In this week's blog, "Panic," the present rekindles the past when a man's wife asks him for a divorce. Overwhelmed by panic just as he was as a child when his mother emotionally abandoned him after the death of his father, he looks to his therapist for a magical solution.

“I couldn’t wait to get here,” Ray says, almost breathless. “Pamela asked me for a divorce. She said we’ve been working on our relationship for years and it just doesn’t get any better. She wants out. She wants a chance to find greater happiness with someone else.”

“I’m sorry, Ray,” I say empathically.

“I…I’m a mess. I don’t think I’ve slept two hours since she told me. I never thought she’d leave me. I don’t know what to do. I can’t think straight. I’m like beyond panicked.”

“What’s fueling your panic?”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I can certainly understand you’re feeling sad and scared and maybe even angry, but what’s underneath your panic?”

“I’ll be alone. She’ll leave and take the kids and I’ll be alone. Oh my God, I can hardly say that. I can’t breathe.”

“I’m here. You’re not alone now. Take a few deep breaths and then let’s try to look at what feels so terrifying to you about being alone.”

Ray looks at me incredulously. He buries his head in his hands and tries to slow his breathing. He bursts into tears.

I sit silently while Ray cries, hoping he has broken through some of the anxiety to feel his sadness underneath.

“Why? Why? Why did she do this?”

Ray’s shock about his wife’s decision is rather surprising to me since they have indeed been working on their relationship for years. Ray told me she had repeatedly said she was unhappy in the relationship, feeling him unable to give to her emotionally or sexually.   

“What did prompt her decision?” I ask.

“I don’t know. Maybe because we didn’t have sex?” he says questioningly.

“You’ve told me that has been one of Pamela’s consistent complaints. That you withhold from her.”

“Do you break up a 15 year relationship because of sex?”

Ray’s consistent disbelief feels incredibly naïve to me. I even wonder if it’s disingenuous. Then I have another thought.

“You feel very much like a scared, hurt child to me,” I say gently.

Crying again, Ray mumbles, “That’s exactly how I feel.”

“So perhaps that’s why you’re panicked. When a child is left he feels panicked because he can’t survive without his mother - or some caretaker.”

“So you think Pamela’s leaving me feels like my mother leaving me?”

I nod.

“But my mother never left me.”

“That’s not exactly true Ray. You’ve told me how she reacted after your father died.”

“Yeah, that’s true. Before I was seven – when my father died – we had a very close relationship. In fact, she was all over me. Sometimes I just wanted to get away from her. It was too much. But after he died, I don’t know, it was like she died too. She got so depressed and didn’t want me anywhere around. In fact she shipped me off to her sister’s for a while. It was awful. My cousins hated me. I’m sure they didn’t want another kid in the family. I had to change schools and that was awful. The whole thing was awful.” Pause. “And when I went back home, my mother still rejected me.” Pause. “And then she started dating. That was worse. All those men. And then my step-father. The whole thing was a nightmare.” Pause. “You know what just went through my mind? I wanted my Mommy back.”

Crying, Ray adds, “And that’s how I feel right now. I want my Mommy. Except it’s Pamela.”   

I remain silent, thinking this is not the time to explore the meaning behind Ray’s similar feelings about his mother and Pamela.

“I guess that helps explain my panic,” he continues. “But it doesn’t take it away,” he adds, looking at me beseechingly. “Can’t you take it away?”

“So perhaps now I’m the Mommy who you want to take away all your fears and sadness.”

“Can you?”

“That’s clearly your wish, but I’m afraid I have no magic wand.”

“No?”

“No, but we can look at your desire for that magic wand, for the all-powerful, all-perfect mother who can take away all your fears, all your sadness so that you feel nothing but perpetual bliss.”

“Sounds wonderful.”

“But I wonder if it would feel wonderful or, as you said before about your early mother, whether it would feel too much and you’d want to get away.”

“I don’t know. Right now it sounds wonderful.”

“When faced with abandonment you yearn for closeness, but when there’s closeness it can feel like too much and you yearn to get away.”

“I don’t know. I can’t deal with all that now.”

“I understand. We’ll have plenty of time.”