• Although these are true stories, all the characters in these stories have been changed enough to make them unrecognizable to you. Any resemblance to real characters is coincidental.

The woman started crying the moment she sat down in front of me.

“Please, read these messages,” she said, handing me her phone.

There were about twenty exchanged messages, with only six from the other side (each just one sentence long) and the rest from her, each one lengthy.

I skimmed through the messages and got the gist. As we had agreed, after 14 years of being in love, she sent him a letter, which he didn’t reply to. Then, a month later, she sent him a message (this was outside our agreement) asking if he had received the letter. He answered, “I got your letter. I didn’t reply because I didn’t know what to say. I’ve known for a long time that you’re in love with me, but I don’t want to be with you.”

“Alright,” I said after reading the messages. “Where do we go from here?” I gave her the phone back, and she dropped it in her bag.

“I don’t understand his messages,” she said.

“What don’t you understand?”. I asked her.

“His signals are so mixed,” she stated.

“Well, it seems pretty clear that he doesn’t want to be with you. His signals aren’t that mixed.” I said it gently.

She started crying even harder.

“They are! Every time we meet, he flirts with me. He’s given me many signs that he’d be interested, and I’ve pulled back. And now he sends me a message that he doesn’t want to be with me. It’s mixed signals!” she insisted.

“Okay. Maybe he used to send you different signals, but now he has said he doesn’t want to be with you. Whatever happened in the past, this is the reality now.” I said it gently but persistently. We had to start from somewhere.

She ignored what I was saying and kept crying, pulling tissues out of her bag. “I don’t understand him. Why doesn’t he tell me clearly what he wants? If he had just sat in front of me and said, ‘Hey, I don’t want to be with you’—fine. If he had just sat in front of me and openly told me that.”

• This is the moment to give you some background on this story.

I knew our hour would be challenging, but I also knew there was light at the end of that hour and that if I guided the conversation well, she would leave a bit more healed.

“What would have changed if he had told you in person?”

This question surprised her (actually, she wanted to talk about other things, but the success of these conversations depends on how much we can bring the person back to reality).

“Well… I would know.” She nodded her head confidently.

“You know now. He wrote it to you. What would you achieve by meeting in person?” I asked.

“To hear him say… that he doesn’t want me.”

“Hmm… considering you have it in writing, maybe that wasn’t the goal. Maybe you just wanted to see him in person?”

She was silent and cried because she knew I was right.

“I think you always want that,” I continued. “So I assume that’s your reason. But let me tell you: The hurt wouldn’t be less if you had met in person.”

“I know that it would hurt less if we met in person! It would be more fair after all these years if he told me to live.”

I just watched her and let her vent.

“And even if it wouldn’t hurt less, at least it would be different. More honest,” she said.

“Well, otherwise it would have given the same result, unfortunately. What he told you and what we have to face now.” I told her.

“I didn’t expect this. If I had known it would end like this, I wouldn’t have even sent him a letter,” she cried.

“Hm. I’m sorry that this turned out. But then you came up with the idea to change something after so many years. Also, the agreement was that you should prepare yourself emotionally for this scenario. That you will be rejected. I’m not sure that you thought about that option. Or that you prepared well,” I said without any condemnation but as a statement. Sometimes clients running away from their pain begin to blame the counselor, and the conversation goes in the wrong direction.

This surprised her, but that was my goal. My goal was to steer our conversation in a specific direction and not spend the short hour crying and consoling.

Since she was surprised and I had disrupted her plan of “If only we had met in person” or “At least if I hadn’t sent him a letter,” she realized she had to find another path—utterly unaware that I already had a planned route for her to follow and that every attempt she made would be gently sabotaged—for her good. I wanted to help this woman at all costs, and the best things are always found in reality and truth. As they say, the truth sets you free.

“He constantly sends me mixed signals. Sometimes, he’s so sweet to me, and other times, he ignores me. He doesn’t even want to talk to me.”

“Yes, I know. And I know that although it’s painful, at least you finally have a clear message from him, and I believe, even though you don’t see it now, that it’s good news. Now, after fourteen years, you can maybe think about letting him go and moving in another direction.”

She cried even more. Every time I insinuated that this might be the end of the 14-year romance that had been playing out in her head, it was another unbearable blow.

“But that can’t be. I’ve wanted him for 14 years!”

“I know. I understand.”

“I’ve wanted him for 14 years. Is it possible that I’ve been wrong for 14 years? Is it possible that I’ve misread the signals for 14 years?”

