You do not currently have permission to view the full text for this document. Please sign in to an account with an active subscription or contact support.
Gayle, a single woman in her forties, with a successful career in the arts, sought analysis with me because of feelings of chronic despair and hopelessness that had begun to permeate her work-life. The latter had always served as a primary resource for her feelings of self-worth and vitalization but had now become lackluster. Several of her “old faithfuls” had taken their business elsewhere, leaving her hurt, betrayed, and prone to angry, alienating outbursts.
These outbursts, while a familiar part of her history, had been more controlled over the past few years. She attributed this control to the Prozac she had been on ever since “The Great Depression,” as she has named it, which had occurred some five years earlier while in therapy with an individual more enchanted by Gayle's “glittery” life than cognizant or caring of her deteriorating psychological condition. She terminated her therapy and consulted with a psychiatrist who put her on Prozac. Her control was now slipping, and her current feelings seemed reminiscent of those experienced just prior to “The Great Depression.” A friend urged her to try psychoanalysis, and with clear ambivalence, she began the process.
The oldest of eight offspring, Gayle was raised in a strict Catholic household devoid of succor or emotional support. Her mother was a humorless, exacting, critical woman who served her father diligently while maintaining an aura of seething fury and resentment. Her father was remote for the most part, except when called upon to mete out harsh physical discipline, extending well into her adolescence. Hostile relations prevailed between her and her father up to his death some 20 years ago.
Gayle was the only child for the first five years of her life. She has an early memory of sitting in her garden, feeling good as the sun