Dr. P handed the burn letter back to me. “You certainly didn’t pull any punches, did you?”
“Wasn’t that the exact point of the burn letter?” I asked.
“Oh yes, it’s just that some of my patients take the exercise more seriously than others, and you certainly took it seriously. I don’t think I’ve actually seen the f-word in print that many times . . . ever.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I was angry.”
“I know, but the question remains, who is it, exactly, that you’re angry with?”
I sat more upright. “Sam, of course.”
Dr. P held out his hand and motioned his fingers toward his body. I passed him back the burn letter, and he flipped to the fourth page. “You know, you spend a good portion of this letter talking about your career.”
“I wanted to be an actress, but instead, I work in casting.”
“Let me repeat your statement back to you. You wanted to be an actress, but instead, you work in casting instead. I didn’t hear Sam’s name once in that sentence.”
“I don’t know when it was, exactly, but at some point, my career took a back seat to his. Sam’s career was the one that was going to set us both up for the future, and I put all my stock in him. I understood that Sam’s career was for us, for our future, whereas my career was, I don’t know, it became more of a hobby.”
“Didn’t you tell me Sam was the one who encouraged you to audition for NYU?”
“What he really wanted was for me to audition for Julliard, but I didn’t think there was any chance I’d get in.”
“That doesn’t exactly sound like a non-supportive partner to me. What it sounds like is projection. Projection is a psychological defense mechanism by which individuals attribute characteristics they find unacceptable in themselves to another person. In your case, I wonder if you’ve managed to convince yourself that it was Sam who didn’t want you to pursue an acting career, when perhaps the real obstacle was your own fear of failure.”
I could feel my jaw and neck muscles clenching up. I thought back to when Stephen presented me the full-time position with The Gerber Agency. Over take-out Chinese food on our beaten-up leather couch, Sam and I talked through the offer, Sam even going so far as to write out a pros/cons list. On the pro side, he was sure working side by side with the best casting director in the world would give me insight into the industry and a better understanding of what top directors were looking for. In the con column, he noted that the job might take time away from auditions and acting classes.
In the end, Sam felt the networking opportunities I’d have working with someone like Stephen Gerber offset any negatives, but, if I was being honest with myself, he never pushed me one way or the other. Back then, my partying took precedent over my acting career. Fresh off a slew of missed auditions and harsh rejections, I was the one who made the final call, accepting the position and taking myself out of the acting game. For good.
After that, with each promotion, Sam would remind me I’d made the right call. For him, advancement equaled success, and in his estimation, my achievements far outweighed any regrets I might have. But, as the years went by and I saw dozens of other actresses winning the roles I dreamed of playing, the resentment began to build. I viewed Sam’s encouragement to continue advancing with Stephen as proof positive he didn’t believe in my talent, and after a while, neither did I.
I cleared my throat. “I’ve never looked at things that way before.”
Dr. P uncrossed his legs and put down his notebook. “This process isn’t about placing blame. One of the problems with pointing fingers is that both parties are right, and both are wrong, but you can only change your part in the equation. Joanna, all of us have flaws and ways that we attempt to defend ourselves from hurt, disappointment, or even grief.”
“Grief?”
“You also mention your mother’s death in the letter.”
“Aren’t these sessions supposed to be about Sam and our breakup?”
“Our sessions can be about anything that helps you better understand your role in the place you now find yourself in your life.”
“I don’t want to talk about her, my mother. I don’t see how she’s relevant.”
“We don’t have to talk about your mother until you’re ready.”
“And what if I’m never ready?”
“Do you want my honest answer?”
I nodded.
“I think you’ll keep finding yourself back here. Not at the Boot Camp, that’s not what I mean, but in this same place, emotionally. As the saying goes, we are bound to repeat what we do not repair. It’s human nature.” Dr. P glanced down at his wristwatch. “This seems like a good place to stop for today.”
“What time is it?”
He stood up from the big leather armchair and tucked his notebook under the crook of his arm. “It’s 9:45. I hope you took my advice from the last session and signed up for some of the activities going on at the resort?”
“Actually, I’m going oyster harvesting in Stump Sound at 11:00.”
“Well, doesn’t that sound just incredible? I had no idea the hotel ran excursions to Stump Sound. Let’s hope you get lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“Oyster harvesting. You never know, you may end up finding a pearl.”