Love Resolution

“Yes, I thought about it,” Marcus answered, shifting uneasily on the colorful couch. He ran a hand through his still wet hair, a result of his session with his other therapist, the treadmill.

The psychiatrist lifted a quizzical brow.

Unflinching, he returned her gaze, his eyes steely. “Maybe I have some self-worth issues.”

“Ok. So why do you think that’s the case?”

“I don’t know.” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Shouldn’t you tell me? Isn’t that why Mary’s paying you the big bucks?”

“Actually, you’re paying,” she reminded him, folding her hands lightly in her lap.

“I’m a lot like my mom, I guess.” He stood and paced up and down the length of the suite several times, brow furrowed. “We both live and breathe work. As a result our…my sense of identity is very tightly woven together with what I do. When I’m doing well professionally, when I feel in control of the process, then things are fine. But when I’m in a situation I can’t control or faced with a lot of negativity, I take it real personally. I decompensate. Like in Seattle when everything went to shit.”

“Marcus, no one can be in control one hundred percent of the time.” She finished typing. “What we have to do is develop coping strategies for those other circumstances. Fortunately, you have many resources to call upon. Your family and your fiancée come to mind.”

“I don’t have a fiancée.” His lips turned down. He reached a hand down into his jean pocket and fingered the ring. “Not anymore.”

“Oh?”

He dropped back down on the couch, opposite the rattan chair she sat in and put his head in his hands. After a moment, he glanced up and met her gaze. “I really f*cked up,” he admitted.

“Ah, yes, the woman who’s been on all the entertainment shows.” She glanced down at her computer. “I’m sad to admit that even I watch those things.”

“For the record, I didn’t sleep with her” he clarified, voice laden with self-reproach. “I just wanted Avery to think that I did.”

“It seems to me that you are way too focused on your shortcomings. Although, it’s noble to set high personal standards, the trouble comes when you continually punish yourself for not living up to them.” She met his eyes. “Marcus, you’re a perfectionist, but no one is perfect. You can’t define yourself by your flaws. We need to retrain the way you think about yourself. I want you to focus on the good things that make you the man you are, and when I see you tomorrow we’ll go over those, alright?”

“Be a real short list,” he muttered as he walked her out of his hotel room.