When Kristýna first came to me for therapy, I could not help but feel that some frail creature had just wandered into my office to try to persuade me one way or another she was a Czech and history teacher. She’d had her long black hair tied in a bun, but now it had come loose and fallen over her slender shoulders.
A tiny crystal on a whisp of a chain sparkled in the open neck of her blouse, as a checked skirt revealed slim calves. All this added to her sophisticated charm, although she herself was evidently quite oblivious to that.
“Have you ever been to therapy before?” I started, when it hit me that this woman would definitely not be one of those who come out with anything of importance unless they are spurred on. “I know, that plant is going to die. The cleaner watered it too much again,” I said, attempting to lure her gaze away from the window towards me.
“Never,” she shook her head as her eyes roved nervously around the room. Discreetly I followed the path of her gaze: the waste-paper basket was brimming over with paper again, there was a pile of untided books on the shelf and the picture of a train station that my ex-wife had once hung up for me there. Then our gazes finally met for a moment. She blinked in uncertainty and a blush quickly spread across her face.
“Alright then. You’ve come to me for therapy. We have some time together here which is yours to spend however you like,” I explained. “We can remain silent or chat, or have a think together…” After I say this, most clients show relief that is barely perceptible but in my view highly important. I was hoping for the same in Kristýna, but nothing of the kind happened.
“You can decide for yourself what we’re to do. You can say what you expect from therapy. And then we shall decide, you and I, if we’ll give it a try together. We both have to be sure that there’s an understanding between us. Both you and I can refuse. Don’t take it personally. Therapy means creating a strong therapeutic relationship. Either it’s there or it isn’t.” Not a hint of relief.
“Did you know that as many as half the people who take therapy have chosen the wrong therapist?”
Uneasily she shook her head and unobtrusively sank deeper into the armchair. I could guess what kind of idea she had about us therapists. Like most people she probably considered us to be some kind of supernatural beings, free of all the usual problems suffered by mere mortals. And if by chance we come up against a problem, we always have some wise old precept or guideline to hand to quickly and safely dispel it. What’s more, we most definitely possess special powers to look into other people’s hearts, where we then sophisticatedly repair what they have generally ruined through their own fault. At least at first glance I thought Kristýna was the sort who’ll always blame themselves for mistakes and failures. To tell the truth I prefer that kind of client. Not because I particularly appreciate their ability to acknowledge their own mistakes. They have usually taken them more to heart than they really should have anyway. But as a rule they show greater powers of introspection, so it is usually easier to work with them.
(Translated by Melvyn Clarke)