“Maybe you’re not misreading them,” I said. This was something I couldn’t know. Fourteen years is a long time, and a lot can happen. Maybe he did lead her on at times, or perhaps she imagined it all. But I could see that each new hurt closed her off from conversation. And this wasn’t just about the hurt she experienced from his rejection, but also about an injury to her ego, a doubt in herself that I would hear about in just a few seconds:

“Does this mean I’m crazy? Does he now think I’m crazy?” she asked.

“No. He thinks you’re in love. That’s what he thinks.”

For the first time, she started to listen to me. I had managed to reach her and break through her pain.

• But it’s interesting where she was going with this: What was far more important than what happened was what he thought of her. This is what it looks like when we have an object of worship. We lose every criterion for our happiness, healing, and life. Everything revolves around what our object of worship thinks and does.

“You think he doesn’t think I’m crazy?” she asked with hope in her voice.

“No, he doesn’t. Nothing in your messages suggests craziness, nor does he reject you as crazy. Why do you think of yourself as crazy? You’re the one saying it; no one else.”

“Because I feel like I’m crazy.”

“You feel that way because you’re hurt, and now you’re hurting yourself even more. But I can say that you’re afraid he’ll have a bad opinion of you.”

“Well, obviously, he has a bad opinion of me if he doesn’t want to be with me.” She started crying again.

“What I see is that the man has other interests that don’t include you. Maybe he’s in love with another woman, maybe he’s homosexual, unable to be in a relationship, or has other plans in life. People have hundreds of reasons why we don’t fit into their lives. And often, none of them say anything bad about us.”

“I think he thinks I should be placed in a psychiatric hospital.” I could see it: how she hurt herself and then cried because she hurt herself.

“My dear,” I said. “We’re not doing this. You’re not here to torment yourself, and I’m not here to participate in that. We’re here for me to guide you back on track and to stick to reality. And in reality, things aren’t nearly as catastrophic for you.”

She looked at me tearfully, waiting for a new balm for her wounded ego.

“Okay. Shall we agree to stick to something constructive? I mean, we could spend an hour tormenting you, but that won’t get us anywhere, right? So let’s stick to the reality that he doesn’t want you…” (Her eyes fill with tears.) “But that doesn’t have to have anything to do with you.” (The tears stop.).

• We humans are fascinating. The hurt we experience is nasty and painful (Someone doesn’t want us). But nastier and more painful is what our ego experiences: the thought that we’re not good enough. Someone sees us as bad. Someone doesn’t see our value. In psychotherapy and counseling, it’s necessary to deal with that. Not so much the external factor (someone doesn’t want us) but the internal factor (how our ego experiences it). That was the case in front of me. It was much worse how she experienced the rejection, than the rejection itself.

“People have hundreds of reasons for not wanting someone,” I continued. “And out of those hundreds, I’d say only a few have anything to do with us. Most of them have to do with the fact that we don’t fit into what they want in some way. Like I said, let’s say someone only likes black people; how could you fit into that?”

I saw that I had successfully diverted her attention from her pain and that, at least for now, she was listening to what I was saying.

“So, if we know that it’s doubtful that he rejected you because of you, you can be at peace. Yes, you’ve experienced an ego wound, but it’s not as big as you think. Just because you think he rejected you because you’re not good enough for him (her eyes fill with tears again) doesn’t mean that’s the reason. The reasons are probably something else.”

“And how do you know that?” she asked me a little belligerently.

“Because it’s statistics. People have their preferences, and we reject them because we don’t fit their preferences. Not because there’s something wrong with us.”

“But if he had just given me a chance…” she squealed

“What would you do? Turn black?” (I was alluding to the possibility that the guy might only want black partners. I’ve actually had several cases in my career where people prefer one race).

She laughed.

“Exactly. See, this question isn’t illogical at all. What if the guy wants only a certain type of partner, and you don’t fit that? What then?” We started on the path of reasonable assumptions.

“Well, he could have told me…”

“Told you what? ‘Look, girl, I only like black people. And only male black people.’ Who would tell you that?”

She laughed again, harder this time.

“He’s not gay,” she told me.

“How do you know? I have plenty of clients who are gay, and no one knows. People don’t tell others their secrets or what’s on their mind—what they want. But that’s not the point; we’re just joking a little. I’m just showing you how absurd it is to think he doesn’t want you because there’s something wrong with you when there are thousands of other reasons why you don’t fit his desires.”

“Well, I think it’s because of me… I think he doesn’t like me and likes other women.”

“You know, whatever you think is valid, but so is what I think. We don’t know either, but I deal much more with these human profiles, and I know people have different motives.” I told her firmly and professionally.

“I know he doesn’t like me. He probably finds me disgusting and thinks I’m crazy.”

“Unfortunately, you’re talking through your pain and an unproven idea. Besides, my version works in your favor—it helps you while your version only hurts you. This alarms me and raises the question: why doesn’t she want to help herself and keep doing things that hurt her? But that’s for another conversation.”

“So, what do I do now?”, she asked me.

“Accept this new reality and be happy that you have the opportunity to move on.”

She started to cry again.

“But I’ve wanted him for 14 years,” she said.

“And now you don’t have to want him for even one more year.” I told her

“I’ve wasted 14 years.” she cried.

“It doesn’t matter. People waste thirty or fifty years. And besides, you didn’t just sit and twiddle your thumbs waiting for him; you did things in those 14 years. You finished your studies, got a job, and tried dating…”

“Still, I feel like I wasted those 14 years. I missed all possible opportunities.” she was still in a phase of full self-pity.

“You didn’t. You’re young. According to today’s estimates, you have about seventy more years to live. Which means that everything you missed with men, you can make up for in the next seventy years.” I did a quick calculation based on her thirty years.

“Still. I feel terrible about it…”

“You should feel happy. Because from today on, you won’t waste another year of your life on something that can’t happen. At least not now.” I shrugged. It’s risky to say things like this because clients grasp at any straw of hope. However, in my experience, the things that are happening now are happening now as such. They can change in a few months or years. And considering that we stuck to the truth here, what I said (and risked the conversation going that way) was also true.

“I can’t be happy. I’ll never be able to be with him again!” she stubbornly insisted on her pain.

“Okay. I understand you. But if I were in your place, I would see all this as a final step towards a happier path. I know it hurts now, and you can’t see it, but you will. This is the first day of your new life, and I congratulate you on that.”

She thought about it and was silent for a while.

“This is so unfair,” she finally said. “He could have given me a chance. We could have been together for a while, and then if he didn’t like me, he could reject me.”

“And how would your relationship look?” I asked her curiously.

“Well, nice. We would enjoy being together.” She liked this topic. She cheered up a little to be able to talk about things she used to fantasize about.

“Enjoy being with someone who doesn’t want you?” (ah, I always spoil everything.)

“Yes, then he would want me, I guess.”, she said.

“Okay, right now, he doesn’t want you. We have to stick to the truth.”

She started crying again.

“But come on, since you want to talk about that potential relationship, can you tell me: how would a relationship with someone who once told you he doesn’t want you to look like?”, I persevered.

She thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I think I could convince him that I’m great after all.”

“I’m not questioning whether you could convince him. But how would you feel in a relationship with someone who once didn’t want you? And who didn’t want you for so long.” I asked her and kept quiet to give her time to think.

She didn’t like going there, but I wasn’t going to give up because only in reality was there salvation. She had to anticipate the future with him and maybe think: Well, this isn’t the future I want. This is terrible. Why would I do this to myself?

“I guess I’d be fine.”

“I don’t know. You could, but realistically, the chances are lower that we’d be okay with someone who has once or repeatedly sent the message that we are not what they want.

“I think I could get over it.” She was still persistent and tried not to think about it.

“Maybe. But people with such partners spend all their time in fear: Am I wanted now? When will I stop being wanted? Will I be rejected? And such things?” However, I was more persistent. This was important. Being in it is important because it gives us a clear picture of our future and, thus, a chance to change something.

“Well, after some time, I’d relax.” No matter that she kept saying the same things, she was no longer so convincing.

“Possible. But there’s also a chance you’d live in fear for a long time. Like when a dog bites you, and whenever you’re near that dog, you’re never quite sure.”

She changed the subject: “He should have told me openly that he wanted me long ago. Everything would have been different. I would have had opportunities with other people. I may have given up on him long ago.

How should I tell her this? “I need to tell you something… and it will be painful, but addressing these crucial things is important.”

She looked at me, terrified.

“He served a purpose for you. No one stays in love with someone for 14 years without moving forward unless it serves some purpose. You might think it’s about his greatness, but that’s not the case. He might be great, but not so great that your opinion of him has stayed the same for 14 years. In 14 years, we get bored with everything and stop idealizing everything. So, if you have kept him in your heart for so many years, it served you a purpose.”

“But he is an incredible man. He comes from a good family; he is hardworking, capable, and looks amazing. He truly is something special.” She liked this topic to – to admire the object of her adoration and to convince me of his exceptionality.

“I’m not saying he isn’t exceptional. But regardless, you have kept him as this grand figure in your mind. You’ve had hundreds of opportunities to see his flaws alongside his virtues.” I gently insisted on my story.

