martes, 3 de noviembre de 2009

Careti Psychologist - My patient was me

Yesterday a patient came to my office and she sat calmly. I thought It was weird because I know her and she probabbly should had been crying. I even got prepared before she came with 2 boxes of clinex, one for the session with her, and the other one for the rest of the patients of the week. She had a strange look in her face... maybe because during the first seconds, I couldnt recognice any emotion in her facial expression. I dont know if she was trying to pretend she was fine, or if she was nervous... maybe she was just acting. She had her hands very relaxed, and her pose was straight but not rigid. She just stared at me seriously. Aparently she did not want to cry... she didnt want to let her feelings come out. We already knew each other very well and I didnt want to push her sharply into something she didnt want, because there was a chance that she could take it in the wrong way and awake the rage. Her feelings produced a heat in her inner self but depending on the escape valve, they could come out in several ways.... sadness, anger, nostalgy... and I didnt want to let her rage come out. While I was sitting in front of her, I decided to talk about any random thing.
But every time that I felt tempted to pronounce one of those words that - I certainly know they make my patients talk - I didn't dare. I didn't want to listen to her. I dont know how that could happen but I really didnt want to listen to what she had to say. I didn't want to know how she felt. 
We talked about life... and after a while, I asked her for an advice and I knew what she was feeling. I told her that something in particular had happened to me and I asked her to tell me the right thing to do in her opinion. throughout her advice I could observe many elements that caught my attention, because all her advices were a reflection of what she had once experienced. With my story I took her to many areas that were hard to understand, but in many of them she felt empathy; she knew what I was talking about. While she talked to me I could see her whole world wrapped in a package called "advice". But when the session was ended, I felt there was something missing. She never said what was the reason that made her come to see me, and I knew It the whole time but I never dared to ask. And she told me. I stared at her and asked her: What are we going to do? and In that exact moment, I didn't see her anymore. My patient was me. 

Careti Psicóloga - Mi paciente era yo

Ayer vino una paciente a mi consulta, y se sentó calmada. Lo encontré raro porque conociéndola, debería haber estado llorando. Yo incluso me había preparado con dos cajas de clinex... una para la sesión con ella, y otra para los demás pacientes de la semana. Tenía una mirada rara... quizás porque durante los primeros segundos, no pude reconocer ninguna emoción en su expresión. No sé si habra estado tratando de fingir, o si estaba nerviosa, o quizás estaría actuando.... Tenía las manos relajadas, una postura derecha pero no rígida. Y sólo miraba seria. Al parecer no quería llorar... no quería dejar correr el torrente de sentimientos que tanto la saturaban. Ya nos conocíamos bastante bien, y no quería intervenirla bruscamente porque existía la posibilidad de tomarla por el angulo incorrecto y desencadenar la ira. Sus sentimientos producían un calor en su interior pero dependiendo de la válvula de escape estos irían saliendo en formas distintas... pena... rabia... nostalgia... Y yo no quería desatar la ira. 

Mientras estaba sentada al frente de ella, decidí hablar de otra cosa. Cada vez que iba a pronunciar una palabra de esas que - yo sé- que hacen hablar, me reprimía. No quería escuchar. No sé porque me sucedió eso pero no quería escuchar hablar a esa paciente. No quería saber lo que ella sentía. Hablamos de la vida....

Después de un rato, le pedí un consejo y supe lo que estaba sintiendo. Le dije me había pasado algo en particular, y le pedí que me dijera que me recomendaba hacer. A través de su consejo pude observar varios elementos que me llamaron la atención, porque todos sus consejos reflejaban lo que ella alguna vez había experimentado. Con mi historia la llevé a muchas areas dificiles de comprender, pero ella en muchas de esas situaciones sintió empatía, sabía de lo que yo le estaba hablando. Me mostro su mundo empaquetado en forma de consejo.

Cuando se estaba terminado la sesión, sentí que quedaba algo pendiente. Ella no me había dicho por qué había venido, y yo lo supe todo el tiempo, pero no le había querido preguntar. Y me contó. Yo la miré y le pregunte ¿que vamos a hacer? En ese momento no la ví más. Mi paciente era yo.