The Writing Room (in progress)

This is not a book to be understood before it is experienced.

If something in these pages moves you, pause. Let the feeling arrive before you try to put it into words.

Not everything will seem meaningful at first. Stay with it. At times, what matters may reveal itself quietly—less as something explained, and more as something recognized.

Linda

Session One

It was the day I had been working toward for years.

After a decade of training, I was about to see my very first private client in my own office. The furniture was new, but no personal touches had been added. Everything felt slightly unreal, as if I had stepped into someone else’s life.

I had imagined this moment so many times that I thought I would recognize it. Instead, I found myself looking around and wondering. Could this be what I worked so hard for?

The thought caught me off guard. It didn’t belong here. This was supposed to be the beginning.

A different set of questions followed quickly behind it. What if I’m not good enough? What if I can’t help people?

I could feel my heart picking up, each beat a little harder than the last.

My client was already two minutes late.

I stood there for a moment, listening to the silence, aware of how much I had invested in being exactly where I was standing—and how little that seemed to steady me.

Then I heard the front door open.

The sound was small, almost ordinary. Still, it cut through everything.

She was here.

She looked around my office, pausing briefly with my diplomas before sitting gracefully. She leaned back and crossed her legs, all the while keeping her purse in her lap.

I took a minute to settle. Tailored outfit, perfect hair, lipstick, heels, a hint of perfume—or was I just imagining that to complete the image?

I began with my usual, open-ended question. "Linda, what brings you here today?"

"I was talking to some of my friends at the club. They said they had seen a psychologist and thought it was worthwhile. I decided, what the heck. I have plenty of time on my hands and nothing better to do, so I looked in the paper and saw you had just opened a practice."

I settled back in my seat, finally beginning to relax. "I’m glad you did. As it happens, you’re my very first client here, so welcome."

She smiled but said nothing.

I started to stiffen. I said, possibly a little too soon, "I’m looking forward to getting to know you. How about telling me something about your life? Who is Linda?"

She looked around until her gaze settled on the door. "What is this… like a philosophy class?" She crossed her legs and looked at the bare walls. I’m just not sure it’s going to be worth my time."

I gritted my teeth and waited to see what direction she would take.

Finally, she leaned back partway and said, "I’m no one special. My life is actually pretty routine. I sleep late quite a bit. The housekeeper wakes me up most days, so I get dressed and go to the gym."

She stopped and looked at me. "Do you really need to know all this? It doesn’t have anything to do with why I called."

My stomach growled. The sound seemed to echo across the room.

She stole a glance at the door and then back at me. I felt myself start to breathe again as she continued. "After my workout, I have brunch or lunch, depending on the time. I spend a lot of time in the afternoon with phone calls." She stopped briefly and looked away before adding, "and social media."

I smiled briefly. "What’s it like to tell me about it?"

She finally leaned all the way back. After a brief laugh, she said, "I hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought. But coming right out and saying it, I feel a little embarrassed."

"There’s something about the way you live that you don’t feel quite right about?"

She shook her head a single time. "Well, it’s pretty much what I always wanted."

I leaned forward slightly. "I’m getting a sense that something’s off."

She looked away and began talking. "Well, it’s really okay. I’m very busy. Just yesterday, I met with several friends for lunch. They told me all about their kids. One of them, Sarah, is very proud because her son was selected to play on the varsity basketball team. Another friend, Beth, well, I guess it’s a bit different with her. She and her husband are having problems. She just goes on and on about them, but she won’t leave him. She just likes to talk."

My inner stopwatch was ticking. I had to interrupt. "Linda, what are you really telling me?"

She sat back with an expression almost like a smirk. "Oh. I thought you wanted to hear about my life?"

A brief wave of tension ran through me. I hoped it didn’t show. "I was hoping for something a little deeper."

Her speech was uneven. She began slowly. "I’m not sure what you expect." Then much louder, "Just what do you want from me?"

The room was quiet for a minute. "It’s not about what I want."

A faint smile began to appear and then suddenly vanished. "Oh, I guess you’re right. I shouldn’t be wasting your time."

I relaxed and smiled. "Linda, is that what I was saying?"

She looked at my diplomas before returning her gaze to me. "I guess I can see what you’re getting at. It’s uncomfortable."

I nodded. My smile stayed in place. Just not as fully.

She started opening and closing the clasp on her purse. "Then I guess I don’t know what to say."

My eyebrows raised slightly. "You don’t?"

Her first word came out slowly. "Well, I guess I kind of do." She paused as she resumed looking around the room. "I just don’t feel comfortable saying it."

The previous awkwardness was replaced by a sense of uncertainty.

She finally said, "Okay. I don’t much care for my life. Is that what you were waiting to hear? I guess you’re happy now."

I simply sat with her.

"Well, that’s not really true. I have a great life. There’s nothing wrong with it. I’m actually really lucky." She winced. "It’s me. There must be something wrong with me. I guess I just don’t know how to be happy."

