Session Eight

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My concerns about my upcoming marriage have grown from a mild, nagging cloud of uncertainty to a solid, sharp wall of worry. For me, the development of our relationship provided a sense of accomplishment similar to what I felt earning my Ph.D. I know that they aren’t comparable, but the feeling is.

I got started in my new office and have enjoyed watching the slow but steady growth of my practice. There’s only one problem. Where’s the person I wanted to share it with? She’s either angry or absent. Take your pick. Since I can’t control either, I have to deal with the unproductive and unending thoughts that circle through my head.

Have I not been a good partner? Maybe I wasn’t sufficiently supportive. I wish I hadn’t complained about her coming home late, night after night, but it’s too late to take it back now.

I still don’t know what to do with her silliness about Linda. As I think about it, I find that I’m getting mad. How dare Anna question my professionalism? The fact of Linda’s being exceptionally pretty has nothing to do with me. I can’t control how my clients look. Her appearance certainly hasn’t affected me.

***

I had to rush to the office and was feeling frazzled. There had been an accident on Hwy 16, and it seemed like forever before the police finally cleared the way. My natural impatience was getting the better of me. I don’t keep clients’ numbers in my phone and had no way of letting Linda know I would be late.

I rushed through the office door with my thoughts still whirling. I took a deep breath and centered myself.

Linda’s quick smile was soon replaced by a frown as her eyes turned to her shoes. Waving aside my apology for being late, she wasted no time with an opening that seemed planned. She winced before starting to speak. “I did a dumb thing telling Rick, didn’t I?”

I kept my face expressionless as I waited to grab her eyes. “Linda, what are you really asking me?”

Her eyes darted around the office. She leaned toward the door. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Be honest with me and with yourself. What do you think I meant?”

She chuckled and shook her head. “Why are you being so hard on me? I told you it was dumb. Can we please just move on?”

“I think there’s more here.”

She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “Can’t I use any of my feminine wiles on you? “

“Linda, aren’t we past all that? What’s the answer?”

Her eyes searched the office before returning to me. She then looked me straight in the eye and said simply, “honesty.”

I smiled lightly. “Why do you think that’s so difficult to say?”

She said quietly, “I really don’t know.” Then in a stronger voice, “It doesn’t make any sense. I’ve always thought of myself as a very honest person. Why do I have such a hard time being totally honest with you?”

“That’s a good question.”

She laughed to herself while playing with the clasp on her purse. “What’s going on with you today? You seem different. Are you mad at me?”

My impulse was to neutralize the growing tension. I didn’t.

After a brief wait, she asked, “Does that mean you’re not mad?”

I looked at her, determined not to reveal my thoughts. I felt the dampness in my armpits.

She finally looked up, saying, “I’ve never experienced anything like this before. You’re not giving me any hints about how to respond. I don’t know what to do or say.”

I held my tongue. Praise the Lord, my stomach stayed silent.

She looked me in the eye. “I see what you’re doing. I kind of don’t like it. But I kind of do. You’re making me look inside myself to find the answer.”

I nodded.

“It makes me be honest with myself.”

I smiled.

The tension in her face melted. “I get upset when you don’t say anything. Now I know why. It forces me to look deeper. That can be hard. But it feels good after.”

“Were you being dishonest with me before?”

“I didn’t think I was at the time, but now I’m not so sure. Looking back, I’ve got to say that you’ve been really patient with me.”

“Linda, how could I expect you or anyone else to be more honest with me than they are with themselves?”

She looked at my diplomas and then at the door before saying, “But I can’t imagine not being honest with myself.”

“Let’s go back to the reason you came to see me in the first place. You weren’t clinically depressed, but you were despondent. You were losing your ability to enjoy life. Do you have any idea why that was the case?”

Her words came slowly as she looked past me. “It just didn’t seem like my life had any meaning. I would get up every day and do the same old things, but there just didn’t seem to be any purpose to it all. Then to make it more confusing, everyone was telling me how great my life was.”

As she spoke, an unfamiliar sensation ran through me. It was a warmth—a glow— but it was much more than that. I suddenly found myself in a place I had rarely touched. Awe rose in me as I accepted what I couldn’t name.

I tuned in to her in a way I had never managed with anyone before. She sat smiling, attentive, and engaged. The responsibility of what was before me was staggering.

Old doubts began to surface. Was I imagining this? Could I be responding to what I wanted rather than what she needed? And beneath it, a quieter fear: was I ready to step beyond the safe role of a therapist?

Her eyes fixed on me. “What’s going on with you? You changed. Are you okay?”

“Linda, I’m more than okay. I just got a glimpse of where we might be headed.”

“Yeah, I felt something too…like a door opening.”

“Something definitely shifted,” I said. “As far as what to make of it, I think that’s up to the two of us.”

She hesitated. “Yeah, I kind of agree. I started seeing you because I was mildly dissatisfied with the way I was living. Now I’m thinking that there might be a whole lot more than I had bargained for.”

A thrill ran through me. “I agree. There is an entirely new direction for us. It’s exciting.”

She drew back. “Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I just meant that we could explore different topics.”

Heat rose on my cheeks. “Well, why don’t we go back to what you mentioned earlier. Where are you with your lifestyle?”

She softened. “I don’t mean you were wrong. You just got a little ahead of me.”

“Linda, you’re right. I got caught up in my own reaction. Honesty needs to be a two-way street.”

She leaned forward. For a moment, I nearly panicked— she looked like she was about to hug me.

She said, “Thank you for saying that. I like it when you talk with me at my level.”

Then it hit me. Deep down, I had wanted her to hug me. I had longed for her to relieve my confusion.

“You caught me,” I said. “I had an epiphany and didn’t know what to do with it. I didn’t want my stuff to spill into you.”

She leaned even closer. “I want to hear more.”

I tried to piece together my thoughts. “I’m torn. Our working together has reached a point beyond anything I was taught. It brings up a lot of role confusion. I want to make sure this direction is right for you.”

I had started to look away, and she waited for my gaze to return. “Bill, I can’t tell you how much your honesty means to me.”

I pulled back slightly. “What you just said—that’s the thing. I want us to be honest in that way, but I can’t allow a dual role.”

She frowned. “I’m a little scared. I don’t want to have to stop seeing you.”

“I don’t want that either,” I said. “I’m still trying to sort through what’s happening.”

An awkward silence developed. She suddenly broke it with a wide smile. “Maybe we can redefine our relationship.”

I shuddered. “That it’s the easiest trap for a therapist to fall into. You’ve trusted me with a special responsibility. I don’t take that lightly.”

“But I’m releasing you from that role.”

I shook my head. “Linda, it just doesn’t work that way. Do you know how many therapists have rationalized their way into romantic or business relationships?”

She sat up. “But they’re not us.”

“We’re all vulnerable,” I said. “That’s why boundaries exist.”

She leaned toward me. “Didn’t you feel it? Something extraordinary happened. We can’t just let it go.”

“Yes, I felt it. Whatever it was, it was real. It’s something we can’t ignore or pretend away.”

As she spoke, she seemed to glow. “You’re finally accepting what’s right in front of us.”

I said, “I’ve never been in this position. I feel like I’m at a crossroads—maybe one already chosen for us.”

She nodded vigorously. “That’s exactly what I’m thinking. There’s something here larger than either of us.”

I said, “If we take a different path, it has to be explicit and mutual.”

She released a breath. “I’m with you. Let’s develop some ground rules. Let’s start with no romance.”

“Good. And structure—appointments only, no meetings outside the office.”

She hesitated. “Well, I guess that would be okay—for now.”

I looked her straight in the eye and said, “No. The boundaries would have to be unshakeable. And our purpose would need to be firmly established. What would you say it should be?”

Her eyes opened wide as she spoke. “Mutual discovery. Not treatment. Something bigger than us.”

