Enough to Miss Christmas

I had been visiting Dr. Mason every Wednesday for months now. Perhaps that's why he seemed so frustrated when we met for our weekly session. He felt I'd made too little progress, and I basically agreed, to a point.

I'd accepted therapy because I hurt, but I was unwilling to release the private world I called my own. Dr. Mason understood this, in his boring way. He'd prod me and prompt me with an 'Ah' here and there, giving me hell in his polite, austere manner; his nice method of saying I wasn't playing the game by the established rules, spilling my guts, and bawling away my session. I was wasting his time.

He'd heard the song a hundred times. I guess, I simply sighed. He looked at me for a long time without speaking. I apologized, tried to look contrite, and listened while he lectured me.

I gained little solace from our meetings, probably because I put so little into them. Paul's insurance paid the bills so there was no financial loss to what I considered a minor indulgence. To be honest, my main reason to attend was Karen. I could keep closer tabs on her progress and show support of her appointments. I fibbed a bit, said I wanted to continue our sessions, and promised to be a good little girl in the future.

Dr. Mason wasted no time resurrecting an unpleasant subject.

"Let's talk about your childhood and punishment."

"I thought we beat that horse to death last time. Why do you keep harping on it?" I asked.

He took time phrasing his answer. "You both feel guilt; you over leaving your mother at a time when she needed you and Karen, for some unknown incident concerning her mother. Guilt speaks of wrong doing, perceived or otherwise and wrong doing results in punishment. Punishment is on Karen's mind. I'm afraid Karen might use it as a test."

I didn't tell him, but I harbored the same concerns. However, I was committed to not bend to Karen's manipulations on that issue. I told the doctor so.

"I find the dynamics between you and Karen fascinating," the doctor said as he looked down at his notes.

"I'm glad we amuse you." He ignored my snippiness and forged ahead.

"I know we went over this but tell me again why you rely so heavily on the way your parents raised you."

"I think they did a very good job."

"Ah," he said. "I think there's more to it."

"And what's that, Doctor?"

"How was your married life, with your first husband?"

 Shitty, with a capital S but I told you; I don't want to waste time talking about that period of my life. It's over."