feelings. Why don’t you tell me about them?”

As I thought about it, a simple truth came to mind. A psychologist without a clock is like a carpenter without a hammer. Reluctantly, I forced my thoughts to the situation at hand. “Let’s not get off topic. We only have a little time left.”

She sat there looking at me, saying nothing very loudly. Then, she bent over to get something from her purse. I followed her movement with my eyes before suddenly jerking my head back up.

The only sound came from my pounding heart. The room became uncomfortably warm. I covered my mouth with my hand as I quickly licked away a bead of sweat from my upper lip.

I had taken for granted the lady-like way she kept her knees glued together… until they weren’t. She made a faint sound.

I was so upset about the broken clock that I couldn’t take it any longer. I abruptly said, “I’m going to the bathroom.” While there, I looked at my watch. Still almost a half hour to go. I had to see this through. I returned and sat as quietly as possible. I reflexively glanced at the clock. How could that be? I couldn’t tell if time had moved forward or backward.

She paused before saying, “Bill, as we’ve been talking, I’ve been feeling closer and closer to you. I think you’ve felt the same. It’s time we face it.”

I gulped audibly. Almost too quickly, I said, “It’s easy for feelings to get confused in a setting like this.”

I could see crimson creeping up her face. “I don’t think I’m confused at all. Maybe you’re a little confused?”

Ew, that hurt. I looked at the door. It was still closed. The clock had only advanced three minutes. I had aged 30 years. I forced myself to look right at her, hating how attractive she was.

“You’re right. I am feeling a bit confused. It would help if we could get back on topic.”

She smiled. “We are on topic. As a matter of fact, I get the feeling you’re just about right on top of the topic.”

I pushed away an intrusive image. I held steady, if just by my fingernails. “Linda, our relationship is real, but it’s temporary. We’re here for a purpose.”

She was breathing heavily. I had no idea what it portended. She said, “I would like to spend time getting to know you. Maybe we could meet outside the office for a cup of coffee.”

I felt my fingernails press into the flesh of my hands. “Linda, our relationship is structured this way for a reason.”

She stood, eyes flaring. “You led me on! You talked to me like we were close. I thought there was something more to us than doctor-patient.”

Had I done that? Too late now. “You’re feeling betrayed. You trusted me.”

Her head moved from side to side. She was half in and half out of her chair. Muscles tensed. Her tone changed as she slowly sat back. “How could you do me like this? I did trust you.” A tear appeared.

I squinched my eyes but forced them to stay open as I witnessed her pain. I didn’t speak.

She stood suddenly, yelling, “You bastard!” She quickly closed the gap between us, raising her arm.

I instinctively grabbed her wrist before she could act. And there was—electricity, pure, simple, alive.

We both knew it. We were both horrified. I dropped her wrist as she returned to her seat.

She looked down. “I’m sorry. I let myself get carried away.”

“I hear you, Linda. We both got a little carried away.”

She looked up, eyes wide open. “Really? You do have feelings for me?”

I squeezed my thigh until it hurt. “Of course I do…within strict limits. Those limits are independent of you.”

“Could you make an exception—just once? I wouldn’t tell anyone. I think it could be very helpful for me.”

Needless to say, my stomach piped in. I was sort of grateful. It broke the mood.

As she got up, she reached for my leg and squeezed. The sensation shot up my leg. She then turned around and said, “See you next week.”

Linda’s Journal

March 31

I wonder if Bill is anywhere near as confused as I am. I’ve always liked a man who challenged me. And he does. I’ll have to admit, I’m having fun. He no longer seems so calm and self-satisfied. I was feeling a little shaky for a bit, but I’ve got my feet back under me again.

A friend asked me about our sessions. Surprisingly, I found myself at a loss for words. That’s not like me. I started to say a few pleasantries, but it wouldn’t have done Bill justice. I’m not saying I’m totally happy with him. The truth is, he sometimes infuriates me. I’m entirely direct and honest with him, but I never know what I’m going to get in return.

After I got so mad at him, I had to do some self-reflection. Maybe it’s not just him that I’m mad at. I started thinking about how my life had taken a course that wasn’t entirely of my choosing. That led me to memories of how my parents had shaped my actions by praise and criticism. It was the criticism that really got to me. I don’t know if I can ever totally forgive them for that.

Rick is learning to be more careful with me. I have mixed feelings about it. When he complained about dinner last night, I started to jump down his throat. Then I stopped. I realized that maybe he isn’t that happy either. It isn’t asking a lot of me to make his home life pleasant.

Then my thoughts return to Bill. I can’t imagine why he’s absorbing so much of my mental energy. There’s nothing special about him, but—okay, I’ll admit it—he fascinates me. There’s just something about him I can’t put my finger on. One thing’s for sure. He’s much stronger than I had ever thought.

I’ve decided that I’m doing all the work in the sessions. I need to let him show himself. Only then will I know who he really is. He is holding all the cards. I want to find out about his problems so we can talk on an even basis. I just used the wrong approach before.

I almost have to force my thoughts back to Rick. I’m so frustrated with him. I showed him my sexy new negligee. He yawned! What’s a girl supposed to do? I’m feeling hot and free, but I’m married to a eunuch. I do think Bill notices, though. It helps, but I’m even more frustrated with him than I with Rick.

When it comes right down to it, I don’t want to have an affair. I know that a lot of that is simply my conditioning. I’m starting to realize that it’s me as well. I’ve developed my own set of values. Sure, others played a part. That doesn’t mean that they forced them on me. It’s a confusing issue. Just who am I?

Rick’s Journal

April 3

This week has really been rough. I’ve been working 12 hours a day preparing for trial on a case that’s a real dog. I can’t believe I took it on contingency. The insurance company must know something that I don’t. I may never see a penny from it.

I hate the treadmill of work, but I can live with it as long as I’m making a living. This time I’m not only unlikely to make money, I could very well end up being embarrassed as well. I’m not really all that sure about my client. I would be willing to bet they’ve had private investigators watching him around the clock.

To top it all off, I’ve been coming home to find Linda acting like a sex kitten. What the hell has gotten into her? I just hope that the question is what rather than who. I don’t like to be suspicious, but there is no doubt she is acting strangely. She hasn’t even complained about how late I’ve been working.

I had forgotten how much she could turn me on. I drag myself home dead tired, but I feel energized when I see her. When this trial is over, I think I’ll take her out on an old-fashioned date and see where that leads.

:Author’s Note Please visit www.drnealritter.com to for links to additional chapters. Viewing will continue to be free, but I request that you subscribe to be notified as chapters become available.

I came home from a busy day only to be met with questions about my “attractive client.” Why can’t Anna let go of it? How long am I going to have to pay for an innocent slip?

Sure, Linda’s attractive. Anyone with eyes would say the same. And, of course, I like her. But, for God’s sake, she’s a client! A suggestion of anything further is so preposterous it makes me laugh. Trust is critical in a relationship. I don’t know what’s wrong with her.

To my surprise, Anna was at home when I arrived. I know that junior associates at a law firm have to work crazy hours, but she’s been dragging home well past dinner time. When I’ve tried to have normal conversations with her, all I’ve gotten is some version of how swamped she’s been at work. I’ve learned not to press. Doing so inevitably leads to a question or a comment about my “attractive client.”

With some reservations, I asked how the wedding preparations were going. I expected a flood of words. Instead, she brushed me off, saying she’s been too busy to think about it. What a change! Just a week or two ago, it’s all she wanted to talk about. She obviously has too much on her plate. I guess I’ll have to let her deal with things in her own time.

***

As I was preparing to see Linda, an idle thought crossed my mind. I was pretty inexperienced with women. Before meeting Anna, I hardly even dated. I’m a bit on the shy side and have never been much of a lady’s man. Where in the world did that thought come from?

Linda was a couple of minutes late, and my mind had time to wander. If I’m going to be totally honest with myself, it does seem a bit different working with her. It’s not just the way she looks. There’s something about her, some connection I can’t put my finger on. I banished the thought before it could develop any further. That was one road I wasn’t about to go down.

As Linda entered, I couldn’t help noticing her graceful way of moving. Further distracting me, I caught a whiff of perfume—a little stronger than our first meeting.

I felt confident in my self-discipline. Such wandering thoughts weren’t going to affect my work with her. I began, “How’ve you been since we last talked?”