I uncrossed my legs and leaned toward her. "Wow, that’s a tough thing to say."

She looked at me as she had done before. Why did she now look so different? Varying emotions played out on her face, but none took hold[NR1] . I fought my impulse to stare.

This time, she was the one who stayed silent. The room became unsettled. There was a sense that the next few seconds would determine our course.

I was floundering… a sense of excitement mixed with panic. I had to say something. "I admire you."

She sat back quickly as she grabbed her purse again. She then said, "Why would you say that?"

"It must be a hard thing to face… and even harder to come right out and say."

A faint smile appeared. "Yeah, I guess it was a big step. It seems kind of silly. I don’t know why it was so hard for me. I’m surprised. I actually feel relieved, now that I’ve said it."

"Any idea why it was so hard for you?"

She stared at the floor. She brought her hand up to cover her eyes. Then she moved it down to partially cover her mouth even as she spoke. "I don’t have any right to feel bad."

I leaned toward her. "Do people have to earn their feelings?"

There was an edge in her voice as she spoke. "You know what I mean. If you’re going to make fun of me, I’m not going to waste my time."

I felt my gut clench. I started to apologize but stopped myself. "It’s a delicate time. You were reaching inside and sharing something with me that‘s been very private. Thank you for that."

She looked up and smiled openly. "Thank you for hearing me. You don’t think I’m crazy because I’m not happy?"

"That seems to be a question that’s been bothering you."

She stared at me. "Well, duh."

I simply smiled at her. "Here’s my question. Is happiness an inside thing or an outside thing?"

She uncrossed her legs and sat back. "I guess I was getting them mixed up. I’ve always worked so hard to make things right on the outside. I guess I haven’t paid enough attention to the inside part. And as I think of it, that’s the part that really matters."

"Let’s talk a little about what your life is like."

"It’s okay. I mean it’s pretty much what I’d dreamed of."

"Is it what you thought it would be? I’m asking about the inside part."

She gathered herself and shifted her weight further away from me. "Look, I hardly know you. You’re asking questions that aren’t easy to answer."

I took a breath as I shifted my weight. "Isn’t that the idea?"

She looked up slowly, still not meeting my eyes. Her voice was faint. "Okay, I guess I need to admit it to myself. I’m bored with my life and my lifestyle. I’m not living for anything anymore. I’m just living."

As she settled back in her chair, I said, "Sounds like something you’ve been living with for a while."

She looked past me with unfocused eyes. "Yeah, I keep hoping it will get better. Yet, I wake up every day to the same stupidity. It’s getting harder and harder. But I don’t want you to think I’m depressed or anything like that. Do you?"

"It’s no wonder you’re asking that question. Maybe we can find the answer."

She smiled. "That’s what I want. I want it more than anything. I don’t want to overturn my life. I just want to feel better. Do you think you can help?"

The question wasn’t unexpected. My response had to be. "If you’re looking for outside help, I’m fresh out."

Rather than saying anything right away, she crossed her legs and began playing with her watch. "I came in not having any idea what to expect. But it certainly wasn’t you. You’re not safe. I like that."

I took a sip of water, determined to appear neutral.

"You’re probably thinking I’m just spoiled and don’t need to be wasting your time. But my life isn’t the problem. It’s me."

I shook my head. "You seem to be looking for a place to land."

She started to object. She then sat back. "Oh, yeah, I get it. I’m bouncing between blaming my dissatisfaction on my outside life and me."

"Yeah, that. And also bouncing about whether you want to let everything out."

She shuffled in her chair, looked away, and then met my gaze. "I didn’t give it a lot of thought when I made the appointment. Maybe I didn’t take it seriously enough. Now I see that maybe I need to."

The tension between us began to ease. I said, "It isn’t easy to look deep inside."

She nodded slowly.

She then slumped in her seat. "I really don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve got the kind of life I always dreamed of, but it doesn’t seem to matter. Nothing seems to matter. Pretty crazy, huh?"

"Is it really crazy?"

A tiny tear appeared in the corner of her eye. "I’ve got it all but feel like I might as well have nothing."

Her words landed with a thud. I said, almost reflexively, "How do you feel about that?"

She abruptly turned her head to look right at me. "How do you think I feel?!"

I gulped, then laughed. "I guess we both feel a little stupid right now."

The tension in her face disappeared. She laughed with me. Short, and certainly not deep, yet meaningful.

She straightened up and took another look at the door. "It wasn’t easy for me to make the call. I didn’t want to come here today." She frowned. "Now that I’m here, I don’t like your questions."

I swallowed hard once again but didn’t say anything.

She settled back in her chair. "I said I was willing. I meant it, but I guess I didn’t really mean it.

"It’s not easy to be so honest."

She stopped for a second before resuming. "I didn’t realize it when I said it, but what I really meant was I would cooperate as long as it wasn’t too hard."

I leaned forward slightly with a smile. "That’s big."

