I had just packed up to return home when my phone rang. Whoever was calling me didn’t know my schedule. How could he or she? I hoped it wasn’t a robo call. They seem to know when I’m most wary of answering the phone. I heard the voice of a distraught woman whose incomprehensible words were bathed in sobs. Several minutes into her call, I understood one unmistakeable plea, “He texted me and broke up with me. How could he do that?”

Her rage otherwise rendered the balance of her dialogue futile. I didn’t want to interrupt; however, I did interject twice before she slowed her rapid speech and high volume that I wanted to listen more effectively. Might she take a deep breath?

“Are you at your office, sir? I need to talk about this now.”

Twenty minutes later, Monica strode into my office. By then I’d called home and unpacked my gear and outer garments. She sat down dramatically. She tossed her coat on another seat. She had a large coffee in her hands and took a sip. Knowing nothing yet about her, her outfit and makeup were disheveled. She grabbed my tissue box and hugged it close to her body. She was engaged into deep breathing to illustrate her drama. Time moved on but no words were said. Some people looking the part of an actor/actress in a dramatic play may be carefree about one’s gestures. I decided to offer a practical suggestion that a washroom was available. Monica leaped up and then yelled before sitting back down. She then spoke.

“Thank you for seeing me. It’s kind of late. Hope you’re not missing dinner.”

This outpouring of emotion did not blind Monica from a display of compassion.

No thanks, Monica. I’m glad you called. Clearly you needed help here and now. Dinner can wait. Have you eaten dinner, I asked?

“No, I didn’t. That jerk boyfriend and I were supposed to go out for dinner after work. I had just gotten home from work. He was to text me about the time and place to meet. He had discovered a new restaurant serving my kind of food. I love Mediterranean food. I barely took off my coat when he texted me. Not only was he not going to meet me for dinner, he no longer wanted to see me. He broke up with me by text. What a slime dog. I lost it. I texted him back asking if he was joking. He didn’t respond. I called him. He didn’t answer. I’m so ticked. I shook so badly, I slugged down two shots of whiskey. I felt my body almost convulsing. Was I dreaming? Oh my God, I’m beside myself. I found your name and number and decided to call. I couldn’t be alone.”

I sat and listened to Monica’s introduction in her initial session. Generally, I use a portion of an initial session to gather historical information. This, however, was a crisis necessitating good listening skills. I was challenged following a long day and yet I maintained genuine warmth, compassion and respect for Monica’s sudden and unplanned emotional nosedive. Early signs of a grief reaction were taking place here. However intense the experience right here and now, a heavyweight theoretical choice wasn’t the approach to meet Monica’s immediate need. There was time tonight to inquire about her future. Immediacy, what’s happening now between an aggrieved client and me was foremost. Monica asked for water, which I provided. My mind got lost momentarily in the vague symbolism of Monica’s denied repose of hot coffee and cold water. No way might I assume what she needed to deal with her heartfelt experience.

Monica, I asked, does anyone know about this situation? Family, friends?

“No, I live alone. My family lives in the south and northwest. I’ve no biological family here. I’ve some work friends. We’re not too close. I really didn’t think about who to call. I thought best to get some immediate help. I have to work tomorrow. I can’t miss, darn it, I’m mad. I let this man enter my life, sweet talk me into months of intimacy on many levels. I thought we had a serious relationship. Then he pulls this number. What a coward.

“Oh my God, I want to hit him in the face. How could he do this?”

Monica spent time quiet, deep breathing, drinking coffee and water.

“Look at what time it is. I must be ruining your evening. Thank you.”

Monica, before you leave, may I ask some basic questions relative to your mental/emotional state.

“I guess so. Do you think I’m crazy?”

No, I replied. Your response is probably normal given the abruptness of your experience. I ran through some lethality questions. She denied a plan to harm herself or go after the now ex-boyfriend. She agreed to see me the next day. If she begged off work, Monica could call for an earlier appointment. She graciously left. Room for concern left some unanswered questions.

Let there be peace on earth and let it begin with me.

Marshall Greenstein, a Cassadaga resident, holds a master’s degree in marriage and family counseling and is a licensed marriage and family counselor and a licensed mental health counselor in New York state. He has regular office hours at Hutton and Greenstein Counseling Services, 501 E. Third St., Suite 2B, Jamestown, 484-7756. For more information or to suggest topics, email editorial@observertoday.com.