My question had been intended to provide a safe way to get things started. I had expected a standard, unrevealing response. What I got was anything but. To my dismay, she looked me straight in the eye, saying, “I’m fine now. You helped me see what the problem was, and that allowed me to deal with it. “

The finality of her statement knocked me off balance. I started to speak, but the words weren’t coming. I finally said, “But you did come back for the session.”

She grinned as she looked at me. “I’ve gotten so much out of talking with you. I never even thought about canceling.”

She slowly crossed her long legs, but it barely registered as I forced myself to maintain eye contact.

My heart rate picked up. I felt dampness under my arms. There was something going on here that I wasn’t prepared for. I kept my focus on her eyes as I said, “The last time we met, we did an exercise that was pretty intense. Have you thought about it through the week?”

“Why, of course. Like everything else you’ve suggested; it was helpful. I didn’t let myself be bothered by things my family said. Now I know that I’m okay with or without their approval. It was very freeing.”

A lawn mower started outside my window. Like it or not, the worker stuck to his weekly schedule. My gaze shifted toward the sound. Hers stayed on me.

With some reluctance, I looked back in her direction. “Right now, you present like all your problems are behind you. You seem so together. Is this the face you usually show to the world?”

“Well, sure.” She held my gaze a little longer than usual.

I held my pen a little tighter, determined not to be derailed by this unexpected turn. “We’ve been dealing with some major issues. Have you given them any more thought?”

With a brief laugh and a wave of her hand, she said, “I’ve got to say, you’re really good at what you do. I was surprised that some of those old things were still affecting me. Thank you for helping me deal with them.”

I felt the onset of a headache. This wasn’t making sense. Still, I remembered that I knew what I was doing. It was just a turn I hadn’t anticipated. “Linda, I’m concerned that we were moving too fast. I would like to go back to where we were last time we met.”

Another wave of the hand. She then said, “If you want. After all, this is your time.” She followed that odd remark with a giggle. She then wiped the grin from her face. “There’s really no need. I’m fine.”

I took a breath. I was grasping at straws—in desperate need of something therapeutic to say. When nothing came to mind, I finally said, “I’m curious. You’re usually so well put together. Why didn’t you bother to do your hair today?”

Her eyes flashed for just an instant before she sat back, looking calm and composed. “Good one, Bill. You’re not going to catch me that easily. Like I told you, I’m through with all those irrational thoughts. I don’t need your opinion or anyone else’s to know that I’m okay.”

In a tone that was unserious, I said, “Well, I’m glad I was able to fix you.”

She smiled broadly, drawing my eyes to her red lips. “You definitely did.” She then paused momentarily. “I’m not saying that everything’s perfect. I did have a problem. You helped me see it so I could deal with it.”

“This sudden change. It concerns me. It somehow doesn’t seem quite real.”

She laughed lightly. “Poor Bill. He’s uncomfortable. What can I do to help?”

The mower passed right by the window. I had to almost yell my question. “What’s really going on right now, Linda? You’ve moved to a totally different place, and I’m having trouble finding you.”

She abruptly broke eye contact and asked in a very different tone, “Why is it that you never ask typical shrink questions about things like my dreams and my sex life?”

I shifted my weight in a wasted attempt to become comfortable. “Linda, something about the way you are today doesn’t fit.”

She looked away and said much more softly, “I just don’t understand why you don’t ask typical shrink questions.”

I started to get up to look for an aspirin but forced myself to stick it out. “I’m feeling lost. You and I seem to be going different directions. Where’s the Linda I’ve been working with? And what’s the deal with shrink questions?”

“Well, I didn’t mention this before, but I did see a psychiatrist a few years ago. We spent many sessions talking about my dreams and sex life, so I thought that was what we were supposed to do.”

“Linda, I feel like you’re playing with me—and maybe with yourself.”

She brushed her hair back as her lips parted. “Last time you helped me get in touch with some feelings I’d forgotten about. I like feeling that way—uninhibited, free. Let’s talk about that.”

My forehead furrowed as I concentrated on the meaningless notes I’d scribbled. I shifted my weight again with the same lack of success. “You’re talking about how you felt when you remembered yourself as a child?”

She ignored my question. “You’ve probably figured out already that everything isn’t as great as everyone seems to think with me and Rick. We aren’t really intimate anymore.”

A shiver went down my spine. I casually crossed my legs in an attempt to ease a sudden discomfort. In a voice that came out thinner than intended, I asked, “Linda, what are you telling me?”

“I’ve been so bottled up all my life.” She then looked at me and smiled. “See, we’re talking about the things you wanted to talk about. You helped me get in touch with my true feelings when we did that exercise. Would you like to hear more about the real me—the part I keep hidden inside?”

Why was I feeling so uncomfortable? This was my business—talking about feelings. I suddenly became aware that the lawn mower had quit. I wished it would start back

As I was sorting through those random but strangely comforting thoughts, she leaned closer and said, “As a matter of fact, I did something that’s going to make you proud. You remember how I decided not to be so concerned about what others think of me?”

I nodded, as I picked up my notepad and began to study it.

“I had just stepped out of the shower yesterday when I heard the doorbell ring. I looked out the window and saw a UPS truck. I was feeling naughty and decided to open the door with nothing more than my bath towel wrapped around me.”

She leaned even further forward, brushing my knee with her hand. “What happened shocked me almost as much as it did him. As I reached to sign for the delivery, the towel started to slip. Of course, I wasn’t in any hurry to grab it. Ordinarily, I would have been horrified. In fact, I was for just an instant. Then our discussions ran through my head.”

I tried not to shiver. A movie was playing in my head. It was incredibly vivid—almost as if I were there. I tried to turn it off so I could focus on her words.

“I thought, ‘Bill would really be proud of me right now. I just wish he could be here to see it.’”

Before I could stop the movie, my imagination betrayed me by displaying the scene. My headache intensified.

As much as I wanted to continue watching the movie, I shifted my gaze to her purse. It was probably expensive. Leather? Probably. She wouldn’t have one made of plastic. The clasp was gold. I wondered if it was real gold.

Linda looked up at me with half-closed eyes, forcing me to focus on her once again. “You should have seen the look on the driver’s face. His jaw dropped. I thought he might faint.”

There was an awkward pause. I started to speak, but all that came out was a choking sound. I could feel the sweat dripping from my forehead.

“I felt free in a way I’d never experienced—thanks to you.” A giggle escaped before she could stop it.

Instead of speaking, I simply scratched my head. My mind moved in fits and starts between Linda, the movie, and the purse. While it was a very nice purse, it just didn’t stand a chance among my competing thoughts. I maintained my calm demeanor, showing absolutely no signs of what was going on inside me.

Her breathing picked up. Her voice seemed deeper, throaty. She kept her half-opened eyes focused on me as she continued. “I was getting really turned on by his reaction. Now you’re REALLY not going to believe this.” She stopped to make sure I was listening. I was.

More than anything in the world, I didn’t want her to stop. I also wanted her to stop more than anything in the world. I forced a laugh. “Linda, just what are you doing with that story? I’m uncomfortable with it.” I paused for a second before adding, “very uncomfortable.”

Her already flushed face turned a deeper crimson. “You’re telling me that I have to be concerned with what you think, but not with what anyone else thinks.”

I started to sink down in my chair but reminded myself to sit up straight. “Linda, what you’re saying, that’s not what our work is about.”

At first, her expression flattened. She then flipped her hair back and laughed out loud. “You think that really happened?”

I hung my head. In the meantime, she left the office with a big grin. Fortunately, it was time for the next client who might be a little less stimulating.

I walked to the waiting room and learned the news. My client had canceled. I returned to my office and sat down, trying to process what had just happened. Our session had affected me. I needed to regain my professional center, so I sat and closed my eyes.

A few seconds later, I jerked upright. She had left physically, but I was still holding on to her. I shook myself. It didn’t help. I gave a passing thought to how much I might enjoy the stress-free life of driving a delivery truck.

My thoughts pinballed. I was attracted to her, sure. She was a beautiful woman. Still, I had been at a university where pretty girls walked by me every day. What was different with her?

I thought, maybe for the first time, about just what I had accomplished in my life. I had earned a degree, sure. What I hadn’t yet earned was the identity of being a psychologist. I still had a lot to prove to the world…and to myself.

