This article is part of an ongoing series exploring the role of psychotherapy in addressing deep emotional wounds, particularly those rooted in early abandonment. Each installment follows one segment of a single, real-life case study. In the unfolding narrative of Patricia, we explore how past pain can resurface and ultimately begin to heal when nurtured within a safe and reflective environment. Today marks a pivotal moment as client and therapist meet for the first time, setting the stage for a transformative journey.
The Orphancy Lens, Part 2.
In this chapter, we observe the archetypal repetition that often haunts the abandoned child. Looking through this lens, we see the psyche’s attempt to master past trauma by recreating it in the present. We explore the orphancy loop—the unconscious drive to re-parent one’s history by carrying the ghosts of a lost home into the one being built today.
the client
Patricia was a 28-year-old single mother of two planning adoption for her unborn child, a son conceived as the result of a date rape.
Patricia contacted an adoption agency and completed an intake interview with their social worker, Jeanette Sizemore, who would guide her through the adoption process and help her navigate the difficult decisions ahead. Jeanette provided a list of independent local counselors who could offer pre- and post-placement support. She encouraged Patricia to seek ongoing help as she navigated the emotional complexities of the months ahead.
Soon after, Patricia met with a therapist for their first session.
the therapist
Patricia’s new psychotherapist, Elizabeth Campbell, specialized in treating clients coping with grief and childbearing loss, including the unique challenges surrounding adoption. As Liz waited for Patricia’s afternoon appointment, she reviewed the file handed to her by Jeanette Sizemore, the adoption agency social worker. Jeanette’s notes were detailed, describing the neat double-wide trailer Patricia and her daughters lived in, along with two Polaroid photos taken during her home visit.
The first photo showed Patricia standing in her kitchen behind a Formica-clad island. She was an attractive brunette, her jaw set with quiet determination.
The second captured Patricia with her two young daughters, both with dark brown hair like their mother’s. The girls appeared to be around four and two years old. