New here? Begin reading Session One
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.