Chance as an ephemeral state of sudden luck—and overnight life becomes different: I am noticed, and I will inevitably become a great artist.
Chance as a concrete call to action—one more attempt to straighten things out so that life can flow according to a completely different script.
I am a doctor of psychotherapy science, a practicing psychologist with twenty years of experience and practice around the world. These are my stories—stories that can happen anywhere and to anyone.
They walk into the office and sit down next to each other on a small leather couch. Between them there is a space, filled by her expensive handbag, and they silently lean on their own armrests. On both faces—suffering: from what has happened to them, and from the fact that now they are forced to speak as three. I am their psychologist. I am the person who, over the next several sessions, will help them make sense of what has happened and arrive at an uncompromising conclusion about the viability of their family. My position is neutral: if the family can be saved, we will build a plan to do so; if not, an entirely different plan will be needed—how to exit the relationship without completely losing dignity, without traumatizing the children, if there are any, and, if possible, preserving warm, kind memories of the years they lived together, when smiles were spontaneous rather than strained.
Oh, if only it weren’t for treacherous chance! It had been lying in wait for James since childhood. Back in school, teachers bet on his bright mind, and with a fortunate turn of events he got his chance to go to a mathematics contest. Then came university, where getting a second chance to retake an exam was not difficult. And later—She gave him a chance to prove himself, and when the university studies were over, they hastily registered their marriage. Their family was strong; they supported each other in the best traditions of the times they lived in. Then came the time of change. His closest friend, who suddenly managed to make money, gave him a chance—and that chance became a lottery ticket into a completely new, unexplored life.
Children, schools, apartments, travel—they did everything together, hand in hand. Over the years passions cooled, the children grew up, different interests appeared, but they still walked through life side by side, supporting and helping each other. Inside, tension was building: James understood that he had succeeded in life, but the inner feeling of being an impostor never left him. It seemed he had achieved everything himself—yet no, it was his friend who gave him that first chance, and now the question “Was it really me?” forced reflection. He led people, yet the sense that he truly knew how to do it was constantly in doubt. In a way, a classic impostor syndrome. And so you live every day in fear that this grand scam will be exposed and everyone will find out you’re not really in your place.
A person adapts fear and often converts it into guilt or resentment. On the one hand, I’m an impostor; on the other, you wronged me yourselves—you “didn’t give me enough.” Maybe if I had received more—education, perks, anything—I would be in my place. And She would be proud of me, not looking at me with approval mixed with condescension. In her condescension there was acceptance, but no passion.
And then, when nothing seemed to foreshadow trouble, on a trip to some conference, a young woman quite by accident—by the will of that treacherous chance—sat next to James on the plane. What followed he himself recalls with difficulty, as if he were momentarily blinded by her admiring gaze and by the electrifying sex that followed the flight in the hotel. Punishment came the very next morning, when he realized he could not live a lie, and telling Her—the one who had shared everything with him for decades—was even more impossible. Gloomy and guilt-ridden, he wandered around the house, shuffling his feet, trying to provoke a conversation unpleasant for them both. It was his first affair, and he felt the dead end of the situation. She—Eleanora—also noticed his peculiar despondency, but did not want to take part in unpacking what was practically obvious.
Eleanora was magnificent—stunningly beautiful and devilishly smart. A slender woman of small stature with an incredible inner core. The transitional years were not easy for her either, yet despite having two children she managed to build a fairly successful business, which was sold in the early 2000s. Still, Eleanora remained in demand both in society and within the family, which she essentially ran. Public and charitable activities took time and brought satisfaction. Over the years Eleanora had many admirers, but she paid them no attention and proudly, almost like a banner, waved her husband—demonstrating the integrity of their family. Thoughts of infidelity had visited her periodically over the last ten years, as time spent apart began to exceed time spent together with James. Nevertheless, she was quite satisfied with the visual recognition of her beauty and the desirous glances of men around her, who looked at James with envy.
Now they sat in my office in silence. Eleanora did not know what to do with the truth he had told her, or how to continue living together. He had stumbled, and it was unclear whether he would be given another chance to straighten things out and rebuild the relationship—if not from scratch, then at least in a way that would keep him and Eleanora together and add passion to their calm, unhurried life, a passion that could emerge from the fear of losing each other forever.
Alongside family counseling, I also work with psychological typologies, personality types, and we created psychological profiles of Eleanora and James. We examined potential behavioral scenarios for their future lives, applied Emotionally Focused Therapy approach and much, much more.
Would they grow old together? Would they hold each other’s hand on their deathbeds?
Meeting them a year and a half later, I understand that James did get his chance. The mystery of what happened behind closed doors in our work will forever remain only their secret. In the process, they acquired another language—a way of speaking in which they understand each other at half a word. They opened a joint business at the intersection of their interests. And James gained an awareness of his own significance and shed the impostor syndrome.
They still walk hand in hand, supporting one another and allowing each other the right to make mistakes—but some mistakes, only once.
