Thinking of youby Anna Blundy / July 18, 2013 / Leave a comment
Published in August 2013 issue of Prospect Magazine
My friend, who has been in psychoanalysis five times a week for the past year, puts his coffee down and glowers at me as if his analyst’s behaviour is my fault—which, given that I’m training to be a therapist and encouraged him to have analysis in the first place, perhaps it is.
“Why does she keep asking me how I feel about her? Why does it all have to be about me being late and how that denigrates her? I don’t feel anything about her for God’s sake. I pay her, I go, I talk about my stuff. What more does she want?”
I sigh. “You get all emotional about the woman who sits on that bench on the Heath. How can your analyst be the only person in the whole world with whom you have no emotional involvement? And of course you’re denigrating her if you’re late. If she offered you a million pounds to be on time you’d be on time. She’s pointing out that you make unconscious choices.”
He harrumphs, resentful of me for ever having mentioned therapy to him in the first place, holding me responsible for his enslavement to the miserable process.
“Anyway. It would be stupid to start feeling anything. She doesn’t care about me. It’s a business transaction,” he says.
“Aha!” I pounce, pleased he got to the point so quickly.
The cynical and very vociferously voiced belief about therapists is that they are charlatans, mystics and probably morons who take your money, laugh about your problems over boozy dinner tables and gleefully do up their house in France on the proceeds of their patients’ pain. The idea that a therapist’s head is very much occupied by his or her patients, both in and out of the session time, is not one that gets much airtime, but it’s largely true. The news that my friend’s analyst probably has him in her mind most of the time, in one way or another, seemed to stun him.