Then I took a deep breath and sat up to write my notes.

Linda’s Journal

March 24

I left the session with a well-earned smile. So much for the invulnerable shrink. He tried to act like he wasn’t affected. Silly man. A woman knows.

I’ll have to say that I’m proud of myself. I felt powerful in a way I never had before. I walked out wishing I had someone to high five. I deserved it. I’d be willing to bet that I never see that smug look again.

It’s funny. I went in with the idea of showing him the real me…the hidden me. I certainly had no intention of getting excited myself. But I did. Boy, did I. I got so wrapped up in the web I was weaving that I thought…no, I’ll keep it to myself.

I’ve always thought it strange how people get into kinky sex. Now, I have some idea. Pretending to be an exhibitionist was hot. I’ve since bought a few outfits that are a bit on the daring side. Men have noticed, and I’ve noticed that they’ve noticed. Not Rick, though. I could walk down the street naked and he would be oblivious.

I even thought of playing out the fantasy. Rick called to say an associate was coming by to pick up some papers. I fantasized about wrapping a towel around me. Of course, I chickened out in the end. I guess I do still care a little about what others think. It’s a good thing I came to my senses. It was a woman who knocked on the door.

My thoughts keep returning to Bill. I’ve been trying to figure out what it is about him that gets me so worked up. I think I’ve come up with somewhat of an explanation. With him, I’m not the one responsible for setting limits. I can let myself go without having to worry about things going too far. I can tantalize and tease without inhibitions because he’s the one responsible for what happens.

The only problem is that now I find myself thinking too much about him. I’m feeling so incredibly uninhibited. He really did help with that. And he’s right, I’ve been too caught up in meeting the expectations of others. I just need to find a way to express myself. I can’t wait for our next session.

Rick’s Journal

March 27

Something is going on with Linda, and it has me concerned. She’s spending a lot more time on her hair and makeup. She’s also been shopping, and the last thing I need is more bills.

I pretty much trust her, but I have to wonder if maybe she’s met somebody. She doesn’t work, so she has plenty of time to get herself in trouble. It’s pretty sad as I think about it. I slave all day so she can have fun. Then I have to worry about her being unfaithful. Life just isn’t very fair.

I will have to admit that she is looking pretty darn good lately. She can be so incredibly sexy when she wants to be. I promised myself that I wouldn’t keep setting myself up for rejection though. If she decides to thaw out, I’m sure she will let me know. I just hope it doesn’t happen with some other guy. I’m probably just being silly. She’s too concerned about her image to have an affair.

Everyone thinks that Linda is so perfect. Well, she is in a way. Or at least, she could be. She’s beautiful, talented, and has a great personality. When she’s happy, she is more fun to be around than anyone in the world. Unfortunately, she just hasn’t seemed that happy for the last few years. I feel cheated by not having that fun person in my life.

I guess if it turns out that someone else can make her happy, I’ll just wish her well. I would give anything to be the one who could give her what she needs. I would be the happiest guy around. In the meantime, she’s acting so sexy that it’s driving me up the wall.

***

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I arrived home following our session with mixed feelings. On the one hand, I felt like I’d earned my pay. I did something real with Linda, and she left feeling better. But I had to wonder if I’d done nothing more than giving her a sugar lollipop, sweet but lacking substance. The question that continued to haunt me was too obvious to ignore. Did I just give her a psychological band-aid?

I hate to even think it, but I might have allowed my own insecurity to circumvent the work she needed. Did I use that exercise because of a need to prove my worth? Looking back, the imagery work might have been an attempt to gain control of the session. Oh, well. I don’t think it’s going to help her or me to keep doubting myself.

Luckily, Anna was preoccupied with thoughts of the wedding all week. I was ready to set a date. She, on the other hand, was obsessing over the details. Frankly, I couldn’t care less about who was going to be sitting next to whom at the rehearsal dinner. All in all, her wedding obsession was a good thing. I was relieved she didn’t ask further about my “attractive client.”

***

The time for our next session arrived, and Linda dragged in five minutes late. She appeared to be on the verge of tears. I could barely wait for her to be seated before asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Everything. It’s been a terrible week.”

I leaned forward. “What happened?”

Her grip on her purse tightened. “I had my parents over for dinner after our last session. I was really looking forward to it, and that’s unusual for me. Before we finished the salad, my husband, Rick, announced that I was seeing a shrink. He sounded so condescending that I felt like all the air had been let out of my balloon.”

I started slumping down right along with her. “What happened after his statement?”

“There was an awkward silence. It was horrible. Nobody said a word. During that time, I remembered how my parents had always taught me to be self-reliant.” She stopped to wipe away a tear. “I went from being happy to feeling like a total failure.”

“Ouch!”

“Yeah, and my parents’ silence confirmed what I was feeling.”

I watched her for a moment, wondering just how far to push before deciding to take a chance. “What really happened?”

She looked up and asked, “What do you mean?”

I didn’t answer. For once, my stomach didn’t either.

She looked away briefly. “Oh, I guess I did let them wreck how I was feeling.”

“Was it the first time?”

She wrinkled her brow. “Actually, no. As I think about it, there were times when I rushed home excited to tell my parents about something I had done. Their reaction was always something to the effect of ‘so what?’ Especially with my father, it seemed like nothing I did ever quite measured up. It feels funny to say that. I’ve just always thought of them as supportive.”

I felt a sudden temptation to say something soothing. I didn’t.

She paused and looked at her shoes. “It bothers me—a lot. I can’t believe it’s been happening all these years, and I wasn’t even aware of it.”

“Linda, what are you feeling?”

She squirmed. “I’m pissed. Wouldn’t you be?”

I squirmed a bit myself. But deep down, I was glad. She was increasingly sharing her emotional life. I said, “It must be hard to even think about.”

She quickly crossed her legs. “Well, duh…I have a family that doesn’t really love me.”

I sat back, stroking my chin. “Is it possible that you’re jumping the gun with that conclusion?”

She hesitated. The firm set of her jaw disappeared. “Well, I could give them the benefit of the doubt. I just don’t feel like it right now.”

“I can understand.”

She fidgeted with the clasp on her purse and looked around the room before saying, “I think I see what you’re doing.”

I nodded, feeling a surge of confidence. I had no doubt I could guide her through this difficult issue. Riding the momentum, I said, “You’re right again.”

She took her purse off her lap and put it on the floor. It landed with a thud. She turned her head sideways while still looking at me. Her eyes narrowed. “Just what are you up to?”

I froze. I had been getting a little too sure of myself. I felt my shoulders slump before regaining myself. “Linda, there’s something important here.”

She leaned back, appearing deep in thought. I had to remind myself to breathe, not knowing where she might go from here.

She brought her hand up to her temple before saying more softly, “I think I see what you mean. I’m right either way. If I think they’re being mean to me, that’s how it will seem.” She looked at me for a second too long before adding, “At least that’s what I think you want me to say.”

She paused and slowly shook her head before looking up. “Still, I don’t want to give them the benefit of the doubt.”

I was relieved. The tension that had developed in my shoulders quickly released, “Linda, what you just said is incredible.”

She looked at me with slitted eyes. Suddenly, they opened wide. “Oh, I know what you’re getting at. I kind of hate to admit it, even though I just said it. I guess, in the end, it is up to me how I look at things.”

I clamped my jaw shut rather than showing my excitement and just nodded.

She crossed her arms as she said, “You don’t have to look so smug about it.”

I wished I could disappear instead. Still, I sat there—wondering how not to rearrange my face so I wouldn’t look smug.

She finally filled the silence. “Are you hearing how they’ve been treating me?”

I liked that she was challenging me. She was invested. The door was opening to a whole new level between us. I said, “What I’m hearing is your reaction… the way it’s affected you.”

She stared directly at me. “You’re going to tell me I shouldn’t be bothered. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t spent most of my life trying to live up to their standards.”

I uncrossed my legs and leaned toward her. “Linda, I’m not for a minute questioning what you’re feeling or the reasons for it.”

She nodded slowly as she put her purse aside. “Yeah, but still…I let it affect me too much.”

“At the end of our last session, I asked you to practice stepping away from your usual way of doing things. Do you remember?”

After just a second, her expression lightened. “I guess I can see what you were getting at before. I don’t need to think of myself as a victim. Maybe I don’t have to get so caught up in what my parents think.”

