"She is someone who fought hard to escape an appalling background, and the day she finished her Master’s at Oxford her husband gave her a necklace in a Tiffany box. “I felt like a fairy tale princess,” she tells me, looking down to avoid my imagined disdain. "by Anna Blundy / April 23, 2015 / Leave a comment
Recently a patient brought in her own takeaway coffee and I was considering making some crass interpretation about needing to sustain herself during an upcoming two-week break from therapy. Then I thought, perhaps she’s mirroring me, demonstrating a connection between us. (Obviously, I’m aware that she is also just bringing a coffee to a morning session, my own drink a tacit permission, but there is always another level. Or two).
In the preceding session she’d struggled with a word she found difficult to translate into English. “You assume I won’t understand if you say it in your native language,” I said. She laughed. “English people never speak any languages! No offence.”
I do, in fact, speak her native language, though she has no way of knowing that. On the other hand, it was odd that she was so offensively sure I wouldn’t. “You’re cross because nobody can really understand every-thing you say?” I tried. “You feel like the only person in the world.” (She has said this herself). She seemed to relax a bit after that and then today here she was with her coffee.