Anger Management

"I want to apologize to you. I have been unhappy and I have been taking it out on everyone ... everyone that I love and who matter to me. Your father and I are going to see a counselor to help us get through this. I don't know what will happen to ... us ... I mean in the future. I hope that I can win back his love and trust, but only your father can decide that. For now, all I can do is apologize and tell you how sorry I am that I have hurt you, and that I will do everything I can to make it up to you." She had almost regained her composure. Her declaration had a positive affect on me.

The children were silent until Marion got up and went to her mother and hugged her. The two had tears and yet smiles as well. Jon sat in his chair, tears streaming down his face. He looked so lost and hopeless. Finally, he rose and walked slowly and quietly up to his room, closing the door behind him. I felt sorry for him. When he had settled down I would talk to him. Right now was not that time.

The next few days were futile at work. My mind wasn't on it and I knew it. I went in to see Gerry Turnbull, the general manager, and explained that I was having some problems at home. I needed a few days to try and straighten things out. He was good about it, perhaps because he sensed that it was more than just a small domestic problem. I told him that I had talked to Pat in H.R. and we would be getting professional help. He was pleased to hear that. He wished me luck. He said that I should see Pat about a medical leave and he would authorize it. I thanked him and left, sensing the first steps toward regaining control of my life had now been taken.

My medical insurance would cover the counseling sessions as long as the counselor was at least a licensed psychologist. Pat said that she had heard of some successes with a Dr. Theodore Sharpe, and she suggested I talk to him. I called him and arranged an appointment for early the following week. I wanted to meet him first before committing Rebecca and me to someone I didn't particularly like. Someone like Dr. Chomsky.

I met with Dr. Sharpe the following Monday afternoon. He was fairly young, younger than me I guessed. He was a Doctor of Divinity who had resigned his position as pastor at a local church to set up a counseling practice. He didn't just do marital problems, but youth mentoring, business personnel assessment, and even hiring interviews. He was informal, near enough to our age, and had a reassuring manner about him that immediately put me at ease. I was hopeful he would be a good choice, but I could only trust that he would be able to help us.

The intervening period between our talk with the children and our first appointment was peaceful. I thought there was an improvement in the atmosphere in our home. Rebecca was a bit more upbeat, if not completely happy. She was clearly trying to be more positive, and it seemed to be working. Marion had given her mother her unconditional support. She didn't approve of what she had done, but she saw her confession and remorse as genuine. As children often do, she had forgiven her.

Jon was heartbroken, thinking that the family may be broken up as a result of her actions. He was not so forgiving and was distant with his mother. Rebecca wisely didn't try to explain or change his mind. She left him alone, and it would be up to me to talk to him.

He had a baseball game early Saturday afternoon, and I went with him while Rebecca remained at home. Marion was off with one of her friends for the afternoon.

Jon's team won the game 4-2, and Jon had a hit, an RBI, and made a great catch in right field to save a run. He was in a good mood when he came out of the dugout, and we walked toward the car. I thought it was the ideal time to talk to him.

"Jon, do you think you'll be able to forgive your mother?" I asked cautiously.

He looked at me and the happiness of the game vanished in a second. "I don't know. I don't think so," he said simply, turning away from my gaze.

"That's pretty harsh, Jon. You mother made a mistake and admitted it to us. We all make mistakes," I suggested.

"This is different," he said. "She hurt us, Dad. She cheated on you and she hurt us," he said as the tears began again. He leaned against the car and it all came out of him. He was distraught, and I could see that he needed comfort. I opened the car door and helped him in. His head was down on his chest, his body wracked with sobs.

We sat there for a while as he finally began to compose himself. I had not understood the depth of his despair until now. I knew he was upset, but the big, blonde teenager was beside himself. His wounds were deep and would not easily be healed. I took stock of myself and wondered why my son could release all this grief and pain, and I could not.

By the time we got home, Jon had gathered himself and headed directly for the shower. He passed his mother saying nothing. Rebecca looked at me with a sad, questioning expression. I had told her I would talk to Jon today. She must have guessed it didn't go well. I took her hand and led her out onto the back deck.