With a half-smile, I asked, “Is it okay if I say you’re right again?”

She laughed and the tension in the room released. Her expression then turned serious again. “You know, I’m going through a lot. Things are starting to open up for me. I’m seeing things through new eyes. It’s kind of good, but it also kind of isn’t.”

I nodded. “Sounds unsettling.”

She sat back and said, “I do like the freedom of seeing my reaction as a choice.”

“It seemed like you stopped but had something else to say.”

She bit her lip lightly. “Looking at it in any other way gives me responsibility—I don’t necessarily like that.”

“What’s the problem with it?”

Her answer was flat but definitive. “It makes me responsible for how I feel.”

“What else does it give you?”

With an unfocused look and a faint grin, she said quietly, “Freedom.”

There was dead silence. A car honked outside. We both jumped.

She settled back and smiled again.

I rubbed my chin and said, “Your mood changed quickly.”

She looked at me. “Yeah, I guess it did..”

I sat back, hoping that the shock of the car horn wouldn’t stop our flow. “That’s quite a shift.”

She let out a sigh. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. As I think about it, I’m kind of glad it happened after all.”

I paused. “Last time when we did an exercise. Was it helpful for you?”

She uncrossed her legs and leaned back. “Was it ever! It brought me back to feelings I’d almost forgotten about.”

I uncrossed my legs and sat back as well. “If you’re okay with it, I’d like you to close your eyes again.”

She surprised me by sitting up straight. “I don’t know. Last time…it felt almost like you were giving me a drug. I felt so much better. That made it even harder when Rick shot me down with his comment.”

I nodded, cursing myself for trying to take her in a direction she didn’t want to go. “I can understand. It’s up to you.”

She then sat back and closed her eyes—on her terms. Still, she didn’t look relaxed. She tried to tighten her muscles and relax them as I had recommended, but it didn’t seem to help.

I felt the tension growing inside me as well. “Linda, if you’re not ready, you’re not ready. It’s not something you need to do right now.”

She shook her head, even as her eyes remained closed. “No, I feel like there’s something there. It’s close. I just can’t quite touch it.”

I smiled to myself as I sat quietly and allowed her to work.

She continued to fight the relaxation, and I watched as she next tried deep breathing. I was filled with anticipation. There must be something there if she could only reach it.

After a bit, competing emotions began to appear on her face. A faint smile was replaced by a firm jaw and furrowed brow. Her troubled expression continued for a few seconds. Then the smile returned, broader now. Her eyelids fluttered and then reopened.

I was floored as I watched her internal drama. Knowing that any question wouldn’t match the moment, I just asked, “What happened?”

She spoke quietly. “I was remembering way back from my early childhood. I loved my parents so much, but I was always worried about disappointing them.”

I nodded. “Did any particular memory cross your mind?”

She opened her eyes and looked right at me. She then took a deep breath and closed them again. She shook her head, a little too vigorously.

I looked away from her and said, almost to myself, “It looked like for a minute that you had hit on something.”

She took a minute to respond. “Well… actually, there was one time. I must have been really young. My parents had people over. I got really excited… I don’t know why it’s so hard to talk about.”

When nothing more was forthcoming, I finally said, “It’s up to you.”

She shook her head rapidly as she sat straight in her chair. Then she leaned back and said softly, “It’s amazing. I found out that a tiny part of me is still a little ashamed about what happened. I somehow lost control and messed my pants.” Her face turned increasingly crimson with her recollection.

I paused momentarily before gritting my teeth and taking a chance, “Linda, I absolutely love the way you can recall things so vividly. You’ve been doing such an incredible job. Would you be willing to try one more thing with me?”

She scooted back and looked at me with half-opened eyes before slowly nodding her head.

“I appreciate your trust.” I paused, trying to see if she was ready for a big ask. “I want you to consider doing something that might seem a bit unusual.”

She maintained a steady look and uncrossed her legs.

Sensing she was with me, I asked, “How would you feel about bringing that little girl in the room with us right now?”

Her eyes flew open. “What do you mean? Are you talking about me when I was little?”

I stuttered with my response, wondering if I had again misinterpreted. “Yeah, I know it’s kind of a strange thing to ask, but I think she might be able to help.”

She looked away and took several shallow breaths. Time seemed to stand still. She eventually returned her gaze to me, but her eyes were unfocused. “I want to cooperate, and I’m trying. It’s just not coming to me.”

I stiffened slightly and hoped she didn’t notice. Maybe too quickly, I said, “You’re so good with your memories. Instead of trying, how about allowing?”

Still nothing. I said, “You don’t need to remember that time. Just get in touch with that little girl. Who she was, how she thought and felt.”

She slowly shook her head from side to side. I sat back, looking at the wall behind her.

Time elapsed with nothing but silence. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, leaning forward and back. At one point, she almost seemed to be rocking in her straight-backed chair. The whole time, her hands stayed glued to her face.

I was beginning to think I might have asked too much from her too soon. To prevent my intestines from revealing my insecurities, I quietly pressed my hand into my stomach in an attempt to prevent an errant sound from piercing the silence. My efforts were less than successful.

A brief laugh escaped her.

I kept my voice steady. “Linda, I’m human. We both are. It can be hard to face painful times from our past.”

Ignoring my comment, she turned her head away and said, “I really don’t see the point in doing this. Let’s talk about something relevant to my life.”

I didn’t argue.

The tension slowly eased. I didn’t know what to expect. Then she said, “Yeah, there were times from my childhood when I was unhappy. I didn’t get a toy I wanted or a friend was mean to me.”

I took a breath. “Very good. Now I’d like for you to enter one of those times—not just in a description. I want you to flow back to that time. Feel it as if it’s happening again.”

“Is this really necessary? I don’t see how it has anything to do with what’s going on with me now.”

I didn’t engage.

She changed positions a couple of times before once again leaning back and closing her eyes. Suddenly, she practically jumped out of her chair, saying in a high-pitched voice, “Oh, no. No, no, no! My pants are all gooey and stinky—what happened? What have I done? Mommy and Daddy are going to be so mad. They are mad! They’re yelling at me! Everybody’s looking at me.”

She brought her knees up to her chest and put her arms around them.

I winced at her unexpected and worrying reaction.

I waited. Then I waited a little more. “Linda, I know it’s hard. Can you stay with that little girl just a little longer? Is there something you’d like to tell her?”

I held my breath as I waited for her to continue.

She hid her face in her hands.

I balled my fists to keep from speaking.

Then she suddenly looked up, calmly saying, “I just did.”

The finality in the way she said it shook me. “It sounds like something big just happened.”

She laughed lightly. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot you were here. I was spending time with little Linda. At first, I wanted to spank her. Then I felt myself being with her, just consoling and loving her. And most importantly, forgiving her.”

“My gosh, Linda, that’s incredible. What do you take from it?”

The tears were gone. Her voice and her gaze were steady as she said, “I’ve still got that little girl inside me.”

“I hear you. Is there something further?”

“You bet there is.” She shook her head. “I don’t know if I want to tell you about it.”

I ignored a twinge of defensiveness and said, “I’m hearing a big shift. What are you going to do with it?”

She looked away for several seconds before looking directly at me. “I just saw new possibilities opening up in front of me.”

My internal alarm bells started ringing. Did that realization come before she was ready? Instead of sounding strong and hopeful, her voice had a quality I couldn’t put my finger on. I decided to go with her words rather than my gut. “Sounds strong—like you’re planning to make some changes.”

The way that she looked at me sent shivers up my spine.

She looked around the room before saying anything. She then asked, “What is your agenda?”

I was both horrified and relieved. “Linda, I’m glad you asked—even though it’s hard to hear. I want you to be real with me…tell me what’s going on with you. Tell me what brought up that question.”

She stuttered in response. “I…well…I’m not really sure. Sometimes it just feels like you’re pushing me faster than I’m ready to go.”

As much as I wanted to reassure her, I didn’t say anything.

“Well, if I’m going to be totally honest with myself, I guess I’ll have to say that I’m the one doing the pushing.”

I smiled broadly. “You really reached down deep for that one.”

It took her a minute before she looked up and returned my smile. “Yes, what I’m going through is tough—a lot tougher than I’d expected. I kind of wanted to blame you for making me go through it. But I know that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Are you about to get down on yourself again?”