“The problem is that when I see his flaws, I think – that makes him even more exceptional. He’s not so perfect. And then I fall even more in love.” She told me quietly, a little embarrassed, aware of what she was doing.

“Yes, you see. You don’t allow yourself to see him as an ordinary person, of flesh and blood, with flaws. Because every time you undermine his magnificent persona, you’ll stop nurturing him in your mind. And nurturing him in your mind serves you a purpose.”

“I don’t understand.” she said.

“Well, here’s the thing. Everything we do has a background. The background of most human actions is usually fear or some kind of incapacity. Here’s one idea: let’s say you nurture him and maintain this romance in your head for so long because you’re afraid to step into real life. Into the real dating world. You might be afraid of what you’ll find there, where you haven’t been for a long time. Will they want you? Will they reject and hurt you… This is just one assumption. If you want, we can find out what he serves you, but it’s unnecessary. But we’ll just waste time today.” I told her this unusual lesson that required a longer conversation. Today, we just opened something new for her.

She looked at me as if I had said something new and interesting to her. She had come to talk about her pain and about how the object of her long-standing admiration didn’t want her, but we had taken a different path.

“I mean, we’ll waste time because what you do in the future is much more important than why you did some things in the past. But if you want, we can talk about that too.” I continued.

“I don’t know. I know that everything hurts, and it’s not fair.” and she wanted to ask burning questions about her.

“Does it help you to know that he very likely didn’t reject you because of you?” I asked her.

“Well, sort of…” she answered me.

“And the fact that he is an ordinary person, flesh and blood, with all his virtues, especially his flaws, which you have built up in your mind?” I continued with the questions.

“I know he has flaws.”

“And do you know that you avoid approaching his flaws because it serves you? You have to keep him elevated in your mind.” I have completed this series of questions.

She was silent. She knew this was true and knew what purpose he served for her, but she didn’t want to deal with it. However, I didn’t need her admission. I needed her to become aware of her subconscious. From the moment we become conscious of our subconscious, there’s no going back. From that moment on, we know that we don’t do something (or love someone, for example) because of some unknown reasons but because it serves us. For example, to enter the real ‘scary’ dating world.

“I don’t know where to start now. I spent 14 years thinking about him, and now he says he doesn’t want me. What do I do now?” Her eyes filled with tears again.

“Move on. If you’re wondering, I have a few suggestions: understand yourself and what purpose he served in your system for so many years, and overcome that. If it’s a fear of moving forward – we need to discuss that fear. If you think you’re not good enough – we need to talk about that. If you don’t know what to do without him in your mind, we’ll figure it out. But as I said, talking about what you will do in the future is the most important thing.” I said.

“Yes, I understand what you’re saying. And I think you’re right about this last part. I no longer know what to think about if I don’t focus on him. He was all my joy all these years. Something I dreamed about. How many times have I dreamt and imagined him? You know, I imagined our whole life and our children. I imagined everything: where we’d live, that I’d be part of his family, and our travels. I imagined everything.” She cried.

“Yes. I see that your thoughts were beautiful, and I understand why you got stuck in them. It’s a beautiful world. Only in that world is nothing real. Everything is just a thought, and nothing happens in reality.”

She cried even harder over her fate and living in a world of imagination for so many years.

“But let me tell you something. In the real world, there is so much good and beauty. And you know what: tangible. In the real world, you can do all those things with someone—maybe not with him, but with someone else. In the world of imagination, you can live and get stuck forever. You wouldn’t be the first or the last, for heaven’s sake. But at the end of the day, you have nothing from it except wonderful, imaginative events. And then, to relive them, you have to return to the world of imagination. And the more you are in the world of imagination, the less you remain in the real world to build something there.” I said.

I continued: “You will have to decide. In the real world, it’s harder because other people and events participate, but it’s tangible. In the world of imagination, it’s easier and prettier, but in the end, you’re left with nothing.”

We talked until the end of our hour together, and my client felt better. Before we parted, I asked her to write down a few things.

• People don’t necessarily reject us because there is something wrong with us; they reject us because they have their preferences.
• No matter how much time we have lost, we can always use the time ahead of us.
• Being in a relationship with someone who once didn’t want us can hardly be a relaxed experience. It’s usually filled with fear and anticipation of being hurt again.
• Keeping people elevated in our minds serves us a purpose. It’s not about their greatness but about their purpose.
• We can get stuck in the world of imagination. But in the end, we won’t have anything tangible. We will also have to keep returning to it to feel good, which means we will have less energy and attempts in the real world. Because of this, it will be more and more difficult to return to the real world
• What we do in the future is much more important than what we did in the past.

With love. Dee