"He broke down, Rebecca. He just came unglued. I asked him he could forgive you and ... he said he didn't know, but he didn't think so," I said sadly.

Rebecca had a dejected expression. She looked absolutely deflated, but said nothing.

"I won't give up, dear. I'll work with him. We may need to include him in our counseling. I don't know," I offered. "Don't you give up either. We have a long way to go. It's just beginning," I said with more optimism than I felt.

She nodded and came to me to hug me. I admit, it felt good. I was beginning to come to terms with our reconciliation. I wanted us to repair the damage and carry on with our lives. We might never be the same again, but if we could get close to rebuilding our relationship, maybe that would be enough.

We met with Dr. Sharpe on Monday morning. It was a nervous Rebecca that accompanied me to his office. I had told her what to expect when meeting him, and it seemed to help her become more comfortable. She confessed she was worried that he would take a hard-line view, and condemn her for her sins. I assured her that he wasn't that type of man. As she met him and we chatted for a few moments, I could see her begin to relax a little.

"Well, we all know why you are here. Why don't I tell you a little about myself and what I will try and accomplish with your help," Dr. Sharpe began.

We nodded and he gave us a brief synopsis of his background, education and experience. Considering his youth, I thought he had accomplished a remarkable amount in his career. I was becoming more confident. More importantly, Rebecca was more tranquil, even smiling now and then.

"Now that we've established who I am, why don't I tell how I want to conduct these sessions. I would like to see each of you individually for one hour each week, prior to our joint session. If you can arrange it, Rebecca, I would like to see you on Monday, Warren on Wednesday and both of you on Friday. Is that possible?" he asked, smiling.

"Yes, I can manage that," I said quickly. Rebecca nodded her agreement as well.

"Good, I'll have a schedule set up for us and we can get started this week. If you can come in tomorrow afternoon at four, Rebecca, we can catch up on this week's schedule. In the meantime, I want to take this first session to familiarize myself with the situation and the events that led to your crisis. Why don't we begin with you, Rebecca? Tell us what happened in your own words," he said gently.

She was caught by surprise. She hadn't expected to be put in this position so quickly, I guessed. She stammered and stuttered until I put my hand on hers and squeezed gently. She looked at me, and then at Dr. Sharpe, and finally began.

It took Rebecca twenty minutes to tell her story. Dr. Sharpe would interrupt to ask for clarification or more detail every so often. I sat and listened. It was the first time I had heard her confession in complete form, and I was fascinated in a perverse sort of way. She recalled the meeting of the unnamed man at Joyce's house and how he had over a period of a week, injected himself into her life. After her three visits to his apartment in the span of one week, and having accomplished his objective, he disappeared.

It had ended as abruptly as it had begun, and Rebecca was grateful. She had been experiencing guilt about the liaison. She was going to break it off herself when he suddenly left without a word. Rebecca asked Joyce about him, but she knew nothing of his whereabouts. Rebecca felt safe that he would not be back to bother her again. She told none of her friends about their meetings, but wondered if they had guessed what had happened.

She talked of the gathering guilt of her infidelity, and how it began to weigh on her more each day. She knew she was unhappy and knew the reason for it, but did not know how to deal with it. More than once she resolved to confess her infidelity to me, but each time she wavered, and then put it off. She kept hoping that it would all vanish in time, but exactly the opposite happened. It got worse. Her loss of self-worth was becoming more acute with each week that passed.

Dr. Sharpe then asked me to tell him about the past years, particularly the last year and my learning of her being with another man. I had to gather my thoughts for a moment. I expected the question, but still hadn't decided how to portray the events of the past year.

I told him of the loving years and then the deterioration of the atmosphere in our home. Two years ago, we had marital relations at least twice a week and often more. It began to decline a year ago, and as her mood darkened, our frequency was down to less than once a week. It was lacking the spontaneous and loving nature of the past. Finally, in the past two months we had sex only twice, and both times it was perfunctory and unsatisfying.

