A Unicorn in my Forest: A Rabbit in my Bed

By Michelle O'Hare

A Unicorn in my Forest, A Rabbit in my Bed begins when Michelle, a thirty-year-old woman, decides she needs to get into therapy because she is having a lot of problems coping with her life. As her therapy continues, she discovers that she has repressed her memories of the physical, sexual, and emotional abuse she endured throughout her childhood. Her psychologist Tim understands that due to the trauma she faced, Michelle survived the only way she could, by constructing a safe fantasy world in her head. She also learned to feel shame and guilt instead of the healthy self-esteem that would have naturally developed had she been brought up in a loving nurturing environment. Tim creates a safe place where Michelle can become that little girl again and confront the monsters that haunted her. It is only by regressing back to her childhood and transferring all her unfulfilled needs for love, nurturing, and acceptance onto Tim that she is able to access the horrible memories of what happened to her as a child. She is also blindsided by the overwhelming anger she feels toward her mother for not protecting her. Once Michelle is able to replace her guilt and shame with a healthy self-esteem, she realizes that all the significant men in her life have shaped her into servicing their needs, with no regard for her welfare whatsoever. With Tim's guidance, she sees how these men have replicated her father's abuse to varying degrees. The book fluctuates between Michelle's therapy sessions and her life with her abusive husband, clueless mother, young son, and schizophrenic sister; her renewed relationship with the sexual predator who molested her throughout her teenage years; and her new deceitful boyfriend.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644629345

Book preview

Chapter 1

Before the Therapy

Michelle picks up the red plastic receiver to the wall phone in her mother’s kitchen and cautiously dials the number she had looked up in the phone book. She is thirty years old and about to do something that scares the hell out of her, but she is also excited about the possibility that it just might vastly improve her life. If only she has enough nerve to go through with it.

Hello, my name is Michelle Crawford, and I’m calling to set up an appointment to see Dr. Tim Cameron, she tells the woman on the other end of the line.

Six days later, she is sitting in the waiting room adjacent to what she assumes is his office. She had taken a clinical psychology class from him three years prior and knew that if she ever had enough money or insurance to get into therapy, it would be with him. Her life may be a hot mess, but her instincts about people are very good.

It took Michelle a couple of hours to decide what to wear this afternoon. She sorted through several outfits until she decided upon a cobalt-blue silk blouse, a black knee-length skirt, and a pair of black sling-back heels. Her long blond hair has been curled and pulled back with two tortoise-shell barrettes. She is also wearing the black pearl necklace and earrings that Aunt Ruby gave her for Christmas when she was eighteen years old. Her makeup consists of a light pink blush, violet eye shadow, brown mascara, and mauve lipstick.

Looking around the waiting room, she notices that there are two doors leading, she assumes, to a couple of therapy rooms. The receptionist is nice but not overly chatty, and she appreciates that.

After a few moments, the door opens, and there stands the person who will simply be known as Tim from now on. He is about six feet tall with sandy-brown hair and soft blue eyes. He has the kind of build that makes people feel comfortable—solid but a little squishy around the edges. Tim looks like his body would conform to whatever chair or sofa he has chosen to plop down on. He isn’t exactly handsome, but he has a nice face, and besides, there is tremendous kindness behind those sparkling eyes and sweet smile.

Michelle remembers him well from her psychology class at Overton University because once she got him, she realized that he is the kind of man people easily open up to—having no pretenses, airs, or image to uphold.

Hi, Michelle, it’s really good to see you again. Now I know who you are. I thought I recognized your name! I remember you from my clinical psychology class because you wrote a paper that stood out as one of the best I’ve ever read, and I really mean that! Why don’t you follow me to my office?

Okay, she meekly replies, really liking the compliment she has just received. Michelle can’t help but notice how Tim’s entire face lights up when he smiles at her, and she realizes that her instincts were spot-on when she chose him to be her therapist.