She brought her head up fully. “I’m starting to see that what I’m going through has deep roots. I can’t just suddenly decide to be someone different.”

I allowed her statement to sink in. “Can there be some room for self-forgiveness in what you just said?”

Her brief laugh was humorless. “I guess I’m more human than I thought. When I was in achievement mode, I didn’t take time to think about things like that.”

“Are you able to settle somewhere deep inside as you say that?”

She surprised me by sitting up straight and saying, “I think I’m going to be okay now. I have a handle on what went wrong.”

Her inner battle was playing out right in front of me. Rather than taking sides, I said, “You’re doing some great work. Let’s see where it leads.”

She abruptly stood up, handing me a check. As she walked out, I said, “See you next week.”

She turned around and gave me a half-smile before walking out the door.

Linda’s Journal

March 17

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Mother came by to see me and asked her usual question, “Honey, how are you?” For some reason it made me mad. I started to yell at her before I stopped and realized how crazy I was being. The next thing I knew, my anger turned into tears.

Mother didn’t know what to do. She’s never seen me like that before—at least since I was a child. She let me cry for a minute without saying anything. Finally, she asked if something terrible had happened. After I told her that everything was okay, she just acted like my outburst never happened.

Part of me wants to blame it on Bill. Is that crazy? I don’t know. I’ve never acted like that before and don’t know why I did then. There’s nothing going on in my life that would excuse it. And it’s not like he said anything that would cause me to act that way.

As I’m thinking about it, I do have some misgivings about that age-regression hypnosis or whatever it was that he did. I don’t know what he was trying to accomplish, and I didn’t much like it. Next thing I know, he’ll be asking me to remember past lives or talk to spirits.

Maybe I’m being unfair to him. The thing is that I’m feeling mixed up and don’t know why. I didn’t really have any reason to see him in the first place. It just seemed like something interesting to try. I don’t have any need or interest in reliving the worst moments of my childhood.

One thing’s for sure. I’m not going to continue allowing my family to tell me how to think or feel. Rick asked me if I had made another appointment, and I let him have it. I’ve had enough of having him and my dad trying to control me.

Rick felt bad for ruining dinner with my parents and asked what he could do to makeup for it. I told him that, instead of making light of me when I wrote in my journal, he could keep one of his own. He surprised me by agreeing. It was quite a concession for him since he constantly complains about how busy he is.

I started writing to let off steam about how others have judged me and used their approval to control me. I think I’ve kind of known about it in the back of my mind. I just hadn’t allowed myself to really think about it. So that’s not the most important thing I got out of the session.

I think I’ve done a pretty good job of working things out on my own. I probably don’t even need Bill anymore. I guess I’ll go back since I already have an appointment scheduled. I kind of like him, but he’s a bit too straight-laced. I don’t like the way he sits there and watches as I try to sort out my mixed-up feelings.

Bill is sort of a mystery to me, and I find myself thinking about him for some reason. I don’t like that I’m revealing my innermost thoughts and feelings while he just sits there. I want him to meet me where I live. And I think I have a pretty good idea to accomplish it.

Rick’s Journal

March 19

I told Linda I would start a journal, so I might as well get started. It’s one more thing I have to do each day, but it does seem to help me to sort things out. I sort of owe it to Linda for making that comment, but I’m not going to take it back.

I don’t know what she thinks she’s going to get out of that therapy crap. It seems to me like it’s nothing more than a legal way to steal. If she knew the financial pressure I’m under, I don’t think she would be wasting her time and my money like that. I can’t believe she made so much of a simple little remark I made at dinner. I always have to watch what I say around her. I hate feeling like I’m walking on eggshells in my own home. And she wonders why I’m gone so much.

I hate my work. It’s no fun to fight to make a living. I’m not talking about just in the courtroom either. I’m on the phone all day arguing with insurance companies. I also have to deal with clients. Every one of them expects me to do nothing but work on their case all day, every day.

Life should be more fun than this. I feel like I’ve paid my dues, and for what? All I have to show for it is more bills to pay. What hurts most is having a wife who doesn’t love me. I try so hard to be a good provider and a good husband, but she’s never satisfied.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to write a journal. I never have the chance to let off steam like this. Somehow it does help to be able to just put it down on paper. I almost wish that I did believe in that therapy crap. I’m sick of spending my life doing nothing other than working and worrying.

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I came home from my first session feeling charged and positive. Anna, my wife-to-be, greeted me at the door with a quick kiss. Typically, she didn’t ask about my clients, a fact for which I was grateful. Today was the exception. She was understandably more interested in the session, considering the fact that our future financial well-being was involved.

I responded to her question with the one, ethically safe answer available. I said that my first client was an interesting young woman and I enjoyed talking with her. Unfortunately, Anna wasn’t quite satisfied.

She asked about her age. I guessed late twenties. Then she had to know about her appearance. I finally commented, in an offhand manner, that she was attractive. As I said it, I would have sworn her face fell. It was probably just my imagination. Why was she asking me such a question? And did I say too much? She should know that I keep a steel curtain between the personal and the professional.

And then she made a comment that got my thoughts swirling. “You mean she paid that much just for talking with you?” As if that weren’t enough, she threw in another zinger. “I get to talk to you for free, and even then it isn’t much of a bargain.” This time I was the one whose face fell. That brief interaction kept playing over and over in my head. Anna’s not a cruel person. I hate to say it, but she found a sore spot. I do feel strange about asking people to pay me for talking with them.

I hated that her comment had stirred up my self-doubts. Was I charging too much? Was it worth it, just to talk with me? My insides churned. I felt like a fraud. Still, what I do is work…hard work. To Anna’s credit, she did give me a quick kiss in an apparent attempt to undo her hurtful comment.

Part of the gift and the curse of my training is that I process my own life in a way similar to what I do with my clients. The honesty required can sometimes provide a challenge. Along those lines, I’ll have to admit, in the privacy of my thoughts, that I did find Linda attractive.

As I played the session back in my mind, I came to a painful realization. I hadn’t done much of anything to earn my fee. Should I have done more? I was used to seeing clients who paid little or nothing. This was a whole different ball game. Deep down, I knew better. Still, I was determined to do something to show my value.

As I followed the trail of my doubts, I had to wonder at Anna’s reaction. She has to know that I’m doing this work for the both of us. It would have helped if she could have been just a little more supportive. She knows my insecurities, maybe even better than I do. As I think about it, she’s just trying to encourage me to be more assertive and in control. In thinking back through it, I almost had to laugh at myself. The very thought that she might be jealous was silly.

***

The next Tuesday, I sighed in relief when I heard the door open right on time. Linda had returned. I liked her. I felt we could make real progress. Seeing her, my earlier doubts faded away. However, a different worry raised its ugly head. I found it necessary to do a little self-check. I wanted to make sure I didn’t allow my personal feelings to get involved.

Linda greeted me with a smile. This time she was more casually dressed, wearing shorts and a tank top. I didn’t allow my eyes to move in the direction they were pulled. They were, after all, nice shorts.

She didn’t waste any time getting started. “I’ve been thinking a lot since I talked with you. There’s been a nagging thought in the back of my mind. I guess it was there before, but I had never allowed it to come fully to light. When we talked last week, I had to face it. I made this bed. It’s up to me whether I want to continue lying in it.”

I scratched my head. “I’m curious about your metaphor.”

A sudden change in her expression made me uncomfortable.

She said, “Okay, I guess I need to come clean with myself. I built my life on a lie.”

My forehead wrinkled. “Linda, the way you’re saying it…that’s not what I’m after.”

She smiled tentatively. “I guess I rush to extremes. There’s no need to be so harsh. It’s easy to see what happened. I was asleep at the wheel. I had a goal. I reached it. I didn’t allow myself to step back and see if it turned out to be what I really wanted.”

A lawn mower started up outside my window. I was actually somewhat glad for the racket. It was a distraction from the pressure that was building. I asked just loud enough to be heard over the sound, “What does that mean about you?”

She looked up. “I don’t understand.”

I didn’t say anything.

Her eyes opened wide for a moment before closing completely. She shook her head. “I guess I’m just like most people. We’re just like sheep. Point us in a direction, and we just follow the herd.”

My chuckle could barely be heard over the mower. “I can’t say for sure, but I’m guessing sheep don’t generally think about their situation.”

