Creatures of a Day: And Other Tales of Psychotherapy Read Online Free PDF Page B

seen our Russian friends, driven to Napa Valley, gone to the San Francisco opera, and dined at fine restaurants. But somehow this time it’s not the same. How to put it? The Russian word is ostrannaya . I’m not truly here. Nothing that happens sinks in. I have insulation around me; I feel it is not me here, not me experiencing these things. I’m anxious, very distracted. And not sleeping well. I wish my English was better to describe things. Once I lived in the US for four years and took many lessons, but my English still feels clumsy.”
    “Your English so far is excellent, and you’re doing a good job describing how you feel. Tell me, how do you explain it? What do you think is happening to you?”
    “I’m bewildered. I mentioned I needed a four-year psychoanalysis long ago, when I was in terrible crisis. But even then I did not have this feeling. And since then life has been good. Until now I’ve been completely well for many years.”
    “This state of not being in your life. Let’s try to trace it back. When do you think this feeling began? How long ago?”
    “I can’t say. It’s such an odd feeling and a vague feeling that it’s hard to pinpoint it. I know we’ve been in California for about three days.”
    “Your email to me was written a week ago; that was before you came to California. Where were you at that time?”
    “We spent a week in New York, then a few days in Washington, and then flew here.”
    “Anything unsettling happen in New York or Washington?”
    “Nothing. Just the usual jet lag. Pavel had several business meetings, and I was alone to explore. Usually I love exploring cities.”
    “And this time? Tell me exactly what you did while he was working.”
    “In New York, I walked. I . . . how do you say it in English? . . . looked at people? People watched?”
    “Yes, people watched.”
    “So I people watched, and I shopped and spent days visiting the Met museum. Oh yes, I am certain I felt good in New York because I remember that, on one beautiful sunny day, Pavel and I took a boat trip excursion around Ellis Island and the Statue of Liberty, and I remember we both felt so wonderful. So it was after New York that I started going downhill.”
    “Try to recall the trip to Washington. What did you do?”
    “I did what I always do. I followed my usual pattern. I visited Smithsonian museums every day: the Air and Space, Natural History, American History, and, oh yes, yes! There was one strong event when I visited the National Gallery.”
    “What happened? Try to describe it.”
    “I was so excited when I saw a huge outside banner announcing an exhibition on the history of ballet.”
    “Yes, and what happened?”
    “As soon as I saw that banner, I rushed inside the gallery, so excited that I pushed and forced my way to the front of the line. I was looking for something. I believe I was looking for Sergei.”
    “Sergei? You mean your first husband?”
    “Yes, my first husband. This won’t really make sense to you unless I tell you some things about my life. May I present some of my highlights? I’ve been rehearsing a speech for days.”
    Concerned that she was about to go on stage and that her presentation might use up all our time, I responded, “Yes, a brief summary would be helpful.”
    “To start, you must know I absolutely lacked mothering and my lifelong feeling of lack of mothering was the central focus of my analysis. I was born in Odessa, and my parents separated before I was born. I never knew my father, and my mother never spoke of him. My mother hardly spoke of anything. Poor woman, she was always ill and died from cancer just before I was ten. I remember at my tenth birthday party . . . ”
    “Natasha, sorry to interrupt, but I have a dilemma. Believe me, I’m interested in all you have to say, but at the same time, I’ve got to be timekeeper here because we have only these two sessions, and I want, for your sake, to use our time