When she took his class three years ago, she didn’t understand at first. He was unconventional in his teaching, and he didn’t dress or talk the way the rest of her professors did. He just didn’t fit her image of what a college professor should be. At first, she wondered if she should drop the course, but after a couple of days, she understood. In short, he struck her as being very human, open, and sincere.

Michelle is told she can sit anywhere she likes, and after a moment’s indecision, she chooses the large tan sofa while Tim sits in a brown chair opposite to it. The first thing Michelle notices—other than Tim, of course—is that there are no windows in the room.

Can you tell me something about why you decided to set up an appointment with us? he asks.

Michelle is so nervous that she can’t formulate her thoughts for a couple of moments. Actually, she’s petrified! Tim waits very patiently, and she supposes he is used to this sort of thing.

Tim notices that Michelle is frightened. Her body is rigid, her breathing is shallow, and even though she is trying to keep it in check, he observes that she is trembling ever so slightly. He instinctively realizes that this isn’t going to be one of those three- or four-session deals.

When she finally recovers, Michelle replies, Well, I’ve been dealing with a lot of stuff. My sister Stephanie is mentally ill, and she’s been living with us. She’s been in and out of hospitals—when she was in her teens through her early twenties and now that she’s in her early thirties. She’s back in the hospital now, but she does get to come home some weekends.

Michelle hesitates for a couple of moments before continuing, and Tim never loses eye contact with her.

I’m the one who always has to deal with everything because my father is dead and my mother doesn’t even begin to know how to handle it. Stephanie gets so violent when she’s home that my husband or I usually have to call the police to take her back to the hospital. It’s been so stressful trying to cope with her and her illness that I’ve been realizing I need to talk to somebody, and I knew if I ever talked to anybody, I wanted it to be you.

That has to be extremely difficult for all of you, Tim reflects. I can understand that you need to sort through all the feelings this is bringing up for you and maybe explore different ways of dealing with it. This is definitely the place to do that!

Yes, it’s hard for my mother too. We are doing the best we can, but that doesn’t seem to be good enough because we can’t really help her. Stephanie’s back in the hospital now because she threatened me with my mother’s butcher knife, and we all knew it would just be a matter of time before she did something to me or tried to kill herself again.

Tim can hear the desperation in her voice. It sounds like your sister has a lot of deep-rooted anger bottled up inside.

You must have been first in your class, Michelle thinks, but instead, she responds with "You have no idea!

When I took her to the social service place in Easterly six months ago, they told me that she had rights and that I couldn’t just have her committed to the CMH. I just told them how violent she was and how we were afraid about what would happen, but they didn’t seem to care. I didn’t know what we were going to do, but thank God, Stephanie said, ‘If you don’t put me back in the hospital, I will either kill myself or my sister!’ They started the admission process immediately, and I took her up to the CMH that afternoon, but what would have happened if Stephanie hadn’t said what she did?"

Tim notices that Michelle’s hands are flying all over the place as she talks. Yeah, that’s often a catch-22 when you try to get people admitted. States are big on patients’ rights now, but that can leave the families in a real bind. I get that you must have a tremendous amount of frustration. No wonder you need to talk with someone! That’s an awful lot for anyone to handle, and you’ve been dealing with this on and off since you were a teenager?

Yes, it’s been a lifetime of frustration. Michelle tries her best not to cry, and Tim takes note. Stephanie is thirty-two years old now, and it started when she was sixteen and I was fourteen.

From what you’ve told me, I’m guessing that she was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Is that right, Michelle?

Wow, I’m really impressed because you picked up on that right away. How did you know?

It’s really not that amazing, Tim responds. The clue was her age. Schizophrenia usually starts when a person is in their mid to late teens. Well, this is certainly the place to talk about it. You must have so many painful feelings.

He never takes his eyes off of her as he says, I think coming here will help you, but I’m also thinking that you should work with Margaret Carlson, my partner. You remember her from when she team-taught my class a couple of days, right?

Michelle simply nods.

I think she would be the perfect fit for you. She is very empathetic and kind. What do you think?