Her eyes opened again. “You’re right. I’ve been thinking about it—maybe too much. That’s why I’m feeling down on myself.”

Now that her eyes were open again, I held her gaze. “Let’s talk about choices.”

Her brow furrowed momentarily. “I don’t know what you mean. Oh, yeah. I guess that’s what I came in here talking about. I can choose whether I want to live this way.”

“Is that the only choice you have?”

She shook her head again. “What do you mean?”

I could tell by the way her eyes shifted that she noticed my tic. I silently cursed myself. I absolutely hate that my eyebrows twitch when I’m holding something back.

Luckily, she let me off the hook, as a smile played on the corner of her lips. She raised her hand up to cover her mouth as she turned her head away. Finally, she said, “Yeah, it’s the other choice that’s harder. There are things I could do to change my lifestyle, but I don’t want to do them.”

I nodded. “I can understand. It’s just easier to talk about lifestyle changes…outside things.”

She pursed her lips as she started playing with the clasp on her purse. “Okay, I’ve put myself in a bind. I guess I’m just spoiled and lazy.”

“Aren’t you making a choice right now?”

This time it was her lip that twitched. She looked down and shook her head. “You’re confusing me.”

“Am I?”

She looked up sharply. “I know what you’re getting at. I just don’t like it.”

A weed eater started up. The noise was almost so loud it hurt my ears. I was tempted to yell at the worker. Real smart—like yelling at a dog to stop barking.

Her left hand joined in the repetitive opening and closing of the purse. After a few seconds of various emotions playing on her face, she said, “Why don’t you leave me alone! I don’t know why I came here in the first place.”

Before I could stop myself, I said, “It probably would have felt better if you’d spent your time going to get a massage.”

With a brief laugh, she sat back. “Yeah, I know what you’re saying. I came in here to face the hard truths. But some are harder than others. When I start to take responsibility for how I live, I feel like a failure.”

“Linda, you’re the one who’s been focusing on your lifestyle.”

She shrugged. “I guess I’m a creature of habit. My lifestyle was comfortable. I didn’t see any reason to change it. At least, not until now.”

“Just a check—is there anything wrong with your lifestyle?”

She began fiddling with her purse which, once again, remained on her lap. Finally, she said, “I guess not. Well, I guess you could say that I’m taking and not giving. To be honest, I hadn’t really thought about it.”

“Are you saying that you feel a need to do more for others?”

She shook her head. “Not really. Should I?”

I had to chuckle. “Let’s just make sure you didn’t make a wrong turn. The church is on the next block. I’m more interested in learning what fits or doesn’t fit for you.”

Her eyes left mine and drifted over to a bare wall. “Oh, that’s a good question. It really hits home. I don’t think I allowed myself to think about it. Maybe it’s like that myth about how people supposedly live happily ever after.”

“I think you might be on to something. I’d like to know what there is about that idea that hits home for you.”

She scrunched her face. “It does more than I want to admit. I was always goal-oriented. My parents taught me to be that way. I was a high achiever. Now I’m just a leech.”

My forehead furrowed. “That sounds harsh…judgmental.”

She looked down. “Yeah, I’m pretty down on myself right now.”

She waited. I waited. I wasn’t going to rescue. This time it was her stomach that gurgled. I suppressed a smile.

I felt myself start to sink down with her and finally asked, “If you remove the judgment, could you be okay with the way you live?”

She shook her head. “It wouldn’t be possible.” After a beat, she said, “Well, I guess I could be. But that’s just not the way I’m put together.”

“What do you mean? “

“I could have the prettiest yard in town or join different committees. It just wouldn’t work for me.”

“Let’s talk about what would work for you. It could be something obvious, or maybe something less tangible.”

“You’re losing me. What could I do that’s less tangible?”

I smiled. “What are you doing right now?”

She returned my smile. “You know, you’re right. I’m stepping outside of my dead-end life and figuring out what I could do differently.”

“It takes courage to do that. It’s not surprising that it leaves you feeling sort of up in the air.”

She leaned back. “I hope you’re not thinking I need to do something dramatic, like leaving my husband?”

“Linda, I’m not talking about your husband at all. We’re here to talk about you.”

She let out a breath. “Oh, you scared me for a minute there. Are you saying that there’s nothing wrong with the way I live?”

“Is the doubt coming from me or from you?”

She suddenly sat up, sitting on the edge of her seat.

“To tell you the truth, I almost didn’t come back today. I just don’t see how talking with you like this is going to do any good.”

I kept my breathing steady. “What you’re doing right now… looking inside. It’s hard. You’re wondering if it’s worth the effort.”

“Well, I did feel a little better after the last time we met. But my husband made light of it, and I’ve been wondering if I shouldn’t be able to feel better on my own.”

“It sounds like it really upset you when he made that comment. What did it stir up?”

She sat back, but only half way. “Yeah, it hit me harder than I would have thought. I’ve relied on myself throughout my life. My parents are quite successful, and they always encouraged me to depend on myself and no one else.”

“You’re trying to tie two things that are rather complicated together. The was you were raised and your sense that you need to make a change to your lifestyle. I’m not saying there is no connection, but I think trying to deal with it from that persective could complicate things.

“How have you felt in the past when you accomplished things without help? “

“Happy, strong, and proud. I can remember things like being chosen as a cheerleader and making an ‘A’ in a tough math course. I felt so good at those times.”

“As you were telling me how well you felt, it seemed like you were not only remembering what happened but also experiencing the feelings you had at the time.”

“Well, yes, I was. That was the closest I’ve felt to feeling good in quite a while.”

She had opened a door. I felt the pull to rush in, to give her something solid to hold on to. I steadied myself, then took the risk.

“I’d like to try something that might help us understand what’s happening inside you. Only if you’re willing.”

She hesitated. “What kind of exercise?”

“You have a knack for connecting with memories. Let’s take advantage of it.”

Her shoulders softened. A smile flickered across her face. It hit me harder than it should have.

“It’s simple,” I said. “Just lean back and take a few slow breaths.”

“Close your eyes. Let your breathing stay slow. Picture your morning before you came in.”

Her eyelids fluttered.

“Just walk through it,” I added. “Step by step.”

As she settled, I caught myself noticing the curve of her cheek, the way the light caught her hair. I pushed the thought away.

“Allow yourself to return to a pleasant memory. One that feels vivid.”

The room was still. She removed her purse from her lap and sat back. I found myself focusing on the purse and wondering how expensive it was. I don’t know why something so irrelevant had crossed my mind. On the other hand, it was better than letting my eyes wander where they wanted to go.

I said, “You might close your eyes so you can get a clear picture of it.”

She was quiet for a moment. Then: “I took an advanced placement calculus class in high school…”

Her voice warmed as she described the day she got the top grade. “The teacher was tough. She complimented my work. I’d never heard her say that to anyone.”

I followed her tone. “What do you notice around you as you’re receiving the grade?”

She smiled. “The sun. The warmth. I can almost hear birds outside.”

“And how do you feel now?”

“Happy. Warm. Like I’m right back there.”

I hesitated —then pushed forward. “Touch the back of your left hand with your right index finger. Just lightly. Let that feeling settle there.”

She opened her eyes slowly, blinking as if the room had changed shape. “Wow. I feel terrific. I felt awful when I walked in. Now I feel… good. Really good.”

“It’s a positive sign. What do you take from the experience?”

She sat up straighter. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been so busy trying to be the perfect version of me that I forgot who I am.”

The insight came too fast, too clean. I noted it without comment.

“And what does that do for you?” I asked.

“I feel free. I can’t believe how tied up in knots I’ve been.”

“Are there situations where you might act differently now?”

“I’m sure there are. I’ve been so dumb.”

“Do you want to use what you learned to punish yourself?”

She laughed softly. “No. I get it. No more compulsive people pleasing.”

I nodded, though something in me tightened. “Over the next week, just observe yourself. No judgments. Notice what you do and how it fits into your life. We’re not making big changes yet. We’re just learning about Linda.”

She smiled again —grateful, trusting. It should have felt like progress. Instead, I felt the ground shift beneath us.

Linda’s Journal

March 3

After our session, I was genuinely feeling lighter. In fact, I felt better than I had in a long time. I still had some doubts about whether this shrink was strong enough to help me, but he did seem to know what he was talking about. He didn’t make me figure everything out on my own this time, so I was more comfortable.

