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Candid Thoughts

by Cyan

Copyright 2001 by Cyan
All Rights Reserved; No Redistribution.

I looked at my notebook. I never draw a blank, so why was it happening to me now? Just relax, I told myself. Like you've learned; stay calm as if all is happening as it should.

Feeling stronger for the moment, I looked again at my visitor, the woman I had been trying to open up for the past half hour. She was certainly attractive, the slender physique that makes a woman look taller than she really is. Her face was definitely pretty and her long curly hair. And her demeanor, seemingly perfectly assured from the start of our first session. And she was quite successful too in her chosen profession.

So why was Donna visiting me? She'd told me her mother suggested it. That her social life was pretty dead and she found herself alone far too much. I had to admit that attractive as she was, there was certainly something about her that made you just a tiny bit wary. She seemed too self-contained and she had a way of answering that appeared perfectly confident and forthcoming, yet revealed not a thing about what she was thinking. And even into our fourth session, I still sensed I wasn't any closer to her than the first time she greeted me.

Oh the smile was there, the civil greeting, the seemingly-friendly answer to each question I posed. She had no trouble speaking to me, yet despite all my professional experience, and all of the answers and anecdotes she'd cooperatively given me, I still felt that lack of connection, as if she were telling me nothing about her real self.

As I watched her in silence, I could see the confidence she always displayed. Our silence had continued for seconds but she looked not the slightest bit put out. In fact, patients often started babbling when faced with such a pause, usually giving me just a bit of nervous chatter but on occasion something to go on. "Well," I said, feeling almost as if I'd lost a battle by breaking the silence. Still I wondered: what next? How do I crack this case? Challenges are supposed to be what makes ones profession interesting but when you're in the middle of one it sometimes doesn't feel that way at all.

I realized I was taking far too long to follow up my opening word. "Well," I heard myself repeat. "Why don't we try a little exercise? Perhaps that will help us make some progress."

She said nothing, somehow her calm demeanor simply telling me that there was nothing to say to that, that the next step was for me to explain further. I felt a bit incompetent at having let slip the admission about our lack of progress: that was something I simply never did without forethought, such as when it was obviously necessary to send the patient elsewhere. I briefly wondered if that was to be Donna's fate, but regained control of myself.

The enigma. The woman who reveals nothing about herself, her thoughts. "Why don't you tell me," I said, "tell me your thoughts. Tell me what you are thinking at this exact moment."

She gave me an immediate but mild smile. Then after an apparent brief pause to consider, she said: "That's probably not a good idea."

"It's OK," I said, the professional words finally flowing out of my mouth again, "take your time, relax. You can do it."

I was amazed to detect a brief hint of discomfort on her part at that. After another moment she said: "I know very well I can tell you my thoughts; but you might be--uncomfortable with what I say."

I probably revealed a bit of amazement at that thought, another crack in my own professional demeanor. "I assure you," I said, "that I've listened to a lot of people's thoughts of all sorts, and one in my position is quite used to pretty much anything." As I finished, she revealed a definite look of disbelief. I smiled. "Trust me," I said. "I know my business."

"OK," she said, still looking not completely convinced. I noted her eyes looking past me for a moment as if she were recollecting a moment, then they returned to mine. "You asked for this," she said. "I was thinking of ...

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