Dr. Williams & Me

My heart sank.  Dr. Williams had been highly recommended to me by one of my previous counselors.  Dr. Williams was a specialist in dealing with children that soothed some vague and distant part of me.  I had already been through too much, through too many other counselors.  I was nearly destroyed by one of them, and I couldn''t risk another destructive experience.  I wanted to work with Dr. Williams.  I had come to work with Dr. Williams, only - if she''d agree to it.  Squelching my apprehension, I began to talk of my relationships with my children, and their growth and development.  I listened to my children talk about their anger toward each other, about their fears, and about their activities.  Each statement diverted away from the real reason I had come.  I was afraid this wasn''t going to work.  Wearily, I shared my thoughts about parenting issues, and the trials and tribulations of being a single parent.  Dr. Williams responded by saying that she knew how difficult it was for me for she too had been a single parent.  I looked at her in amazement.  I had never known a therapist who would share her personal life so openly.  I was afraid to hope that she was someone special, but at the same time, I wanted desperately to hold onto that hope.  It was my only hope; my last hope.  The hour was over.  For me, it had been consumed in irrelevant conversation, masking it all.  We made another appointment and left.

 As I drove home, I was deeply aware that I had again failed to communicate, to make the all-important connection.  Throughout the week, I scolded myself for my lack of courage.  I felt weak and inadequate, and I prayed for the courage and strength to overcome my fears to find that special someone who could help me.  I needed help to engage the battle for my own well being.  Each day dragged as I did my daily chores, and took care of my children.  Each night I would sit by the fire in the family room and try to think of a way that I could get Dr. Williams to work with me.  I went to work each day and waited. Classes where I attended college were over for winter break.  Christmas and New Year''s Eve came and passed.  I sat by the fire and waited. 

The next session finally came, and again my children played as we waited.  I sat quietly in the waiting room; watching, listening.  I desperately wanted to bring an end to the isolated world in which I was living, and I felt sure the only route to ending it was in working things through in therapy with Dr. Williams.  A mixture of hopes, fears, and doubts swelled within me as I waited to meet our new counselor. 

Within a few moments Dr. Williams entered the waiting room.  Again she greeted us and asked if we were ready to get started.  Dr. Williams had not transferred us to another counselor after all.  I was amazed, relieved, and curious.  Maybe she had forgotten. Maybe she was just postponing the inevitable.  But, I had another chance, another visit with her.  This time, I promised, I would tell her why I had really come, why I needed her, personally. 

After we had spent the first part of the session together, Dr. Williams asked my children to leave the room so that she and I could talk privately.  I asked her if she thought my children were o.k., and did she think they were suffering?  I was so afraid of the possibility that my children were suffering in their childhood as it had been for me.  I was so afraid they were living life fighting feelings of loneliness and suicide, as it had been for me.  I couldn''t bear the thought that they might be suffering. 

Dr. Williams assured me that she thought they were fine.  "If you would simply ask them," she said, "I think you would find out they were happy to have a mother like you.” 

I was startled by a pounding noise outside the room. Though Dr. Williams wasn''t perturbed, we went out to explore.  Mark was pounding a punching bag, making it swing to and fro.

"Watch," Dr. Williams said, "I want to show you something."  She took a karate stance, gave out a hearty shout, and quickly kicked the punching bag.

"Wow!" my children exclaimed with eyes as big as saucers. 

I could only stand open-mouthed.  “This wasn''t a typical therapist,” I whispered.

"I''m doing a karate demonstration tonight,” she said, “and I''ll be sparring with my son. Would you like to come and watch?"