My time in this group was preset from the day I walked through the agency's door. September to May. And when May came, I didn't like the idea of leaving. After such an unusual and intense training experience the thought of going back to doing research on projective tests wasn't overly appealing. With the group it felt like I was doing real work but more importantly, I knew that I would miss a lot of the women there.
Shrinks who say they love or even like all their clients are either delusional or lying. Not everyone who comes into therapy is likable and often their psychological problems can make them very difficult to deal with. Other times people are just disagreeable and make no mistake that the reverse is true as well: no shrink is going to be a perfect fit for every client and certain clients will actively dislike their therapists. That being said I was fortunate in this particular situation because I did like many of the women there and the feeling appeared to be mutual.
Even though our support group wasn't a formal therapy setting, many of the women improved to the point that they didn't need the group anymore (assuming their significant others were no longer in treatment). Others reported that they would stay in the group for as long as it existed, that they always took something new from what the members had to say. I believe that some of the women saw themselves as role models for new members and relished the opportunity to serve as a sponsor of sorts for new participants.
For the last group I had a small speech planned: review what we learned together, tell them how proud I am of them, never stop growing, rah rah rah! I've never successfully delivered a pre-determined speech and I knew this would be no exception so I scrapped it before group and decided to let the final session flow organically.
My supervisor had some charts and notes for me to sign before I left the agency for the last time so I took care of all that before group began. I arrived a few minutes late to find the women already there talking up a storm.
"He did what? That's horrible."
"He should be lynched for that."
"String him up by his balls!"
"Hi ladies," I said. "I think I'm missing an interesting conversation here."
"Jill's husband was late for their anniversary dinner. Being late...is something we don't tolerate around here," Anne winked.
"Ah, my supervisor warned me about negative reactions toward me. This is because I'm a man?"
"Yep. You're all the same," Jill said.
"Fortunately not everyone is like our men," Anne said with a small frown.
"No, not everyone is like that," I said. "You all have a very unique situation."
We talked about this notion of 'being different.' Some women challenged the idea, stating that plenty of people have family members who are murderers, thieves, rapists, or even a combination of those things. "No one has a perfect family," one woman asserted. "People are messed up, they do messed up things. Sometimes really messed up things. Do you know how many thousands upon thousands of people are in prison? Well those people have families. That's us."
Others held fast to the idea that the lives of the women in this group weren't like anyone else's. "I don't know anyone who is married to a Pedophile," said Ann. "I know these people exist but when I picture them they're just hypothetical figures, blank faces on generic bodies. So it's only here that I feel I'm with my own kind."
"That's why I'm here and I'll probably never leave. Because we're different." Jill said. "However, this one," she said pointing at me, "is leaving us," and smiled.
I couldn't help but think there wasn't at least some resentment behind that.
"Yes, as we had discussed, today is the day." I said. "I'd like to ask each of you how you feel about this."
"And are you going to share as well?" one woman asked.
"Absolutely."
Jill spoke. "I have mixed feelings about this. Our last two group leaders were women so this is a new experience for me." She paused and looked down into her lap. "I'm happy for you in some ways. You've taken another step toward getting your Ph.D. You probably learned a lot between working with us and our partners. And you were helpful and I'm grateful for that."
"Thank you," I said.
"But part of me is very jealous. You get to leave here and when you do your life is your own. We have to stay the 'significant others of the sex offenders' and you don't have to carry that burden. I resent that and I feel that you're abandoning us."
We had spent a small number of sessions talking about how the women might feel about me leaving. This is always good clinical practice but not always easy to implement, especially in groups. The members have crises and problems to attend to and not everyone is comfortable sharing thoughts about their group leader. So this was our first foray into deep feelings about...termination.
"Do other people feel this way?" I asked.
One woman nodded and then Ann spoke. "I feel abandoned but I don't resent you or feel jealous. I'll just miss you."
"I wouldn't blame anyone for feeling resentful or abandoned," I said. "This is how the system works and unfortunately people come and go through this revolving door that is our lives." Revolving door that is our lives? Christ, you are walking cliché.
"I want you to know," I continued, "that I will miss this group terribly. You've all been through a lot and those of you sitting here decided to fight back against your problems. Even if that meant leaving your spouse you didn't bail and hide under a rock. You sat here, week after week, and worked through the feelings. I'd like to think I was a part of that process. I didn't always agree with your decisions but to say I respect you for your work is an understatement."
"Well we respect you too, soon-to-be Dr. Rob" said Ann. "And I'll bet you'll make a lady very happy someday with all of the knowledge about sex you learned from our discussions."
At the end of the session the ladies gave me a card. It had just a tree on the front. Inside it had all of their signatures scattered about and, in the middle, it said:
Stay Warm
Stay Safe
And for God's Sake Stay Legal!
They all laughed and smiled as I read the card aloud and I gave a perfunctory smile. Even though the women knew I was not flawless, Freud might have said that, in addition to using humor to protect against psychological pain, the last line was a warning to not shatter the positive image they had of me. This isn't unheard of in therapy where clients will give admonishments and pieces of advice that underneath the surface are really saying "Please don't change, don't become something bad. I need you to stay exactly who you are!"
And just like that it was over. Some women gave me a hug good-bye, others simply waved as they walked out. The next week a new intern would be in my spot, doing my job and forming a relationship with the women. My women. I was jealous that someone else was going to be helping them going forward.
That was my first experience with the "loss" involved in a therapeutic relationship, at least of one that had some significant time behind it. Even today this part of the job doesn't get much easier. The best therapy relationships are the ones that are hard to let go of, even when you're ecstatic for the person who has made the gains they sought out.
I left the agency that night and met up with my fellow students, many of whom had finished their internships as well. We were that much closer to graduation. One year to go. We drank beer and wine and partied to start the summer off right. I even got the phone number of a woman I had my eye on at the bar. But for a few weeks after the group ended I had a nagging feeling that I can only describe as grief. All of us grew as people because of our experiences together but I still lost them and they lost me. I eventually got past that feeling and moved on to other groups and other therapy relationships - the woman who gave me her number never returned my call, but let's not get into that right now - but the women were never forgotten.
Posted by Rob Dobrenski at 12:51 PM