She shook her head slowly with eyes downcast. "Why can’t I be like my friends? They all seem so together. When I say anything about how I feel, they just change the subject."

 Once again, I started to provide a typical shrink response. Instead, I kept my mouth closed.

The tears now started to trickle. "It hurts. In fact, it hurts like hell! I feel so alone. My friends don’t care. To make matters worse, I’ve got this great husband, but he’s the last person who wants to hear how I feel."

I sat there, absorbing the impact of her words.

She suddenly looked up. "Why do I feel this way?"

My stomach growled again. I didn’t move.

She started fiddling with her watch. She then picked up her purse. It looked for a minute like she might throw it at me.

The awkward silence lingered. Suddenly the mask her face had become gave way. "I guess I’m mad at myself. But that doesn’t make any sense. What have I done wrong?"

"You seem intent on blaming yourself."

She looked up at me with eyebrows raised. "What do you mean?"

Ah, it hit me in a wave… a familiar feeling I had hoped for. I was becoming empty. Without realizing it, I’d been too caught up with myself. Now, I was simply being with her. I said, "Are you listening to what you’re saying?"

She began opening and closing the clasp on her purse. "I don’t understand. I always believed that happiness followed if you accomplished your goals."

"Except, it hasn’t worked in quite that way."

She lightly smacked the side of her head. "I can’t believe I’ve been so stupid. Why couldn’t I see it?"

"Are you saying the same thing, just a little differently?"

I felt my fingers holding my pen tighten as I waited for her answer.

For an instant, she sat perfectly still. Her eyes never left mine. Then she smiled. "Whoa, was I ever on the wrong track. I was driving myself to get somewhere. I got there and then didn’t know what to do."

I took a deep breath, and she did the same. "That’s got to be a hard thing to face."

She didn’t respond immediately. "Yeah, maybe I’m making it sound worse than it was. It wasn’t totally bad. I enjoyed the successes I had. It just didn’t get me anywhere."

She was doing the work. I watched, fascinated.

"Yeah, sometimes I forget. I get so down on myself. I start thinking I’m hopeless. But that’s silly. I’ve done a lot in my life."

I sat back, took another sip, and smiled.

She didn’t speak for a few seconds and then sat up straight. "You know. I’m an accomplished person. I’m capable of change. I don’t have to be trapped by old habits that don’t work for me anymore. I’m glad I decided to come see you."

Something in me loosed—a small release I hadn’t realized I had been holding. I steadied my breath before the feeling could take shape.

I glanced at the clock. We had already passed the allotted time. The moment of truth had arrived. I’d only worked in clinics and had never had to ask a client for payment. Things were now different—I was a businessman.

I stiffened my spine and began with the easy part. "I would like to see you weekly. Would this time on Tuesdays work for you?"

She pulled her calendar out of her purse as she nodded. Now was the time I’d been dreading. I didn’t want to make it any bigger than it was and did my best to sound casual. "We discussed my fee over the phone. How will you be paying today?"

I did my best to hide my relief when she dipped back into her purse.

As she was leaving, I took a moment to enjoy the feeling that washed over me. She was a client, just as the many others I had worked with during my training. Her issues were somewhat less concrete and immediate, but her suffering was just as real. I could do this!

Linda’s Journal

March 3

I finally got around to seeing a shrink. My life just seems so dull, but I really don’t see how this nerdy guy is going to help. He was nice enough and seemed to understand what was bothering me. I just don’t know how he could challenge me enough to make a difference.

I think at first I intimidated him. That’s the last thing I expected. Without giving it a lot of thought, I had taken extra care in getting ready. I guess, somehow, wearing nice clothes and make up gave me a sense, like wearing a coat of armor. I came in not knowing what I was walking into, but I didn’t want to take any chances. I certainly wasn’t going to let him get to me. I think it worked.

It actually made me feel good about myself. I’ve spent so much of my life wearing tennis clothes and hanging out with my friends at the club. I haven’t really been around unfamiliar men, or any men other than Rick, that much. I was glad that he seemed to take my unhappiness seriously. He did seem to really hear me.

I’m a bit uneasy. I came right out and said something I hadn’t really admitted, even to myself. I just plain don’t feel good about the life I’m leading. That’s a horrible thing to have to face. I do like that he didn’t seem to judge me, though.

I think I’ll give him a try. He seems nice enough, and I think he has good intentions. I just wish he were a little stronger and more dynamic. I guess it’s not easy to find a shrink like that. As I think about it, I know how I would have reacted. I’m a strong woman. The last thing I want is someone telling me how to live my life.

When Rick belittled me for seeing him, I nearly hit the roof. Where does he get off criticizing me? He expects me to be a perfect, mindless wife with no purpose in life other than to please him. It’s almost funny that he complained about my wasting money seeing a psychologist considering the way that he throws money away on his toys. It’s obvious that he could care less about what’s important to me"

 [NR1]