I told him about seeking professional help and my unsatisfactory meeting with Dr. Chomsky. I recalled Rebecca's outright refusal to acknowledge the problem or see any doctor. Rebecca was looking away, trying to avoid us as I told Dr. Sharpe of the two confrontations and finally, her confession.

"How did you feel when Rebecca told you about her affair?" he asked quietly.

"Devastated. I couldn't believe it. I didn't want to believe it. I just couldn't get my mind around it for a while. I wanted to ask her a thousand questions, but I was afraid of the answers. I did everything I could not to explode, and do something I could never take back," I admitted.

"What would that have been, Warren?" he asked.

"I might have hit her. I wanted to. I wanted to scream at her, I wanted her to understand the pain that I felt. It took every bit of my self control to resist either." I sat back in my chair, tense and angry, gripping the arms of my chair as tightly as I could. I looked over at Rebecca and she had her hands on her cheeks, and a look of total shock. I must have frightened her, because she wasn't crying, but she couldn't look at me.

"And how do you feel now ... now that some time has passed?" he continued.

"I don't know. I want to forgive, but I can't forget. I want my wife back the way she was before ... before all this happened. We had so many good years ... I want them back again," I said in despair. I turned to Rebecca and she had turned to look at me. She had a look of hope about her that I didn't understand. Did she think that we could turn the clock back a year and start again?

"Tell me about your children, Warren."

"Jon, our son, is sixteen and only a year away from finishing high school. He's taking it very poorly. In fact when I tried to talk to him last Saturday, he completely broke down. He's having trouble with his mother's ... mistake. I think he's going to need help getting over this, doctor," I concluded.

"I see. And your daughter, Marion I think you said her name was? How is she doing?"

"Better. She's fourteen, and more mature than you would expect. She has forgiven her mother, and they have been able to carry on pretty much normally I think," I said, looking to Rebecca for confirmation. She nodded her agreement, and I could see her release some of the tension in her shoulders when she did.

"What about your other family members? Your parents?" he asked.

"My parents live in Arizona and we don't see them very much," I answered. We haven't said anything to them and wouldn't unless ... uhmmm ... unless this doesn't work out." I felt rather than saw Rebecca stiffen.

"My parents are no longer alive," Rebecca started. "My father was killed in a car accident five years ago, and my mother died a couple of years ago of heartbreak. She couldn't go on without Dad," Rebecca said sadly.

"I'm sorry to hear that. That must have been very hard to accept ... losing both parents so quickly and so young," he offered. "Were you close to your parents," he asked, directing his question to Rebecca.

"Yes ... very ... they were very fond of Warren and their grandchildren. I was their only child, so our children were special to them," she said sadly.

"Warren, what is your relationship with you parents like?" he asked more directly.

"Not bad. We don't see each other much, but we get along fine. They like their grandchildren too, but I have a brother and a sister who have a passel of kids themselves. There's no shortage of grandkids for Mom and Dad to spoil," I grinned.

"And how is your relationship with Warren's parents, Rebecca?"

"Fine. They've always been very nice to me. I think Warren's success came as a bit of a surprise to them, and his mother thinks I'm partly responsible for that," she smiled. It was the first sign of a lightening of the mood in the room in several minutes.

"Why would they be surprised?" he asked me.

"Uh ... well ... I'm just a high school graduate and I think they were disappointed that we got married so young and I didn't go to college. I think they thought that it would limit my career. I never worried about it, but they did. My brother and sister are both younger, and both went to college," I finished.

"OK, I think that's enough for today. Rebecca, are you OK with being here at four tomorrow afternoon? It will be our first one-on-one," he smiled.

"Warren will have to look after dinner, but ... he needs the practice," she smiled. I had to smile too. I could cook about as well as I could walk a tightrope. We would be having take-out tomorrow.

For the next four weeks, we went to the sessions, and I think we co-operated with Dr. Sharpe completely. I was a bit more optimistic about the outcome, if for no other reason than Rebecca's acceptance of the process and her more positive attitude of late. It was the fifth joint session that brought the whole program into focus.