He even did some sort of hypnosis thing that was just great. I’ve been practicing it several times a day, and to my amazement, it seems to work. It’s great to know that I have something I can use to get me through the tough times.

Talking with Bill got me thinking. I’m becoming increasingly aware of how much I’ve been living to meet other people’s expectations. It feels strange to look back on all the choices that I’ve made that weren’t really my choices at all. I’m amazed. I’ve always thought of myself as such an independent woman. And yet, I was always seeking approval.

It’s sad to think that no matter how much I work to improve myself, I will never meet the expectations of my husband and my parents. They are just so judgmental. It seems that I’m doomed to live my life as a failure in their eyes.

Since having dinner with my parents, I’ve been feeling like a complete loser. It doesn’t really make sense, but I feel like I’ve let them down. I was given an assignment to watch myself as I go through each day. I hate to say it, but I’ve been totally disgusted by what I’ve seen.

I’m having serious second thoughts about going back to see the shrink. I guess I should be able to get over it on my own. It’s really kind of silly of me. I’ve got everything I could ever ask for. What’s wrong with me? That’s funny. It’s the same question I started with.

Author’s Note: This story is being presented in serialized form. You may access the Table of Contents at drnealritter.com If you choose to subscribe be notified by email of additional chapters.

This is not a book to be understood before it is experienced.

If something in these pages moves you, pause. Let the feeling arrive before you try to put it into words.

Not everything will seem meaningful at first. Stay with it. At times, what matters may reveal itself quietly—less as something explained, and more as something recognized. 

…

Linda

Session One

It was the day I had worked toward for years. I was finally about to see my first client in my own office. I could barely contain my excitement.

I had told myself I was ready. I had believed it. But standing there, waiting for the hour to begin, that confidence began to slip. What had I been thinking? Borrowing money, opening an office, planning a wedding… all of it suddenly felt reckless.

I looked around the room. No art. No small touches. Nothing that said anything about me. Nothing that made the space feel lived in. I had no instruments to display, no props to hide behind. Just a chair, a couch, and me—my ears, my voice, and whatever skill I hoped I had.

The closer it got to the appointment time, the more I noticed every flaw. The room felt small. Plain. Unimpressive. I was going to ask people to pay to talk to me here? Some might take one look and walk right back out.

My thoughts were spiraling, and I knew it. If I kept going, my client would see how nervous I was before I even said hello.

Then I remembered my supervisor’s advice. Whenever I drifted into anxious “what ifs,” he would shrug and say, “You deal with it.” And he was right. That’s what I would do.

I reminded myself of my training. I had worked with plenty of clients. I had skills. And the person walking through my door today wasn’t looking for perfection.

I could feel my heart picking up, each beat a little harder than the last.

My client was already two minutes late.

I stood there for a moment, listening to the silence, aware of how much I had invested in being exactly where I was standing—and how little that seemed to steady me.

Then I heard the front door open.

The sound was small, almost ordinary. Still, it cut through everything.

She was here.

She looked around my office, pausing briefly with my diplomas before sitting gracefully. She leaned back and crossed her legs, all the while keeping her purse in her lap.

I took a minute to settle. Tailored outfit, perfect hair, lipstick, heels, a hint of perfume—or was I just imagining that to complete the image?

I began with my usual, open-ended question. “Linda, what brings you here today?”

“I was talking to some of my friends at the club. They said they had seen a psychologist and thought it was worthwhile. I decided, what the heck. I have plenty of time on my hands and nothing better to do, so I looked in the paper and saw you had just opened a practice.”

I settled back in my seat, finally beginning to relax. “I’m glad you did. As it happens, you’re my very first client here, so welcome.”

She smiled but said nothing.

I started to stiffen. I said, possibly a little too soon, “I’m looking forward to getting to know you. How about telling me something about your life? Who is Linda?”

She looked around until her gaze settled on the door. “What is this… like a philosophy class?” She crossed her legs and looked at the bare walls. “I’m just not sure it’s going to be worth my time.”

I gritted my teeth and waited to see what direction she would take.

Finally, she leaned back partway and said, “I’m no one special. My life is actually pretty routine. I sleep late quite a bit. The housekeeper wakes me up most days, so I get dressed and go to the gym.”

She stopped and looked at me. “Do you really need to know all this? It doesn’t have anything to do with why I called.”

My stomach growled. The sound seemed to echo across the room.

She stole a glance at the door and then back at me. I felt myself start to breathe again as she continued. “After my workout, I have brunch or lunch, depending on the time. I spend a lot of time in the afternoon with phone calls.” She stopped briefly and looked away before adding, “and social media.”

I smiled briefly. “What’s it like to tell me about it?”

She finally leaned all the way back. After a brief laugh, she said, “I hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought. But coming right out and saying it, I feel a little embarrassed.”

“There’s something about the way you live that you don’t feel quite right about?”

She shook her head a single time. “Well, it’s pretty much what I always wanted.”

I leaned forward slightly. “I’m getting a sense that something’s off.”

She looked away and began talking. “Well, it’s really okay. I’m very busy. Just yesterday, I met with several friends for lunch. They told me all about their kids. One of them, Sarah, is very proud because her son was selected to play on the varsity basketball team. Another friend, Beth, well, I guess it’s a bit different with her. She and her husband are having problems. She just goes on and on about them, but she won’t leave him. She just likes to talk.”

My inner stopwatch was ticking. I had to interrupt. “Linda, what are you really telling me?”

She sat back with an expression almost like a smirk. “Oh. I thought you wanted to hear about my life?”

A brief wave of tension ran through me. I hoped it didn’t show. “I was hoping for something a little deeper.”

Her speech was uneven. She began slowly. “I’m not sure what you expect.” Then much louder, “Just what do you want from me?”

The room was quiet for a minute. “It’s not about what I want.”

A faint smile began to appear and then suddenly vanished. “Oh, I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t be wasting your time.”

I relaxed and smiled. “Linda, is that what I was saying?”

She looked at my diplomas before returning her gaze to me. “I guess I can see what you’re getting at. It’s uncomfortable.”

I nodded. My smile stayed in place. Just not as fully.

She started opening and closing the clasp on her purse. “Then I guess I don’t know what to say.”

My eyebrows raised slightly. “You don’t?”

Her first word came out slowly. “Well, I guess I kind of do.” She paused as she resumed looking around the room. “I just don’t feel comfortable saying it.”

She took a long look at my diplomas as she brought her hands over her knees.

She finally said, “Okay. I don’t much care for my life. Is that what you were waiting to hear? I guess you’re happy now.”

I simply sat with her.

“Well, that’s not really true. I have a great life. There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m actually really lucky.” She winced. “It’s me. There must be something wrong with me. I guess I just don’t know how to be happy.”

I uncrossed my legs and leaned toward her. “Wow, that’s a tough thing to say.”

She looked at me as she had done before. Why did she now look so different? I was floored by her sudden vulnerability and fought an impulse to stare.

This time, she was the one who stayed silent. The room became unsettled. There was a sense that the next few seconds would determine our course.

I was floundering… a sense of excitement mixed with panic. I had to say something. “I admire you.”

She sat back quickly as she grabbed her purse again. She then said, “Why would you say that?”

“It must be a hard thing to face… and even harder to come right out and say.”

A faint smile appeared. “Yeah, I guess it was a big step. It seems kind of silly. I don’t know why it was so hard for me. I’m surprised. I actually feel relieved, now that I’ve said it.”

“Any idea why it was so hard for you?”

She stared at the floor. She brought her hand up to cover her eyes. Then she moved it down to partially cover her mouth even as she spoke. “I don’t have any right to feel bad.”

I leaned toward her. “Do people have to earn their feelings?”

There was an edge in her voice as she spoke. “You know what I mean. If you’re going to make fun of me, I’m not going to waste my time.”

I felt my gut clench. I started to apologize but stopped myself. “It’s a delicate time. You were reaching inside and sharing something with me that‘s been very private. Thank you for that.”

She looked up and smiled openly. “Thank you for hearing me. You don’t think I’m crazy because I’m not happy?”

“That seems to be a question that’s been bothering you.”

She stared at me. “Well, duh.”

I simply smiled at her. “Here’s my question. Is happiness an inside thing or an outside thing?”

