Go ahead, affect me!

The other day, one of my clients dumped me.

She* told me that she did not feel she was making progress quickly enough, nor the kind of progress she wanted to be making. This particular client had been struggling with Anorexia Nervosa for years, and had been working with me for about 10 months. I took a breath, and told her I was very proud of her for speaking up for herself and telling me what she needed. I suggested we discuss what she was craving and not getting from me. She told me that this wasn’t personal, but that my style was very focused on personal relationships, and that she found it more beneficial when therapists focus on the bigger picture, systems, culture, values, and how her eating disorder (ED) keeps her from living out her hopes and dreams in the world. I nodded. I was with her.

I am a therapist who focuses on interpersonal relationships, and I strongly believe that many of us are terrified to truly be vulnerable to another person, to affect one another, and so we hold back. In some cases, we even make ourselves physically small, so terrified we are of taking up too much emotional space. My client readily acknowledged that her ED was at odds with her personal values, and we often discussed how difficult it would be to become a teacher – her dream – and maintain the ED. She expressed pain and sadness when exploring how her ED was keeping her world so small. She struggled to see, however, how the ED was also keeping her disconnected from love and personal connection. We talked about the importance of sharing her secret with her best friend, but she was terrified to be so vulnerable. Her shame was so great. I often asked her to fantasize about asking to get various needs met – asking for a favor, asking to meet with her boss, asking a friend to meet for a meal. All of these bids involved affecting people, and therefore involved risk. As humans, we put a need out there, and it may or may not get met. We may be disappointed, and therefore we are vulnerable. The work I was putting on her – the work towards personal connection and vulnerability – was so uncomfortable that she needed to run. And I must own now that maybe I pushed her too hard. After all, I don’t do it right all the time!

Ironically, the only way out of the discomfort for her, was by making herself vulnerable with me.

Her voice was a little shaky as she brought it up. I asked her how she had been taking care of herself, as it had been a particularly stressful weekend, and she said that actually she had something else she wanted to bring up. Great! I said. Get your needs met! I said. When she told me she wanted “a change,” I knew what she meant, and after I told her that I was proud of her for listening to herself and asking for what she needed, she said she felt relieved. What were you scared of? I asked her. She told me she was scared that I would be mad at her, that I would feel hurt. And consequently, she would feel guilty. Would that change your truth? I asked her. Would affecting me change your truth? She thought for a minute before telling me that it might, because feeling guilty was so unbearable for her – even though she knew that was the “wrong” answer. I smiled.

We talked for a while longer about the significance of the moment. She was listening to her gut – something that people who suffer from eating disorders have to learn to do from scratch. I told her I was sad, and would miss our sessions, but more importantly was glad she had learned to trust her own truth, and to stand on it, even when that might be risky or uncomfortable. Allowing herself to be vulnerable with me helped her see the possibility of taking up more emotional space. And if this therapist had to be a casualty in her process, so be it. Good for her.

*Significant details have been altered to protect confidentiality.