Single File by Susan Deitz

DEAR SUSAN: As a therapist (with a doctorate), I feel terribly guilty about a recent ordeal with a client. I made an advance toward this beautiful woman I was counseling. I couldn't help myself because I felt she returned my feelings. (We're both married, but I was prepared to ask for a divorce and felt strongly she was, too.) Then I played a mind game with her and made her believe I didn't make the advance. (I know she's smarter than that, though.) But because of her fragile state of mind, things ended sadly. Now I feel she's scarred for life.

To apologize for what happened would jeopardize my career, and I don't want to do that. I've worked too hard for what I've accomplished. I do care for her, but I care more for my career and my reputation. I think she'll get over things, but the guilt does eat at me. What do you think? — Dr. Harry B., Long Island, N.Y.

DEAR DR. HARRY: There aren't enough megabytes in my computer to tell you what I think — not everything that comes to mind and not in the exact verbiage that erupts from within. (This is, after all, a public medium, and my readers have sensitivities deserving respect.) Picture the scenario, if you will: a trusted and respected professional counselor (with an advanced degree, no less!) engaged by a client who entrusts to him the most personal details of her life's problems, totally confident his expertise and professional training will clarify the situation and heal her mind and spirit. There she sits — attractive, vulnerable, hungry for wise counsel. What does she get in return? Advances from the person she trusted. Sexual come-ons from her therapist. Confused and amazed, she then confronts the man, who denies making advances. I bet she was in a fragile state of mind! Things ended sadly, you say? You got off much too lightly, it seems to me. You might have been reported to the American Psychiatric Association or the American Psychological Association. As someone who's sat in that chair — trusted someone enough to share the most intimate facts, thoughts, hopes and dreams — I can almost feel palpably the betrayal you inflicted. Guilty, so much so that it eats away at you? Good. Far too mild a penance.

DEAR SUSAN: I really need to hear from mothers who had to leave their homes. After 20 years of marriage, leaving was the only way for me to take my next breath; as time went on, it became clear I had made the right decision. My problem is that above and beyond the many changes that occur post-separation/divorce, I also have to deal with being alone in an apartment without my children.

(I should say simply "without my children." That's all that matters.) My boys are college-age, independent and fantastic. But I can't seem to move past being part of their everyday lives. They are also at an age when hanging out with their mom isn't very appealing. Logically I know things will be OK; emotionally I feel I've lost them. I am dating, go out with friends, have a wonderful family, am healthy and have a great job. How do I get past this? I just can't seem to move forward. Your column has helped me get through some similar problems in past situations. Thank you. But I haven't heard from women who have left home. Are you out there? — Unsigned, Portland, Ore.

DEAR UNSIGNED: Before other women who've walked your path can pass along their wisdom, please consider mine. Left literally overnight a young widow and single mom who had been overprotected by parents and mate, I was catapulted into single life. On my own with 5-year-old Scott to raise and a paltry number of life lessons, every day was a learning experience. The going was slow, a beginner's fearful mini-steps, but the small person entrusted to me kept me moving forward. There was no choice. That was the demise of a poor little match girl — and the birth of an undependent woman.

And here, dear reader, is where our lives converge, where we are on our own, facing a choice. We can merely survive, or we can make more of ourselves and go on to thrive. It's not a matter of age, but stage. I can relate to your issue because it was mine. Actually, it IS mine. Scott is off on his own, still very much in touch with his mom yet very much his own man. I like to think that behind his independence is my own. (His epilogue to my second book tells of witnessing with pride his mom's growth.) It seems to me that your life is already full-ish but that you're seeing the glass as being half empty. Yes, your sons are on their own, but part of their DNA is your excellent nurturing, which brought them to this point. You wouldn't want them to be otherwise, no? I point you toward your personal interests and the good people you'll discover when you pursue them. You may be on your own, but you are not alone.

GROWING RESOURCE. There's a newsletter that's newsier than ever, expanding its coverage and deepening its relevance. I recommend it without reservation and hope you can taste its provocative breadth of issues. Give it a try, and let me know your reaction. Mine? It's a keeper.

It's from the Alternatives to Marriage Project (http://www.unmarried.org).

Write to Susan Deitz in care of this newspaper. She will answer all letters that come with a self-addressed, stamped envelope. Or you may e-mail her at info@creators.com. Write or e-mail her for your free "Declaration of Undependence" on parchment.

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