Michelle swallows her disappointment; she swallows hard. But she is incredibly afraid and doesn’t have enough nerve to tell Tim that she needs it to be him. So instead, she nods again, and Tim sets her up with an appointment for the following week; she will see Margaret Carlson. Michelle cries all the way home.

*****

When Michelle arrives back home, her mother Betty is canning string beans and stewed tomatoes in the kitchen, and her son Michael is playing with his Matchbox cars and trucks in the living room. Neither one of them knows where she has been because she felt no need to tell them.

Her mother is sixty-seven years old with soft white hair that has been recently dyed a very light brown with blond highlights; it is short and permed. Her eyes are a pale blue, and even though she is constantly going on Weight Watchers, Betty still weighs well over two-hundred pounds. She has a very smooth complexion with few wrinkles on her face, and Michelle likes to think that this is because the fat fills them in.

Betty’s greatest pleasure in the world is feeding people or giving her family and friends vegetables, fruit, and flowers from her huge garden. She loves to cook, bake, preserve her homegrown vegetables, and make jams and jellies from the fruits she grows. She also makes beautiful braided wool rugs. In fact, they are scattered all throughout her house.

She is a very kind woman, but she doesn’t have the ability to put herself in other people’s shoes. Betty draws her own conclusions about people and has friendships with them based on her own suppositions, not based on their words or actions. Ever since Michelle can remember, her mother has been living in a sort of fantasy world, unable to stand up to anyone and creating her own special realities. Unfortunately, she married a man who was really abusive to her and her children. Betty’s survival mechanism has always been to make up fictions that don’t even begin to resemble the truth.

Michelle’s son is eight years old and the light of her life. In fact, she feels that Michael is the only good thing she has ever created in her entire time on this earth. She loves being his mother.

Life hasn’t been easy for Michael though. The year is 1980, and he was born in 1972. This is significant given the mixed races of his parents. Michael’s father, Andy, is African American with a broad nose, dark-brown eyes, bushy eyebrows that don’t quite separate at the bridge of his nose, coarse hair worn in a voluminous Afro, large lips, and skin the color of tan bleached-out autumn leaves. Even though his skin is very light, his features leave little doubt as to his ancestry. He is about five feet, eleven inches tall and has a very husky build.

Michelle, on the other hand, is Caucasian with crystal-blue eyes, naturally straight blond hair that falls to the middle of her back, skin the color of porcelain, and an overbite because her parents couldn’t afford to get the braces the dentist recommended when she was small. Her features are narrow, and she is a petite woman who measures five feet, three inches tall. She isn’t the norm when it comes to her looks, but most people find her pretty enough. Michelle and Andy couldn’t be more opposite in appearance.

Michael looks like a combination of Andy and Michelle. He has light skin, deep-seated green eyes with brown flecks in them, and russet hair with golden highlights. Michelle loves his hair. Ever since it first grew in, she has always joked about it being like mattress springs—if you pull one coil out, it always just boings back into place. Michael’s lips are full but not nearly as large as his father’s, and he has the narrow nose of his mother.

They live in a small rural town called Ashton in southern Rhode Island, a town that has virtually no African American population. Michael is the only interracial child in the school. All the other kids are white; heck, there aren’t even any Italians living there. As a result of having a colored father, Michael is picked on and humiliated nearly every day at school.

When Michael first started school at the age of five, Andy would often hold him in the early evenings, telling him stories like the one about the hawk and the prairie chickens where the hawk soars through the air while the prairie chickens just scratch in the dirt. He told Michael that he was the hawk and that the kids being mean to him were just prairie chickens who were jealous over his ability to fly so high. It always seemed to work because Michael usually wiped away his tears, smiled, and moved on to something else. Michelle loves Andy for this.

