mama3girls-phnig

My mother always said I had a creative mind.

She may have had a point.

She also spent many long conversations counseling me on the hazards of my creative mind. She called my strongest fault, “vain imaginings”.

Years later, while reading counseling theories, I came across a case study about a student who confessed love to a teacher.

What caught my attention was not simply the student’s confession but the question left hanging in the air: what exactly had the student fallen in love with?

The teacher’s kindness? Their attention? The role they occupied in the student’s life? Or maybe they fell in love with the teacher’s mind.

In therapeutic spaces, it is ethically vital for a therapist to understand the nature of projection and client safety.

Through a Jungian lens, the student’s feelings could be understood as a projection of unconscious desires and archetypal images onto the teacher. The teacher had become more than a person; they represented meaning, guidance, and qualities the student had not yet integrated within themselves.

Existential theory invites us to consider the student’s struggle with identity, freedom, and the longing for connection. Rather than focusing solely on the behavior, existentialism encourages exploration of the personal meaning behind the experience and the choices available moving forward.

RO-DBT adds another, more modern and neuro studied layer, by examining patterns of emotional expression, social signaling, and openness. Growth might involve increasing flexible responding, self-awareness, and genuine social connectedness while maintaining appropriate relational boundaries.

As I reflected on the case, I found myself thinking about how easily people become attached not only to people, but to ideas of people.

My mother’s warning about vain imaginings suddenly seemed less like criticism and more like an observation about human nature.

We all create narratives that help us make sense of ourselves and others. Sometimes those narratives are about who someone is. Sometimes they are about who we imagine them to be. Always they are about who we are and who we imagine ourselves to be.

The case study, unfortunately, did not include the conversation I wanted.

So I made one up.

Or perhaps I reconstructed one.
Or perhaps I built a cathedral out of three comments, a lesson, and a song lyric.

What follows is part imagination, part meaning-making, part counseling theory, and part evidence exhibit from the textbook case scenario.

The names have been removed to protect the guilty, the innocent, and the narrator.

Which is funny, since they are all in my head.

Counseling Theory
A built conversation to reflect on counseling theory framework integration of Jungian, Existentialism, Attachment Theory, and RO-DBT.

———-

Student: Remember that lesson?

Teacher: Which one? I’ve taught lots.

Student: “A student once asked me about dating two people at once. I don’t recommend it. Not that I would know anything about that.” Sound familiar?

Teacher: Ah. That one.
Student: The one where a teenager became a lesson illustration and the hairs stood up on the back of my neck?

Teacher: I always wondered how you almost failed theater.
Student: That’s rude.
Teacher: Is it inaccurate?
Student: Continue.
Teacher: The floor is yours.
Student: For once. I will talk fast.

You know why it stuck with me?

Teacher: Why?
Student: Because everybody wants to tell me you were oblivious.
Teacher: To what?
Student: People.
Teacher: I am a teacher. People are literally my job.
Student: Exactly.
Teacher: Student—
Student: No. My turn.
Teacher: Uh oh.

Student: You knew when I was hurting.
You knew when I was angry.
You knew which family member was which.
You knew when I was spiraling.
You knew when I needed a nap.
You even knew the exact nap time frame because you asked and I told you.

Do you know how many people have ever asked me that question?

Zero.
Teacher: That’s because normal people don’t keep office hours for naps and I was curious.

Student: See? This is why people like you.
Teacher: My devastating charm?
Student: Probably that too. I am not a fan of your charm. I was speaking of your relatability.

Teacher: You’re not a fan of my charm? That’s a first for me.
Student: Wow. Humble? Ever heard of that word? Or humility?

People are shallow.
Teacher: Do you teach the children this?
Student: Ignoring that. But you know I am not shallow.

Teacher: That, I do know.
Student: Because you notice things.
Teacher: That’s literally the job description.
Student: No. It isn’t.
Lots of teachers ask how people are doing.
You asked how my nap was.
Teacher: …

Student: You knew when I needed to “Lighten up, Francis.”
You knew what would make me laugh.
You knew what would make me think.
You knew what lesson illustration would send me into a writing frenzy.
You even sent me a song. You probably even knew what would

Make

Me

Cry

Teacher: It was a good song. You were planting wildflowers.
Student: That’s not the point.
Teacher: It usually is.
Student: See? That. Right there.
Teacher: What?
Student: You always do that.
Teacher: Do what?
Student: Deflect with a joke when things get uncomfortable.
Teacher: I prefer “strategically redirect.”