I began thinking about all the implications of what I was agreeing to. I kept saying to myself, “You know better.” Yet, I was pulled, almost beyond my will. Was I excusing an ethical lapse—or was I responding to something beyond my usual thinking? Was this all coming together too neatly? My thoughts pinwheeled.

I almost didn’t hear, when she called, “Bill.”

I looked up and saw her watching me closely, her expression tight. “Where did you just go?”

Heat rose in my face. “I…drifted. I was trying to make sense of all this.”

“Not with me, you weren’t. You left the room.”

Her words landed hard. She wasn’t angry—she was hurt.

I said, “You’re right. I got caught in my own head. I didn’t mean to pull away.”

She leaned forward, speaking softly. “Then stay here with me. Talk to me, not the rules.”

I laughed uncomfortably before sitting back. “Yeah, I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed.” I stopped to stroke my chin. “I see such opportunity, but I’m also feeling the responsibility involved with veering off the established path. Maintaining that level of honesty won’t be easy.”

Her voice was quiet and delicate. “I hear you, and I agree. And if I catch either of us even starting to violate a boundary, I will speak up.”

“One last thing. To keep us grounded, you’ll need to maintain the client role to a degree. Not as an imbalance—but as a way to keep us focused.”

Linda’s Journal

April 21

I get chills just thinking about my last session with Bill. What was that all about? I just can’t put my finger on it. Ever since I’ve had a strange feeling—sort of a cross between fear and excitement. I’m not sure if I like it, but I keep feeling the pull.

I’m intrigued about whatever it is that’s happening. And the honesty of our last session—it was palpable. I feel like I can tell Bill anything, as long as it’s sincere. I’ve felt for some time that there was something special about our relationship. Now he’s confirmed it.

This whole honesty idea has had me going. I’ve been looking at all the things I say and do—my thoughts as well. It’s kind of like that stalking thing Bill asked me to do earlier. More and more, I find that I’m able to watch myself. It’s kind of like watching a play. The play is interesting, and to my surprise, I can be more fully involved if I’m not overly invested in the outcome.

Instead of taking other people and myself for granted, I’m watching what happens like I’m seeing it for the first time. One of the things I’ve learned is that my friends don’t have it together nearly as much as I thought. They put a lot of energy into keeping up a front. What’s really interesting is that the front isn’t just to fool other people. They also use it to fool themselves.

And here’s the good part. On Thursday, Rick even asked how my day had been. What’s more, he listened to what I had to say. I found myself starting to prattle and cut it short. Looking at it from that angle, I could see why he tuned me out. I’m setting honesty as a goal with him as well. As far as the bad part, and there is one, I’m finding that the gossip at the club simply disgusts me.

Rick’s Journal

April 24

Thank God the insurance company decided to settle. I didn’t make a lot, but at least it covered my expenses. They were bluffing as usual, but I was really getting nervous. This business is really getting old.

I took Linda out for dinner for the first time in months. We actually enjoyed each other’s company. We both made an effort to avoid pushing buttons, and that really helped. I have to argue all day to make a living. I sure hate doing it at night as well.

I had forgotten what it’s like to come home to a loving wife. She’s been doing little extra things that really make a difference. It feels so good to be loved. It would be great to get the sex revved up again, but I guess I’ll need to be patient. I’ve already learned a painful lesson about pushing when she isn’t ready. I wish she weren’t so hard to read. I’m sure she can tell that I’m lusting after her. As soon as I get the slightest encouragement, I’m ready to do my part.

I still wonder what she talks about in therapy. It’s funny now, thinking back on it. I was actually jealous of her shrink. At least I don’t have to worry about any threat from him. He knows I would break his scrawny neck if he ever tried anything. There’s no way Linda would ever let him get away with it anyway.

Linda seems lighter these days. Maybe she is getting something out of seeing him. Is it possible that I prejudged this therapy idea? It’s just hard for me to see how sitting down and talking to a stranger could make that much difference. At least one thing is for sure—when she is happier, I’m happier.

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