Michelle realizes that she can never know what it’s like to be an African American person in America. After all, she has never known the pain of being ostracized, ridiculed, beaten or even killed for being black. She hasn’t had to live in a community where everyone is kept firmly in their place, not being allowed the economic advantages that white people enjoy. Her schools didn’t just push her through like so much cattle, not caring whether she learned or not. But she does know what it’s like to suffer her child’s pain—to try to explain to him why people are being so mean to him when he has done nothing wrong. It hurts Michelle to watch her son bearing the brunt of so much learned ignorant discrimination.

When Michelle was pregnant, she and Andy did talk extensively about the problems their son would encounter when he was born. (Andy was positive it was going to be a boy even though no tests were ever done.) They understood that their mixed heritages would present particular difficulties—namely that racism would come from both directions.

Andy and Michelle ultimately decided that the best they could do was to raise their child secure in the fact that he was loved and to be proud of both his heritages; they knew he needed a healthy self-esteem in order to combat the bigots of the world. They thought this would ground him and give him the ammunition that would enable him to fight ignorance, but they never dreamed that so many people in their families would turn against them.

Andy’s only brother and Michelle’s two brothers disowned them as soon as they heard about the marriage, as did one of her mother’s brothers and one of her sisters, and her father’s brother and his wife. In fact, her father’s brother told everyone, This marriage is a sin. An abomination! God never intended ‘colored’ and white people to get married. After all, robins don’t mate with blue jays, and cardinals don’t mate with sparrows!

Michelle wasn’t prepared for this much hostility. These were people who professed to be Christians and espoused kindness and love, and they certainly should have known better. But she was soon to learn that racism is deeply ingrained and practically impossible to root out. Andy, on the other hand, knew, and after a lifetime of discrimination, he expected nothing more.

Michelle’s mother and Andy’s parents never wavered in their love for their children even though it was hard for them. Betty offered them a home as soon as she found out about the marriage, and Andy’s parents came up from Harlem to see them as often as they could. Michelle couldn’t help but wonder, Yes, her child would have grandparents, but who would be its aunts and uncles?

Michelle, would you like a cup of tea? her mom asks, breaking her from her reverie. Betty picks up the old stainless-steel kettle, fills it with water, and puts it on the burner of the gas stove. Her mother never waits for an answer when she’s about to feed someone! She pulls two of the bright-yellow-and-white mugs from the knotty pine cupboard, fills them with Salada teabags, and waits for the water to boil.

Would you like some Saltines and Velveeta to go with it? Betty asks, already in the process of digging the cheese out of the fridge.

That would be great, Mom, Michelle responds. You just don’t argue with Betty when she is intent upon feeding you! How was Michael this afternoon? Did you two do anything special?

We went for a walk in the woods when he got home from school. We saw some blue jays, a couple of cardinals, and a few lady slippers; but mostly Michael liked skipping rocks in the river. Oh, and we saw a couple of otters playing in the river. He thought that was awesome.

I know he liked that! Michelle responds. Thanks for taking him.

Oh pshaw, you know you don’t have to thank me! By the way, the psychiatrist from the CMH called and said that Stephanie is having a very good week. He’s thinking about letting her come home for the weekend. If she’s still doing all right tomorrow, do you think you could go get her and bring her home?

Michelle knows that this is never as easy as it sounds, but she also knows that she can’t say no to her mother and sister. Sure, I’d be more than happy to go get her.

Betty puts the tea, crackers, and cheese on the maple kitchen table; and the three of them sit down to their midafternoon snack. While they are eating, Michael very proudly displays his latest colorful drawings of Spiderman and Superman.

Wow! You did such a good job! Betty exclaims. Just look at how you stayed within the lines when you colored!

You really did, adds Michelle. I can’t believe that you drew them yourself! You are becoming quite the artist, you know that? They look like they could jump right off the page! Can I put them on the refrigerator for everyone to see?

Yeah, Mom, I knew that you’d like them! Michael nods and has a broad smile on his face. He is obviously pleased that his work has been praised.

Michelle, I was thinking about making meatloaf for dinner, but then I realized I need to use those green peppers from the garden. We’ve been getting so many of them this past couple of weeks. What do you think about stuffed peppers? Betty asks.

