Maybe You Should Talk to Someon - Lori Gottlieb Page 0,50

the one doing the abandoning. She had control, but ended up alone. In therapy, she learned that the mystery she was trying to solve was larger than whether or not her father committed suicide. It was also the mystery of who her father was when he was alive—and who she became as a result of that.

People want to be understood and to understand, but for most of us, our biggest problem is that we don’t know what our problem is. We keep stepping in the same puddle. Why do I do the very thing that will guarantee my own unhappiness over and over again?

I cry and cry, wondering how it’s possible that I can cry so long. I wonder if I’ve become massively dehydrated. And still more tears appear. Before I know it, Wendell is patting his legs to indicate that our session is over. I take a breath and notice that I feel strangely calm now. Sobbing freely in Wendell’s office was like being wrapped in a blanket, warm and safe and separate from everything happening out there. I think about the Jack Kornfield quote again, the part about self-acceptance, but still I start to judge: Did I just pay somebody to watch me cry for forty-five minutes straight?

Yes and no.

Wendell and I had a conversation, even if no words were exchanged. He watched me grieve, and he didn’t try to make things more comfortable by interrupting or analyzing the issue. He let me tell my story in whatever way I needed to today.

As I dry my tears and stand to leave, I think about how whenever Wendell has asked about other aspects of my life—what else was happening while Boyfriend and I were dating, what my life was like before I met Boyfriend—I’ve given a pat response (family, work, friends; nothing to see here, folks!), always returning the topic to Boyfriend. But now, tossing my tissues in the trash can, I realize that what I’ve told Wendell isn’t really complete.

I haven’t lied, exactly. But I haven’t told the whole story either.

Let’s just say that I left out some details.

Part Two

Honesty is stronger medicine than sympathy, which may console but often conceals.

—Gretel Ehrlich

18

Fridays at Four

We’re in my colleague Maxine’s office—skirted chairs, distressed wood, vintage fabrics, and soft shades of cream. It’s my turn to present a case in today’s consultation group, and I want to talk about a patient I can’t seem to help.

Is it her? Is it me? That’s what I’m here to find out.

Becca is thirty years old, and she came to me a year ago because of difficulty with her social life. She did well at her work but felt hurt that her peers excluded her, never inviting her to join them for lunch or drinks. Meanwhile, she’d just dated a string of men who seemed excited at first but broke it off after two months.

Was it her? Was it them? That’s what she’d come to therapy to find out.

This isn’t the first time I’ve brought up Becca on a Friday at four, when our weekly group meets. Though not required, consultation groups are a fixture of many therapists’ lives. Working alone, we don’t have the benefit of input from others, whether that’s praise for a job well done or feedback on how to do better. Here we examine not just our patients but ourselves in relation to our patients.

In our group, Andrea can say to me, “That patient sounds like your brother. That’s why you’re responding that way.” I can help Ian manage his feelings about the patient who begins her sessions by reporting her horoscope (“I can’t stand this woo-woo shit,” he says). Group consultation is a system—imperfect, but valuable—of checks and balances to ensure that we’re maintaining objectivity, homing in on the important themes, and not missing anything obvious in the treatment.

Admittedly, there’s also banter on these Friday afternoons—often along with food and wine.

“It’s the same dilemma,” I tell the group—Maxine, Andrea, Claire, and Ian, our lone male. Everyone has blind spots, I add, but what’s notable about Becca is that she seems to have so little curiosity about herself.

The members of the group nod. Many people begin therapy more curious about others than about themselves—Why does my husband do this? But in each conversation, we sprinkle seeds of curiosity, because therapy can’t help people who aren’t curious about themselves. At some point I might even say something like “I wonder why I seem to be more curious about you than you are