8:40 AM
Session 1: THE COMPLAINT
He arrived at therapy in middle age with a surprisingly long list of people who had disappointed him.
Some deserved their place on it.
A former lover. A relative. Two employers. Several friends. People who underestimated him. People who used him. People who disappeared when usefulness ran out.
He wasn't looking for sympathy.
He wanted an explanation.
"I'm beginning to think I attract these people."
The therapist didn't disagree.
That bothered him.
For most of the hour, he presented evidence. Names, incidents, betrayals, contradictions. He was articulate and occasionally funny. Years of thinking about these things had made him an excellent prosecutor.
The therapist listened.
Finally she asked:
"What happens when somebody disappoints you?"
He looked confused.
"I just spent forty minutes telling you."
"No. You told me what they did. What happens inside you?"
Silence.
He hadn't come prepared for that question.
Anger, obviously.
But beneath the anger?
He searched.
The answer embarrassed him.
"They become different."
"Different how?"
"I don't know. It's like I suddenly see who they really are."
She wrote something down.
He disliked that too.
The session ended without diagnosis, revelation or reconciliation. Eight people remained guilty. Possibly nine, depending on how he now felt about the therapist.
Walking to his car, however, one sentence followed him.
They become different.
Object relations hadn't been mentioned yet.
Neither had splitting.
There would be plenty of time for names.
For now, the therapist had done something considerably more irritating.
She had made him notice.