That sounds good to me. I know Andy likes them, but there are still so many! What are you going to do with the rest of them?

I’m going to take the rest to church on Sunday and share them with whoever wants them. You know that makes me happy!

Michelle can’t help but smile at her mother’s generosity. Yeah, I know. Do you want some help with supper, Mom?

No, I’ll get supper on the table in a couple of hours, but I could use some help watering. Do you think you could take care of the flowers in the front and on the side of the house while I work in the vegetable garden for another hour?

Sure, no problem, Michelle replies, and she and Michael go out front and start spraying the plants. For some reason, the water from the hose periodically misses the flowers, and Michael ends up with wet clothes. The two of them are laughing the whole time as Michael scuttles around the yard trying to dodge the spray.

When Andy finally materializes from the bedroom (he works the third shift at a pharmaceutical company in Northfield, Connecticut), Michelle takes him aside and tells him about her visit with the psychologist. Andy, who now has an excellent insurance plan that covers counseling, has given her permission to go, but he is anxious over the prospect of her talking with anyone about their marriage. He can almost see the handwriting on the wall. He has had everything his way since they first got together and is afraid Michelle will discover that she deserves more—to be treated better—but of course, he says nothing about it to her.

Instead, he replies, That’s really great, Michelle. I’m glad you’re finally getting to go.

"I am pretty excited, she responds. I hemmed your jeans and mended your yellow dashiki like you wanted. Oh yeah, I saw where Columbo is going to be on at eight o’clock this Sunday, so I marked it on the calendar."

They both look forward to Columbo, which is only on about once every three weeks, so it’s even more of a treat to watch. Andy and Michelle are also mesmerized by the way Peter Falk has nailed his character.

That’s cool. It’s such a great show, isn’t it? I really like how you get to see who did the murder at the beginning but have to figure out how the person gets caught! You know what? I’m gonna take a bath before I go into work, Andy replies.

I’ll call you when Mom and I have supper on the table. It should be ready in about forty-five minutes.

Meanwhile, Michelle sets the table while her mother finishes getting supper ready. Betty is cooking some of her homegrown green beans and mashed potatoes to go along with the stuffed peppers and Michelle’s homemade oat and pecan bread. They will be having grape-nuts pudding for dessert.

After dinner, Andy, Michelle, and Michael take a leisurely walk in the woods behind Michelle’s mother’s house. They really love to go down there, strolling through the dense covering of mostly oak and pine trees, wandering through the grassy meadow, and sauntering along the high banks along the river. Andy, who was brought up in the inner city, enjoys the fresh air and the privacy now that he’s used to it.

Michelle can remember one evening when Michael was about a year old. She put Michael in his stroller and walked about a mile up the country road to visit her cousin Cathy. Michelle told her mother where she was going before they left while the sun was still up. Cathy and Michelle were so engrossed in their conversation that it was dark when Michelle finally put Michael back in his stroller and headed for home. She was surprised to see Andy walking up the road to meet them and even more surprised to discover that Andy was carrying a loaded gun. Here was a man who had no fear of walking along any street in the dead of night in Harlem! But it all boils down to what’s familiar, doesn’t it?

This night, Michelle spends most of her time in bed agonizing over her inability to tell Dr. Tim Cameron how important it is for her to work with him and not Dr. Margaret Carlson. She tosses and turns and admonishes herself for not being able to be more assertive with him.

The following morning, she finally gets up enough nerve to call and see if she can get her appointment changed. When Tim calls her back a couple of hours later Michelle’s voice cracks as soon as she opens her mouth to say hello, but she stays on the line.

What’s up, Michelle? Tim asks.

She hesitates, which prompts Tim to ask, Michelle, are you still on the line?

Yes, I’m here. I just really need to talk with you about something important. She pauses again because she’s not used to speaking her mind to anyone, but she also knows how imperative it is for her to get the appointment changed.

I’m listening, Tim replies.