"I thought today, I'd tell you what I think I've learned about you and what may be the pathway forward for you as a couple," Dr. Sharpe began.

Both Rebecca and I sat up in our chairs and paid close attention to him.

"There are some things about you as individuals that I have learned that you may or may not be aware of. Some of them are keys to why you have behaved as you did over the past years. Some of them may seem obvious, but let's talk about them anyway," he said calmly.

"Rebecca, the man you had sex with a year ago was a predator. You didn't know it at the time, but he set out to seduce you and he succeeded. When he was finished, he simply abandoned you. You had fulfilled your purpose, and he had no further use for you. I know that is a harsh assessment, but from what you've told me, I believe it is an accurate one."

Rebecca looked shocked, but said nothing. I don't think it ever occurred to her that she had been duped and manipulated. I was sure of this from the beginning based on her description of the events, but it took Dr. Sharpe to confirm it.

"You also have a quick temper which you use as a defense mechanism. It isn't far below the surface unless you are very comfortable with yourself. For some years, it was held down because it was seldom, if ever, needed. When you were young, it was ready to pop out any time it was required. If you were insecure or threatened, you used it to ward off those emotions, and for the most part it worked. It worked in your marriage because Warren chose not to respond. It was only when you pushed him to the limit that he was forced to challenge you.

"Warren, you have been bottling up your emotions for a very long time. Your father taught you the value of suppressing your emotions and absorbing the blows. He taught you stoicism and a willingness to soak up mental punishment. Unfortunately for you, intellectual rope-a-dope doesn't always work. In this case, you came to that conclusion almost too late," he paused.

"I'm pretty sure that Jon is suffering from 'an angel falling from grace.' By everything you have told me, and from my interview with him last week, I believe he held his mother to be a saint. When she revealed that she was not, it was more than he could handle.

"We know now, or think we know, that babies bond with their mothers almost from birth. By all accounts Rebecca, you were a marvelous mother. You were patient and loving and supportive and everything a mother should be with both Jon and Marion. In all likelihood, you are the dominant parent in this family unit. Warren agrees that you were the reason for their turning into ideal children, and soon, adults."

Dr. Sharpe stopped for a moment, took a sip of water, looked at us for some reaction, and hearing none, continued.

"Rebecca, I think the death of your parents had an enormous impact on you, which you too suppressed. You have told me how close you were to them and how important their love was to you. I imagine that your parenting skills came from them as they raised you. You knew that was the way you wanted your children to be brought up, and it almost came naturally to you. You were simply mimicking your past.

"Their deaths were a contributor to your vulnerability. They were anchors for you, and when they were gone only Warren remained to steady things for you. But Warren didn't react emotionally the same way that your parents had, did he? He had other ways of dealing with problems and pressures. You didn't doubt his love, but you needed something else when you lost your parents, and he didn't recognize that. Your short-term lover did. He saw it right away, and went to work on you," he concluded.

Finally, I had to say something. "How could he possibly recognize something as unknown and subtle as that?" I demanded. "It had happened a year earlier."

"I don't pretend to understand the mechanics of the mind of someone like him, but they have an innate ability to recognize vulnerability. Simple conversation and adroit questioning can draw out this information very easily. Then, they simply choose the strategy that fits the situation," he explained.

"But, I didn't tell him very much," Rebecca protested.

"You told me that you enjoyed talking to him and that he was a good listener. Do you remember what you talked about? Did you tell him about the death of your parents? Can you recall the conversations today?" he asked pointedly.

"No ... no, I guess not. I'm not sure what I told him. He was so ... easy to talk to. I probably told him all kinds of things about myself and our family. I just don't remember," she admitted.

"Yes. Easy to talk to. That's the key. So, the idea that you seduced him is not likely," Sharpe concluded.

"I thought that when she first told me about him," I offered.

"I think you would likely reject the idea of Rebecca being the instigator anyway, Warren. That would be a pretty bitter pill for you to swallow," he said.

I sat there thinking about what he was saying. I didn't want to believe anything truly bad about Rebecca. I would have had to deal with it much differently than this situation, I thought.