Student: I’m trying really hard not to hate you.
Teacher: You could never hate me.
Student: You are annoying.
Teacher: I resemble that statement.
Student: You sent me a song.
Teacher: Yes.
Student: And you knew songs mattered to me.
Teacher: I knew you’d listen to it.
Student: See? That’s not the same answer.
Teacher: No. It isn’t.
Student: That’s my point.

Everybody wants to tell me this was all in my head.
That you were oblivious.
That you had no idea.
And I don’t buy it.
Teacher: What don’t you buy?
Student: Why I don’t buy it is because

1. I told you how I was feeling about you.
2. Because a man who could remember conversations from years ago, who could tell when I was upset before I opened my mouth, who could distinguish between all the people in my family, who knew my history, who knew my nap schedule, who could finish my jokes and predict my reactions…
…was somehow completely unaware.

Teacher: Unaware—
Student: Complete the sentence!
Teacher: Student—
Student: No. Let me finish if you can’t fill in the blank space.
I told you I was “in love with your brain.”
Teacher: That was a weird Tuesday.
Student: It was a fantastic Tuesday.
Teacher: It’s not often a teacher hears words like these from a student. Usually half the class is asleep.
Student: True. You have a droning habit. Yet, I quoted you often because I enjoyed the drone.

I was awake.
I showed up.
I listened.
I stayed.
I asked questions.
I laughed at your jokes.
I remembered your lessons.
I wrote because of your lessons.
And somehow I’m supposed to believe you never noticed?

Teacher: I didn’t say I never noticed.

Student: There it is.
Teacher: There what is?
Student: An honest answer.
Teacher: You are gifted.
Student: DON’T. That is absolutely where I thought you would go and it is not going to work today.
Teacher: That doesn’t even make sense.
Student: It makes perfect sense in my head.
Teacher: Which is exactly the concern. But you are worth it.
Student: See? Deflecting.
Teacher: Surviving.
Student: Continue.

Teacher: Most people hear “gifted” and think it’s a compliment.
Student: And?
Teacher: I mean it the way a mechanic says, “Well, that’s interesting.”
Student: Rude.
Teacher: Accurate?
Student: Continue.
Teacher: You connect dots nobody else can see.
Student: Thank you.
Teacher: Sometimes because the dots are there.
Student: And sometimes?
Teacher: Sometimes because you brought your own dots.
Student: That is not a thing. Your data dots are turning into a solid line. There’s not a ton of blank space left between the dots.

“Please don’t compliment me.” Remember that?

Teacher: You have perfect grades. Have you ever heard of the saying, “can’t take a compliment.” You’re an outlier.

Student: Maybe. So…you’re admitting I’m special?

Teacher: I’m admitting you have an especially difficult timing receiving compliments.

Back to dots without data…It’s a thing.
Student: I’m listening.
Teacher: You notice patterns. Meanings. Subtext.
Student: Yes.

Teacher: You can build an entire cathedral out of three comments, a lesson illustration, and a song lyric.

Student: Did you come up with that on your own or is that a movie quote?

Teacher: I am great with movie quotes.

Student: And I am a great writer. I asked if you would celebrate the book I want to write and then you go silent and I am left “on read”. That hurt my feelings.

Teacher: I don’t always answer texts. Also, there are far too many books on astrophysics. I was hoping for a different subject all together.

Student: Right. Well, don’t hold your gifted movie quote breath waiting for a romance novel.

Teacher: (blank stare)
Student: So, what did you mean by “you’re gifted?”

Teacher: Admiration with a caution label.

Student: Ever listened to Taylor Swift?

“And I was never good at telling jokes, but the punch line goes, I’ll get older, but your lovers stay my age.”

Teacher: Student.

Student: Well…as in All Too Well? Teacher: You always wanted certainty.
Student: Because certainty is awful?!
Teacher: And I always knew you were looking for answers to questions nobody could answer cleanly.
Student: Such as?
Teacher: Such as how much I knew.
Student: Ah.
Teacher: Ah.
Student: So how much did you know?
Teacher: Still asking.
Student: Still breathing.
Teacher: Sigh.
Student: Well?
Teacher: Enough to know you cared. A lot.
Student: That’s not the same thing.
Teacher: No. It isn’t.
Student: Then what is?