I know that you were doing what you thought would be best when you decided I should see Margaret Carlson instead of you, and I know that you weren’t manipulating me into doing anything, but it felt like I was being manipulated into seeing someone other than you. Michelle takes a huge gulp of air and continues, "For three years, I’ve known I needed to talk with someone, and for three years, I’ve known that you would be the one who could help me. I’m sorry, but please let me work with you," she implores.

To her surprise, he isn’t angry or upset; he simply says, Of course you can work with me. I had no idea that it was this important to you. I really thought that Margaret might feel safer for you. Besides, I also thought that you might benefit from working with a woman therapist. But I’m glad you were honest with me about your feelings. No offense taken.

Thank you so much! Michelle tells him. I know I should have told you that yesterday, but I was too afraid to say anything. Thank God he isn’t mad at me for telling him I didn’t want to work with Margaret Carlson, she thinks.

You don’t have to worry about telling me how you feel. In fact, for your therapy to work you need to be honest with me about your feelings.

Of course, you’re right, she simply says.

Relief is coursing through her veins as Tim sets up an appointment time. Michelle feels proud of herself when she hangs up the phone and immediately realizes that she is extremely excited and anxious about starting therapy with him. She had no idea then what this journey was going to uncover!

Chapter 2

Therapy Session Number One

Hi, Michelle, Tim says with a welcoming smile on his face. Why don’t you come with me?

Michelle follows Tim into his office and takes a seat on the sofa. The room is done in various shades of brown and tan with a few teal and navy-blue pillows scattered on the furniture and floor. There is a large canvas painting of orange and yellow poppies against an intense blue sky on the wall above the two brown chairs and small table, and another one of a vivid orange and yellow sunset reflected in the ocean on the opposite wall above the tan sofa. The room is welcoming, and she has to admit that it’s her favorite color combination. But even so, her whole body is tight, and her breathing is just on the surface as she waits for him to start.

Why don’t you tell me a little more about why you came here today? You mentioned last time that you have been having a hard time dealing with your sister’s mental illness. You can start with that if you want, or you can talk about anything else that you feel comfortable discussing.

Tim notices how tense Michelle is as she pauses before opening her mouth. He can see that she is trembling, desperately trying to keep herself firmly grounded on the sofa. He suspects that they will uncover a lot of trauma as therapy progresses.

This is really hard, she says. I don’t know where to start. She is fidgeting with the tie on her khaki wrap-around skirt, twirling it repeatedly around her right index finger.

Tim very softly says, Why don’t you tell me something about your sister? He instinctively realizes that he has to be extremely gentle in his approach with her.

Well, the whole family has been traumatized by Stephanie’s mental illness. She’s thirty-two now, but like we discussed last time, she was diagnosed with schizophrenia when she was sixteen and has had to have shock treatments two different times, back then and again this past year. She is very violent much of the time, but she does have some good days.

But you said that she’s living at the hospital now, is that right? Tim asks.

Stephanie’s living at the Clayton Mental Hospital, but she gets to come home on passes for the weekends every so often. I’m not sure what they’re actually doing for her because a lot of the time we end up having to call the police to take her back because she starts acting really crazy, pulling out knives and threatening me, throwing boiling water at me, hitting me, or trying to pull my hair.

Tim understands that Stephanie is dealing with a mental illness, but he also wonders about the trauma she likely experienced when she was growing up. That must be awful! I take it that she lives with you?

Yes, she does, but well actually, we all live with my mother at her house in Ashton. I have a husband named Andy and an eight-year-old son named Michael.

Is this behavior directed only at you, or does your sister do the same things to your mother, husband, and son?

No, it’s only done to me. Stephanie has always been extremely jealous of me and thinks that our mother likes me better than her. I suppose that it’s true, but it’s not my fault. I do everything I can to try to bolster her self-esteem and make her feel good about herself. I’m constantly pointing out the good things Stephanie does for my mother, who always picks up on the mistakes she makes instead of praising her for the things she does right.

