Irene was relieved when she finally reached the tall, old building in the
center of town. She hesitated briefly, then slowly opened the heavy door
and nervously stepped into the waiting room. After asking her name, a
pretty young receptionist said that the doctor would see her momentarily.
She sat in a comfortable chair and nervously glanced around the room. She
wondered what problems had brought the others here. There were two doctors
listed. She read their names on a large sign hanging over the
receptionist's desk. Dr. Jerry Feldon and Dr. Aaron Berger.
A door opened next to the receptionist's desk and she watched as the doctor whispered a few words to the young woman. She observed the man's appearance. He wasn't what she'd expected. He was short and thin. A wisp of gray hair adorned the top of his otherwise bald head. He was wearing glasses, which had slipped and seemed to hang loosely on the edge of his nose. He looked at her and she quickly looked away.
"Mrs. Copeland, the Doctor will see you now," the receptionist said with a smile.
Irene's face reddened as she felt the other's eyes focus upon her. She stood up and awkwardly made her way to where the doctor stood. He smiled at her as he motioned her into his office. He followed her, then closed the door behind them.
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" he asked as he seated himself behind a cluttered desk.
"No, thank you," she answered as she surveyed the room. "No couch?"
He laughed. "No couch. But I do have some very comfortable chairs," he replied as he motioned her to be seated.
Irene sat and nervously clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. "Why do you keep staring at me?" she finally asked.
"I'm just evaluating you. Are you nervous?"
"Yes," she admitted.
"Why?"
She shrugged. "I guess it's because things seem so out of control in my life."
"Can you explain?"
"My emotions and feelings . . . I'm drained. I gave so much of myself away that I forgot to save some for myself. And when I tried to get a little back, my husband gave me nothing." She took a deep breath. "I was patient for so long, holding on to the dream that he would change and treat me with love."
"But he didn't?"
"No. All I got back from him was pain and heartache."
"Why didn't you get out of the relationship?"
She looked into his eyes. "Because I was in love with him and I believed in my wedding vows."
Irene hoped he didn't notice her shakiness. She sat slightly slouched and her shoulders were stooped. She'd definitely lost her self-esteem.
"Would you mind if I called you Irene?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I'd like that."
He smiled. "Now tell me, why have you made this appointment to see me?"
"I am having problems in my marriage and a woman named Matilda from the Domestic Violence Center gave me your card. I met her at the hospital one night."
"I see." He focused his eyes on hers as he leaned back in his chair. "What is your marriage like?"
"Hell," she answered. "We never should have married."
"Tell me a little about your marriage."
She stood up and walked over to the window. "I thought Alexander was the answer to my prayers. I was lonely and I wanted my two daughters to have a normal life with two parents. My first marriage ended in divorce and the girls had little contact with their father. I thought Alexander would love us and take care of us forever. I was looking for that special magic. Do you know what I mean?"
She hoped he saw the pain in her eyes and felt her loneliness. She needed to know how to trust again. "Yes, I know what you mean."
She stared out of the window. "He broke my arm."
She said it in such a low voice that she wondered if Jerry Feldon heard her. Did he hear the pain in her voice? "Did he admit it?"
She turned to the doctor. "You know, I really thought he would feel bad. He'd never done anything this severe before. He makes up excuses. He twists things around and puts the blame on my daughters and me. He always comes out right. He is Mr. Perfect." Her voice rose slightly. "He can hurt whomever he wants. He doesn't care. When he's done, he denies having done anything."
"What are your daughters' names and ages?"
"Serena is sixteen and Lita is fourteen," she answered.
"Alexander sounds like a very complex man."
"He is, and I really thought I could change him." She frowned. "He really needs help," she retorted bitterly.
It felt invigorating to release the pent-up anger which had taken hold of her emotions. She needed to vindicate herself. It would take a lot of time and patience for her to accept what had happened to her.
"What made you decide to get some help, Irene?"
"I deserve a better life. My girls deserve a better life."
"Do you and your husband argue frequently or once a week, once a month?"
"We argue almost constantly. I don't want to, but he pushes me so hard. I can never make him happy." She ran her hand through her hair. "He blames me for all of his problems. He doesn't want me to have any friends and I feel as though I'm in prison. He constantly makes fun of me as well as everything I do. He picks on Serena and Lita." A tear slid from her eye.
"Have you ever separated?"
She lowered her eyes. "The girls and I stayed in a shelter for abused women and children once. I should never have gone back to him."
"Why did you?"
"He convinced me that it was my fault he abused me."
"Do you have any idea why he could convince you that everything was your fault?"
"I loved him with all of my heart." She looked into the doctor's eyes. "I need someone to love me and believe in me."
"Has he been previously married?"
"Yes, he has a son, Stephan. He has full custody."
"How is his relationship with his son?"
She frowned. "It's difficult to put into words. He loves his son, but something is wrong."
"In what way?"
"He acts as though the boy is two years old instead of fifteen. He's always dwelling on the fact that his son will leave him some day. He cries about it." She frowned again. "He believes his son is perfect and everybody has to bow down to him."
"How does your stepson treat you?"
"With little respect. We used to have a good relationship, but that's been eroded over the years."
Jerry Feldon scribbled some notes on his legal pad. "You haven't officially separated, have you?"
"No, but I'm working on it. I finally stood up to Alexander and told him if he touches me or the girls again, I'll have him arrested."
"Good. You should never allow the abuse, Irene." He glanced at his watch. "I'd like to schedule weekly appointments, if that's all right with you?"
"I don't have much money," she admitted.
"Don't worry about it," he smiled. "I base my fees on what you are able to pay."
"Thank you."
"Now," he said as he pulled a piece of paper from his desk drawer. He scribbled something on it, then handed it to her. "I would like you to write down what this word means to you. It can be one sentence or one hundred. I want to feel your emotions expressed as you think about this word."
Irene looked at the word. "Depression," she read.
"I know it probably sounds strange, but I may give you these exercises from time to time."
"All right."
"Just remember, Irene, no one has the right to abuse you."
She smiled. "Thank you, Doctor."
A door opened next to the receptionist's desk and she watched as the doctor whispered a few words to the young woman. She observed the man's appearance. He wasn't what she'd expected. He was short and thin. A wisp of gray hair adorned the top of his otherwise bald head. He was wearing glasses, which had slipped and seemed to hang loosely on the edge of his nose. He looked at her and she quickly looked away.
"Mrs. Copeland, the Doctor will see you now," the receptionist said with a smile.
Irene's face reddened as she felt the other's eyes focus upon her. She stood up and awkwardly made her way to where the doctor stood. He smiled at her as he motioned her into his office. He followed her, then closed the door behind them.
"Would you like a cup of coffee?" he asked as he seated himself behind a cluttered desk.
"No, thank you," she answered as she surveyed the room. "No couch?"
He laughed. "No couch. But I do have some very comfortable chairs," he replied as he motioned her to be seated.
Irene sat and nervously clasped her hands together to keep them from shaking. "Why do you keep staring at me?" she finally asked.
"I'm just evaluating you. Are you nervous?"
"Yes," she admitted.
"Why?"
She shrugged. "I guess it's because things seem so out of control in my life."
"Can you explain?"
"My emotions and feelings . . . I'm drained. I gave so much of myself away that I forgot to save some for myself. And when I tried to get a little back, my husband gave me nothing." She took a deep breath. "I was patient for so long, holding on to the dream that he would change and treat me with love."
"But he didn't?"
"No. All I got back from him was pain and heartache."
"Why didn't you get out of the relationship?"
She looked into his eyes. "Because I was in love with him and I believed in my wedding vows."
Irene hoped he didn't notice her shakiness. She sat slightly slouched and her shoulders were stooped. She'd definitely lost her self-esteem.
"Would you mind if I called you Irene?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I'd like that."
He smiled. "Now tell me, why have you made this appointment to see me?"
"I am having problems in my marriage and a woman named Matilda from the Domestic Violence Center gave me your card. I met her at the hospital one night."
"I see." He focused his eyes on hers as he leaned back in his chair. "What is your marriage like?"
"Hell," she answered. "We never should have married."
"Tell me a little about your marriage."
She stood up and walked over to the window. "I thought Alexander was the answer to my prayers. I was lonely and I wanted my two daughters to have a normal life with two parents. My first marriage ended in divorce and the girls had little contact with their father. I thought Alexander would love us and take care of us forever. I was looking for that special magic. Do you know what I mean?"
She hoped he saw the pain in her eyes and felt her loneliness. She needed to know how to trust again. "Yes, I know what you mean."
She stared out of the window. "He broke my arm."
She said it in such a low voice that she wondered if Jerry Feldon heard her. Did he hear the pain in her voice? "Did he admit it?"
She turned to the doctor. "You know, I really thought he would feel bad. He'd never done anything this severe before. He makes up excuses. He twists things around and puts the blame on my daughters and me. He always comes out right. He is Mr. Perfect." Her voice rose slightly. "He can hurt whomever he wants. He doesn't care. When he's done, he denies having done anything."
"What are your daughters' names and ages?"
"Serena is sixteen and Lita is fourteen," she answered.
"Alexander sounds like a very complex man."
"He is, and I really thought I could change him." She frowned. "He really needs help," she retorted bitterly.
It felt invigorating to release the pent-up anger which had taken hold of her emotions. She needed to vindicate herself. It would take a lot of time and patience for her to accept what had happened to her.
"What made you decide to get some help, Irene?"
"I deserve a better life. My girls deserve a better life."
"Do you and your husband argue frequently or once a week, once a month?"
"We argue almost constantly. I don't want to, but he pushes me so hard. I can never make him happy." She ran her hand through her hair. "He blames me for all of his problems. He doesn't want me to have any friends and I feel as though I'm in prison. He constantly makes fun of me as well as everything I do. He picks on Serena and Lita." A tear slid from her eye.
"Have you ever separated?"
She lowered her eyes. "The girls and I stayed in a shelter for abused women and children once. I should never have gone back to him."
"Why did you?"
"He convinced me that it was my fault he abused me."
"Do you have any idea why he could convince you that everything was your fault?"
"I loved him with all of my heart." She looked into the doctor's eyes. "I need someone to love me and believe in me."
"Has he been previously married?"
"Yes, he has a son, Stephan. He has full custody."
"How is his relationship with his son?"
She frowned. "It's difficult to put into words. He loves his son, but something is wrong."
"In what way?"
"He acts as though the boy is two years old instead of fifteen. He's always dwelling on the fact that his son will leave him some day. He cries about it." She frowned again. "He believes his son is perfect and everybody has to bow down to him."
"How does your stepson treat you?"
"With little respect. We used to have a good relationship, but that's been eroded over the years."
Jerry Feldon scribbled some notes on his legal pad. "You haven't officially separated, have you?"
"No, but I'm working on it. I finally stood up to Alexander and told him if he touches me or the girls again, I'll have him arrested."
"Good. You should never allow the abuse, Irene." He glanced at his watch. "I'd like to schedule weekly appointments, if that's all right with you?"
"I don't have much money," she admitted.
"Don't worry about it," he smiled. "I base my fees on what you are able to pay."
"Thank you."
"Now," he said as he pulled a piece of paper from his desk drawer. He scribbled something on it, then handed it to her. "I would like you to write down what this word means to you. It can be one sentence or one hundred. I want to feel your emotions expressed as you think about this word."
Irene looked at the word. "Depression," she read.
"I know it probably sounds strange, but I may give you these exercises from time to time."
"All right."
"Just remember, Irene, no one has the right to abuse you."
She smiled. "Thank you, Doctor."