“No, it didn’t seem like the right time.” He stared directly at me but tugged at the cuffs of his dress shirt.
“Hmm. When do you think would be the right time?”
“That’s an interesting question, Mrs. Carter.”
My earlier attempt at changing my attitude evaporated, and I found myself slipping into a defensive pose. Intellectually, I knew if he made me feel this way, odds were he made others feel the same, with his attachment style being a bit disorganized. I could also recognize that not every client and therapist were a perfect fit. I spoke of this often in intakes, an advocate for finding the right therapist for them. And logically, I recognized his lack of effort frustrated me since he was taking a spot from a client who might be more engaged.
I knew all of these things, but I couldn’t separate them personally from me for some reason. He got under my skin in a way a client never had before, and I didn’t like it. Breathing deeply, I channeled my inner meditative self into staying present and not letting my emotions control me.
“It is an interesting question, you’re right. Something else I’ve been wondering about, Dayton. You sought me out because you said you wanted help and had some family problems you were working to resolve. Yet, it’s been five weeks now, and I feel like I’m doing all the heavy lifting. While everyone’s progress is different, there does have to be effort, and I’m just not sure if it’s there on your part. There comes a time in each therapeutic relationship where you have to ask yourself if it’s the right fit for you. I think we’re at that point, Dayton.”
His faux fidgeting had stopped, and he watched me, no emotion on his face, not even a fake one. I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees as I clasped my hands together. “Do you think this is the right therapy relationship for you, Dayton?”
He didn’t answer right away, and I watched every movement he made, looking for any clues of real emotions. When a smile spread across his face, I sat back, the expression jarring.
“You’re right, you’re right, Mrs. Carter. I apologize. I guess you can say I’ve been holding myself back, afraid of judgment.” He babbled now, a complete opposite to before, more of the manic energy I’d felt from the first session leaching through.
“You see, Mrs. Carter. I did a bad thing. I hurt my family, and I’m worried they won’t forgive me.”
Calming myself, I steadied my breathing as I took him in. “It’s common to feel like you’ve done something unforgivable, and I find that once people share the thing they’re so worried about, not only do they feel lighter, but they’re able to heal from it. Would you like to start small today and give me a tiny detail?”
“Hmm,” he paused, rubbing his jaw. “You make a valid point. I guess the problem started for me when my father shot a man in front of me on my eighth birthday.”
Shocked at his disclosure, I struggled to keep my face neutral as I tried to dissect what he’d given me. “That had to be scary, something that big happening at such a young age. What do you consider to be the problem that started from there?”
“Ahh, you’re good.” He pointed at me, his finger waving in the air as he exuberantly smiled in my direction. “I expected you to react in shock or fear. You surprised me, Mrs. Carter.”
“It takes a lot to shock me, Dayton. I’ve heard a lot inside these walls, and I’ve never judged a person for the choices they’ve made.”
“Hmm, I imagine you have heard some things. Anything good? Juicy?”
“I’m sorry, Dayton, but you know the rules. I’m not allowed to discuss my other clients with you. Let’s focus back on what you consider to be the problem.”
“Nah, I’m good for today.”
He leaned back, crossing his leg at his knee, his arms splayed on the back of the couch. It was an odd pose, but nothing about Dayton made sense, so it fit with his whole dynamic. I wasn’t sure how I felt about things. We still hadn’t moved forward or made any gains, but he’d shared something with me. I couldn’t punish him now by terminating sessions.
When the hour finally ended, I was exhausted, the emotional roller coaster he’d taken me on having drained me.
“So, have you decided if you’re going to keep seeing me, Mrs. Carter?”
“Well, Dayton, I think that remains to be seen. You made a step today, and I’m proud of you for doing that. We need to use this momentum and keep pushing forward, okay?”
“Sure thing, Mrs. Carter. I’m glad our time together doesn’t have to end yet.”
I smiled, the gesture strained as I walked him out. Something about today gave me the heebie-jeebies, and I wanted to shower it off my skin. Closing down everything, I found a lighter in between the couch cushions. It had some sort of crest on it and the initials D.M. Assuming it was Dayton’s, I placed it on my desk, so I’d remember to give it back to him next week.
Feeling exhausted, I opted out of Barre and headed home. Texting Jude, I told him I’d pick up dinner on my way, the action making me happy to know I wasn’t alone anymore. If all the pain I’d endured for the past five years resulted in me finding Jude, then I could bear it.
Jude made it worth it.