Teacher: Understanding what someone feels and understanding what they mean are not always identical.

Student: That sounds like teacher language. Meaning, vague.
Teacher: Occupational hazard.
Student: I hate when you do that.
Teacher: Strategically redirect?
Student: Continue in obscure language and vague innuendo.
Teacher: Student?
Student: What?
Teacher: You always did assume the most fantastic explanation.

Student: And you always assumed the funniest one.
Teacher: Usually because it was better.
Student: Not always. Do you see me laughing? “He’ll be here all week, ladies and gents.”
Teacher: I prefer when you leave the jokes to me.
Student: You’re not as funny as you think you are. Again, deflecting. HOW MUCH did you know?
Teacher: Ah. Clears throat.
Student: There it is.
Teacher: There what is?
Student: The question. You usually clear your throat when you’re uncomfortable.
Teacher: The question you’ve been asking for years is uncomfortable.
Student: Yes. I’m aware. I live it in my body daily.
Teacher: And the one you’re never going to stop asking…
Student: Probably not.
Teacher: Lighten up, Francis.
Student: I wish I could. Tell my nervous system that.

Actually, don’t. You’d probably regulate me.

Teacher: I know.
Student: That’s the problem.
Teacher: No.
Student: What’s the problem?
Teacher: You always did love a good ending more than a true one.

Student: Says the man gifted with movie quotes. Also says the man who encouraged me to write a book not about the subject he taught—

Teacher: What’s the story about?

Student: Actually, that’s the thing.

Teacher: What thing?

Student: For years I thought this story was about you.

Teacher: Student—

Student: No. Listen.

I thought the mystery was you.

How much you knew.

What you meant.

Whether you noticed.

Whether you understood.

Whether you were aware.

Teacher: And?

Student: And lately I’m wondering if that was never the story.

Teacher: What do you mean?

Student: You asked me to write.

Teacher: I encouraged you to write.

Student: Same difference.

Teacher: Absolutely not the same difference.

Student: Fine. You encouraged me to write.

And somehow I spent years trying to solve the teacher instead of paying attention to the writer.

Teacher: Interesting.

Student: Don’t.

Teacher: Don’t what?

Student: Say “interesting” in that tone.

Teacher: What tone?

Student: The one that means you’re about to turn the entire conversation around on me.

Teacher: Occupational hazard.

Student: There it is.

Teacher: Student, every good question eventually changes direction.

Student: That’s infuriating.

Teacher: Usually.

Student: So you’re saying the story isn’t about you.

Teacher: I’m saying you’ve written several thousand words about me.

Student: Ouch.

Teacher: And somehow I’m still not convinced I’m the main character.

Student: That’s annoyingly good.

Teacher: I know.

Student: That’s the other problem.

Teacher: What?

Student: You usually do.

Teacher: Know? Yes.

Student: You’re not going to answer, are you?

Teacher: Finish the assignment.

Student: That’s your final wisdom?

Teacher: It’s the only assignment that’s actually due tonight.

Student: Figures.

Teacher: Goodnight, Student.

Student: Goodnight, Teacher.

The answer never comes.

Halfway to the parking lot, Uninvited begins playing in her AirPods.

Of course it does.

The teacher remains silent.

The song does not.

End Transcript

——

Now imagine that the student from this case study walks into my office.

The teacher is no longer in the room.

The unanswered questions remain.

The attachment remains.

The story remains.

But now the focus shifts.

For years, the student wanted to understand the teacher.

What he knew.

What he meant.

Whether he noticed.

Whether he understood.

Whether he was aware.

Reasonable questions.

Human questions.

Questions that filled journals, conversations, prayers, and perhaps an entire imagined transcript.

But eventually every good question changes direction.

The therapeutic task is no longer to solve the mystery of the teacher but to understand why the teacher became so central.

The therapeutic task is to understand the student.

What is it about this teacher?

Why this story?

What about this song is meaningful?

What benefit comes from all the sleepless nights and questioning?

And perhaps most importantly:

Why does the conversation still feel unfinished?

As a therapist, where would you begin?