She uncrossed her legs and sat back. “I guess I was getting them mixed up. I’ve always worked so hard to make things right on the outside. I guess I haven’t paid enough attention to the inside part. And as I think of it, that’s the part that really matters.”

“Let’s talk a little about what your life is like.”

She frowned. “It’s okay. I mean it’s pretty much what I’d dreamed of.”

“Is it what you thought it would be? I’m asking about the inside part.”

She gathered herself and shifted her weight further away from me. “Look, I hardly know you. You’re asking questions that aren’t easy to answer.”

I took a breath as I shifted my weight. “Isn’t that the idea?”

She looked up slowly, still not meeting my eyes. Her voice was faint. “Okay, I guess I need to admit it to myself. I’m bored with my life and my lifestyle. I’m not living for anything anymore. I’m just living.”

As she settled back in her chair, I said, “Sounds like something you’ve been living with for a while.”

She looked past me with unfocused eyes. “Yeah, I keep hoping it will get better. Yet, I wake up every day to the same stupidity. It’s getting harder and harder. But I don’t want you to think I’m depressed or anything like that. Do you?”

“It’s no wonder you’re asking that question. Maybe we can find the answer.”

She smiled. “That’s what I want. I want it more than anything. I don’t want to overturn my life. I just want to feel better. Do you think you can help?”

The question wasn’t unexpected. My response had to be. “If you’re looking for outside help, I’m fresh out.”

Rather than saying anything right away, she crossed her legs and began playing with her watch. “I came in not having any idea what to expect. But it certainly wasn’t you. You’re not safe. I like that.”

I took a sip of water, determined to appear neutral.

“You’re probably thinking I’m just spoiled and don’t need to be wasting your time. But my life isn’t the problem. It’s me.”

I shook my head. “You seem to be looking for a place to land.”

She started to object. She then sat back. “Oh, yeah, I get it. I’m bouncing between blaming my dissatisfaction on my outside life and me.”

“Yeah, that. And also bouncing about whether you want to let everything out.”

She shuffled in her chair, looked away, and then met my gaze. “I didn’t give it a lot of thought when I made the appointment. Maybe I didn’t take it seriously enough. Now I see that maybe I need to.”

The tension between us began to ease. I said, “It isn’t easy to look deep inside.”

She nodded slowly.

She then slumped in her seat. “I really don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve got the kind of life I always dreamed of, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing seems to matter. Pretty crazy, huh?”

“Is it really crazy?”

A tiny tear appeared in the corner of her eye. “I’ve got it all but feel like I might as well have nothing.”

Her words landed with a thud. I said, almost reflexively, “How do you feel about that?”

She abruptly turned her head to look right at me. “How do you think I feel?!”

I gulped, then laughed. “I guess we both feel a little stupid right now.”

The tension in her face disappeared. She laughed with me. Short, and certainly not deep, yet meaningful.

She straightened up and took another look at the door. “It wasn’t easy for me to make the call. I didn’t want to come here today.” She frowned. “Now that I’m here, I don’t like your questions.”

I swallowed hard once again but didn’t say anything.

She settled back in her chair. “I said I was willing. I meant it, but I guess I didn’t really mean it.”

“It’s not easy to be so honest.”

She stopped for a second before resuming. “I didn’t realize it when I said it, but what I really meant was I would cooperate as long as it wasn’t too hard.”

I leaned forward slightly with a smile. “That’s big.”

She shook her head slowly with eyes downcast. “Why can’t I be like my friends? They all seem so together. When I say anything about how I feel, they just change the subject.”

Once again, I started to provide a typical shrink response. Instead, I kept my mouth closed.

The tears now started to trickle. “It hurts. In fact, it hurts like hell! I feel so alone. My friends don’t care. To make matters worse, I’ve got this great husband, but he’s the last person who wants to hear how I feel.”

I sat there, absorbing the impact of her words.

She suddenly looked up. “Why do I feel this way?”

My stomach growled again. I didn’t move.

She started fiddling with her watch. She then picked up her purse. It looked for a minute like she might throw it at me.

The awkward silence lingered. Suddenly the mask her face had become gave way. “I guess I’m mad at myself. But that doesn’t make any sense. What have I done wrong?”

“You seem intent on blaming yourself.”

She looked up at me with eyebrows raised. “What do you mean?”

Ah, it hit me in a wave… a familiar feeling I had hoped for. I was becoming empty. Without realizing it, I’d been too caught up with myself. Now, I was simply being with her. I said, “Are you listening to what you’re saying?”

She began opening and closing the clasp on her purse. “I don’t understand. I always believed that happiness followed if you accomplished your goals.”

“Except, it hasn’t worked in quite that way.”

She lightly smacked the side of her head. “I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. Why couldn’t I see it?”

“Are you saying the same thing, just a little differently?”

I felt my fingers holding my pen tighten as I waited for her answer.

For an instant, she sat perfectly still. Her eyes never left mine. Then she smiled. “Whoa, was I ever on the wrong track. I was driving myself to get somewhere. I got there and then didn’t know what to do.”

I took a deep breath, and she did the same. “That’s got to be a hard thing to face.”

She didn’t respond immediately. “Yeah, maybe I’m making it sound worse than it was. It wasn’t totally bad. I enjoyed the successes I had. It just didn’t get me anywhere.”

She was doing the work. I watched, fascinated.

“Yeah, sometimes I forget. I get so down on myself. I start thinking I’m hopeless. But that’s silly. I’ve done a lot in my life.”

I sat back, took another sip, and smiled.

She didn’t speak for a few seconds and then sat up straight. “You know. I’m an accomplished person. I’m capable of change. I don’t have to be trapped by old habits that don’t work for me anymore. I’m glad I decided to come see you.”

Something in me loosed—a small release I hadn’t realized I had been holding. I steadied my breath before the feeling could take shape.

I glanced at the clock. We had already passed the allotted time. The moment of truth had arrived. I’d only worked in clinics and had never had to ask a client for payment. Things were now different—I was a businessman.

I stiffened my spine and began with the easy part. “I would like to see you weekly. Would this time on Tuesdays work for you?”

She pulled her calendar out of her purse as she nodded. Now was the time I’d been dreading. I didn’t want to make it any bigger than it was and did my best to sound casual. “We discussed my fee over the phone. How will you be paying today?”

I did my best to hide my relief when she dipped back into her purse.

As she was leaving, I took a moment to enjoy the feeling that washed over me. She was a client, just as the many others I had worked with during my training. Her issues were somewhat less concrete and immediate, but her suffering was just as real. I could do this!

Linda’s Journal

March 3

I finally got around to seeing a shrink. My life just seems so dull, but I really don’t see how this nerdy guy is going to help. He was nice enough and seemed to understand what was bothering me. I just don’t know how he could challenge me enough to make a difference.

I think at first I intimidated him. That’s the last thing I expected. Without giving it a lot of thought, I had taken extra care in getting ready. I guess, somehow, wearing nice clothes and make up gave me a sense, like wearing a coat of armor. I came in not knowing what I was walking into, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I certainly wasn’t going to let him get to me. I think it worked.

It actually made me feel good about myself. I’ve spent so much of my life wearing tennis clothes and hanging out with my friends at the club. I haven’t really been around unfamiliar men, or any men other than Rick, that much. I was glad that he seemed to take my unhappiness seriously. He did seem to really hear me.

I’m a bit uneasy. I came right out and said something I hadn’t really admitted, even to myself. I just plain don’t feel good about the life I’m leading. That’s a horrible thing to have to face. I do like that he didn’t seem to judge me, though.

I think I’ll give him a try. He seems nice enough, and I think he has good intentions. I just wish he were a little stronger and more dynamic. I guess it’s not easy to find a shrink like that. As I think about it, I know how I would have reacted. I’m a strong woman. The last thing I want is someone telling me how to live my life.

When Rick belittled me for seeing him, I nearly hit the roof. Where does he get off criticizing me? He expects me to be a perfect, mindless wife with no purpose in life other than to please him. It’s almost funny that he complained about my wasting money seeing a psychologist considering the way that he throws money away on his toys. It’s obvious that he could care less about what’s important to me.

Author’s Note: Thank you for reading the opening chapter. New chapters are being added regularly. A Table of Contents is available at drnealritter.com.

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