“Do you want to tell her?” The conversation was swift, a slight tilt of the head followed by a mirrored response, “Not really. Do you?” A couple sat in my office, five years overdue for this pivotal discussion. I sat across from them, acutely aware that they’d reached the crux of their relationship.
Until that moment, I had firmly taken one side, saying, “He left you alone, even after that surgery, and stopped for a beer before picking up your medications? It’s understandable that you can’t confidently envision a future with him; he let you down.” It felt like a closed case to me—betraying someone’s trust, and this is the consequence.
I couldn’t help but be captivated by the drama of their relationship. My biased perspective leaned toward one person’s viewpoint, inevitably swaying my judgment.
With just seven minutes left in the session, a critical juncture for some, the time when the real issues emerge – though it felt more like we should be wiping our mouths with fancy cloth napkins – the guilty one of them uttered, “I’ll tell her. There was no way I could have been present.”
I was taken aback by the admission. I’d watched this person, enduring their spouse’s pointed finger jabs and exclamations like a seasoned boxer. Then he matter-of-factly admitted, “If I could go back and change it, I would.”
But at that time, something kept him from being the partner she needed.
I couldn’t resist the urge to dig deeper. With a minute to spare, I asked, “Why?”
His reaction was a resounding door slam, a non-verbal proclamation of his reluctance, “I don’t want to talk about it”. I nodded, grasping the enormity of his words, and simply said, “Thank you for letting me know.”
I understood that these were people’s lives, but I longed to uncover the rest of their story. I’ve had clients with famous family members who hinted at their secrets, and even though I was tempted to play the detective and ask, “Who? What? Where” I refrained, respecting their choice to disclose what they wished.
So, next week, I’ll pick up where we left off, armed with a mirror and empathy. “So you were saying, if you could go back and change it, you would. But something significant had also happened to you, so you couldn’t.”
I’ll likely hear a simple affirmation, “That’s right,” or perhaps some clarification. And then, Part 2 of their journey will begin.
For now, it’s the weekend, and I’m enjoying ample family and me time. I’m a bit sad that I’ve devoured the book “Never Split the Difference” all about negotiating and only have half last. My one complaint is on me; I wish I had read it sooner.
Well, I’d better get back to it. Have a wonderful evening. Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 