It sounds like you are a very kind person, Michelle. A lot of people wouldn’t be that understanding of someone who is obviously very mean to them.

But it’s really not her fault. She can’t help it, Michelle replies, but somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she realizes that her mother has enabled Stephanie by letting her get away with everything. How many times has she heard, Stephanie’s sick, Michelle, so you need to be kind to her. Michelle has always had to swallow her own feelings and not say anything when Stephanie attacks her.

I get that she’s dealing with forces beyond her control, Tim says. Do you want to tell me more about the situation?

The last time I picked her up from the CMH for the weekend, I knew that she probably needed to let her hair down and chill for a while before dealing with our mother, so I stopped at a gravel bank just off the interstate. I parked the car, got out and climbed to the top of a sand bank, and slid down on my butt. Stephanie looked at me with a surprised expression on her face and then burst out laughing and quickly joined me. We had so much fun playing in the sand that I was sorry when I knew we had to leave.

Tim can’t help but smile. He notices that Michelle has let down her guard as she is relaying this information.

She was fine that Friday afternoon and evening and for most of Saturday, but late Saturday evening, she pulled a knife on me, and the police had to take her back to the hospital. My husband, Andy, rode with her in the back of the police car, holding her hand and telling her it was going to be all right for the whole forty-five minutes it took to get there. I was proud of him for that.

"That was a very compassionate thing to do," Tim reflects.

"The next week when I saw her, she was so mad at herself for the way she acted and said that she was sorry she ruined the weekend. I told her that the failure would have been in not trying to come home. After all, she had a great Friday afternoon and evening and a good Saturday, so the whole weekend wasn’t a bust."

That was very perceptive of you, Michelle. I think you handled that just right. She probably did need to release some of her pent-up emotions from being in the hospital, so stopping off at the sandbank was a great idea.

Thanks, she mumbles.

Tim is gazing into Michelle’s eyes, and she realizes that he really did mean the compliment. She is very happy that he recognizes what a good idea stopping off at the sandbank was.

But I also like your take on what constitutes failure. You are right. Failure isn’t about not having things work out the way you want, it’s about not trying. It sounds to me like you are being very kind to Stephanie even though she is very abusive to you. It was more of an observation than a question.

I know it’s not her fault that she’s sick. I’ve always had to be nice to her even when she is being cruel to me.

Tim realizes that there has to be a lot of anger behind that last statement and he simply says, That doesn’t sound very fair to me. It must make you mad to have to swallow your anger when she is lashing out at you. How do you feel about that? He notices that her hands are again flying all over the place as she’s talking.

Michelle looks at Tim with wide blue eyes and is carefully trying to formulate her answer. My mother always told me that I needed to be patient and understand that my sister was sick ever since it first started when she was a teenager. Sometimes Stephanie would get in my bed at night and laugh her head off. I’d ask my mother to make her leave so I could go to bed, but my mother never would. She would just say, ‘She’ll leave when she gets good and tired of being there. We can’t force her to leave because you know how she’ll get.’ I knew what she meant. She didn’t want to deal with one of my sister’s temper tantrums, but I couldn’t go to bed until well after one o’clock on many school nights.

It sounds like your mother had no control over things, that she was totally lost when it came to handling your sister, Tim tells Michelle. It doesn’t seem very fair to you though. How did that make you feel? How does that make you feel now?

Michelle’s hands are never still as she continues.

I guess I’ve just always known that I have to put up with whatever Stephanie dishes out. She’s two inches taller than me and weighs about the same, but she is really strong. She has blue eyes too, and she gets this crazy look in them whenever she doesn’t get what she wants. It’s never been about me. It’s always been about her and trying to get her better—but the thing is she never does get better!

Tim tries a different tactic. This whole situation has to be stirring up a lot of childhood issues for you. Do you want to talk about any of that?

Michelle squirms nervously on the couch as she thinks about what Tim asked. Ever since she can remember, nobody has considered her feelings; all of the family’s