Transference

There is a monster residing within Adam Barton, a malevolent presence that he will never, ever admit exists, not even to a whole plethora of Cognitive Behavioural Therapists or person-centred counsellors. While his overall persona is personable, liberal and perfectly acceptable although rarely what you’d call ‘chummy’, the monster is snappy – aggressively so – and bullying. It is moody, defensive, wilfully obstructive and scary-tense. You feel you ought to ‘pretend to be busy’ in its presence as if it is somehow your boss or an employer who loathes lethargy.

If the monster suddenly doesn’t want you in its presence you’ll find yourself walking the wet streets for hours until it has left the area or gone to sleep.

It is the monster/elephant in the room. It exists but is never acknowledged. Indeed, if you dared to even hint at its existence it would be you who would appear somehow deluded and wrong-headed.

The appearance of the monster makes you yearn for the ‘nice Adam’ to reappear; the humorous, gentle, eager-to-please Adam. Why must the monster get to hold sway and keep us all on edge?

And what on earth does Adam say to all these therapists he sees?

Do they get to see the monster?

No. Not a chance!

There’s no talking to the monster.