Author's note:
Warning: This story is mostly dialogue between a therapist and a patient. Many people dislike stories with a lot of dialogue, so I felt it only fitting to warn you.
Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy.
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I fought to keep my annoyance from showing on my face. It's often a struggle to keep a professional, detached demeanor with new patients. That's especially true when dealing with people like Katrina.
Yes, you heard me right: Katrina. As in, the devastating storm that almost wiped New Orleans off the map. It's kind of ironic that she would have this name given what I was beginning to understand about her. She was certainly a force to be reckoned with, and that's putting it as mildly as I can.
Katrina is strikingly pretty; yet it seemed to be a glassed over, hard-nosed beauty; kind of like a mannequin. She wore perfect fitting, expensive, attire. Her fitted suit pants hugged her hips without being obscenely tight. Her blazer jacket and her silk blouse also accentuated her beauty in a classy, sexy manner. Even the nail polish on her perfectly manicured hands seemed expensive.
However, her demeanor completely contradicted her poised, ladylike appearance. Her nonverbal communication was arrogant and aggressive. Her eyes looked directly at me when she spoke, as if she were challenging me. She sat in the middle of couch, which in itself was unusual. Most people who have an entire couch to themselves tend to choose either side with the armrest. But Katrina planted herself in the center cushion, as if she were taking ownership of it. With one leg crossed over the other, arms crossed over her lap, and a condescending smirk plastered on her face, she sat there as if ready to do battle.
I believe the term that men would use for her is "Ice Queen". Some others with less tact would say "Queen Bitch".
A lot of times new patients feel on edge and nervous. Some feel like they have to get their therapists to like them, or at least not think badly of them. Others want some sort of validation that they were right in doing whatever they did, or were innocent victims in whatever happened to them. This makes them defensive. In people like Kat, they over compensate by giving displays of bravado.
Yet, Katrina was a little different. Her hostility seemed to be more rooted in internal anger. At the moment, it was directed at her ex-husband. Misdirected is actually a more appropriate word. One of the most important things that I have learned was this: people are rarely angry at what they are focusing their rage on. It's like tooth pain. Sometimes the pain is felt in a tooth that's not the one that's bad. They call it reflected pain and in my line of business, anger works the same way.
"So, Katrina..."
"Call me Kat, doc. We went over this."
Trying to control the flow of the conversation. She insists that I call her by her name of choice, but then she calls me "doc" instead of Beth or Dr. Carter. She wants me to know that she's in control. Let her have this one. For now.
"I'm sorry.
Kat
, last week was your first session with me. We did a lot of getting to know each other, but we really didn't touch on exactly what brought you here. Since you scheduled and came to a second session, I assume you want to start digging a little bit deeper. So, why don't we start with why you're here?"
I noticed her foot tapping nervously on the floor, which betrayed the controlled image that she wanted to convey. However, she made a show of rolling her eyes as she groaned like she was annoyed. "I'm here because my ex-husband is a pussy. A giant, period bleeding, tampon wearing, pussy."
Colorful language for a woman with a Stanford education. She's overselling this act. She's trying to get me out of my comfort zone by being extreme.
"Okay Kat. Tell me, what do you mean when you say he's a pussy? Describe what makes him a pussy."
I took note of the brief surprise that flashed on her face. She expected me to replace her vulgar language with softer words. Normally I would have. I detest vulgar language, and find it counterproductive to successful therapy. However, I sensed that if I did that with her, she would use that tactic as a wall to hide behind whenever things got rough. I wanted to show her that her antics didn't scare me in the slightest.
"Well doc, Bran is a pussy because when we were married, he had no pride. No fight. Instead of fighting to be a man, he put his panties on, tucked his dick between his legs, and did the pee pee dance!" She said, attempting to up the ante. Her smirk let me know that it was deliberate.
"As entertaining as I'm sure that was to say, you still haven't answered the question." I said evenly. My face showed nothing but professionalism, as if I were completely unfazed by her blatant attempt to steer this train away from its destination. When I saw unspoken acknowledgement from her, I punctuated my statement with, "But I think you know that, Kat."
Her body language softened, letting me know that she was relenting a little. Her hands fell at her sides as she leaned back in the cushion.
She was testing the power balance of our relationship. She was, after all, a lawyer. I expected this much from her. My goal was to show her that this wasn't a power struggle, and certainly wasn't an adversarial hearing. She didn't need to get the upper hand. I wasn't here to be won over by her. My job was to help her get some perspective over whatever brought her here.
"Why don't you start by telling me the things that frustrated you about your ex." I said invitingly.
Her face flashed something that looked like sadness. She seemed determined not to show any emotions, so it went away quickly.
"For one, he never fought for anything. Every argument ended with him just leaving the room. He didn't even yell back. He used to tell me that we weren't in a courtroom, and I didn't have to batter him like a hostile witness." Then she huffed mockingly as she said, "He's never seen me interrogate a hostile witness. If he did, he would know that he got off EASY."
Her tone was full of anger and sarcasm, but it was laced with something more. Regret, sadness, maybe even a little bit of remorse.
"What do you think he should have done when the two of you argued?"
Her face screwed up with a mixture of emotions. "I don't know. Fight back. Yell. Something! Show that he had balls for Christ's sakes!"
"Is that what you feel real men do in an argument? Fight and argue?"
She shot me a glare, then it turned into a smirk. "I see what you're doing doc. Next, you're gonna tell me that Bran was right to not argue. Then you'll probably tell me stories about husbands that do fight, and their wives turn into domestic violence victims."
She's trying to anticipate what I'll say in response to her. This keeps her in control.
"Actually Kat, I was going to agree with you, but for different reasons. Fighting isn't something that 'real men' do, but it is something that all people do when they're passionate about something. They fight to defend what they care about. People often believe that a perfect relationship is one with no disagreement; no fighting. In reality, it's quite the opposite. If there are two people who never argue about anything, then that could only mean one of three things. One – one or both people in the relationship aren't being completely honest about what bothers them. They are just agreeing for the sake of peace. Two – one or both people don't care enough about the relationship to waste energy fighting. Three – one of the people in the relationship is being oppressed to the point of submission."
