Page 43 of Body and Soul

“Then you understand there will be a consequence for your lapse in protocol?”

“Yes, Sir. I apologize, Sir.”

I considered him, taking in the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands trembled. Eli’s past left him with a deep-seated fear of punishment, a fear we were reshaping into a healthy respect for consequences.

Since it was his first offense, and given in his excitement, the consequence was light. I had him sit in silence for five minutes to reflect on his mistake, and he didn’t repeat it.

Unlike my patient that afternoon, who showed no interest in learning from his mistakes.

I leaned back in my chair, studying the man across from me, a longtime patient in his mid-forties who had been seeing me for years to work through issues with intimacy. Today, he seemed to regress, slipping back into avoidance.

“I don't know why I bother with relationships,” he said, bitterness tinging his voice. “It's pointless. I always get bored. I always cheat. I’m never going to change.”

I let his words hang for a moment. “That’s a big step, admitting your faults. However, that's an absolute statement.”

He shrugged, gaze fixed on the floor. “That's my experience.”

“And yet, you pursue relationships,” I pointed out. “Either you have masochistic tendencies or you believe deep down that statement is false.”

His jaw clenched. I could see the war in him, the desire for connection battling against the fear of vulnerability.

“Let’s examine the process instead of the outcome,” I suggested. “What patterns do you notice in how you approach potential partners?”

He was silent for a moment. “I come on strong at first. I'm attentive, almost overbearing. But then I pull back, find excuses to be busy, nitpicking flaws in the other person.”

“And what drives that behavior?”

“Fear, I guess. Fear of being hurt. If I cheat first, I can't get blindsided.”

“That's insightful, but perhaps flawed. Fear is a powerful motivator, but so is the desire to control. You were hurt when your first wife cheated. To avoid feeling that pain, you do thesame to your partners. When you catch yourself making that assumption, you need to learn to correct it.”

“But I don’t know I’m making that assumption. Not consciously.”

“The subconscious mind operates beneath the surface, guiding our actions without us realizing it. But we can change its patterns. The first step is awareness. When you feel that urge to pull away, take a breath. Ask yourself if it's fear talking or if there's a legitimate reason to distance yourself.”

Alexander nodded slowly. “And if it is fear?”

“Then you have a choice: give in to it or push through, taking a calculated risk to remain open to connection.”

I could see the wheels turning in his mind, the struggle playing out on his face.

“I want you to start a journal before our next session,” I said. “Whenever you feel that urge to sabotage a connection, write down the situation, thoughts, and feelings. The act of writing will help bring those subconscious patterns into awareness.”

He frowned, but nodded. “And then what?”

“Then, in our next session, we'll review your entries. This isn’t about judging yourself, but understanding your mind and motivations.”

Uncertainty flickered in his eyes, fear of vulnerability battling his desire for change.

“Remember, growth is rarely comfortable,” I said softly. “It requires us to confront parts of ourselves we’d rather keep hidden. But on the other side lies potential for true transformation, unburdened by our past traumas.”

He took a deep breath, his shoulders squaring. “I’ll try.”

“Trying is the first step,” I replied, a small smile forming. “The rest will follow.” I rose, signaling the end of our session. “I look forward to reading your journal entries next week.”

He stood, shaking my hand with newfound resolve. “Thank you, Dr. Laskin. I appreciate your guidance.”

I maintained my professional demeanor as we stepped into the lobby.

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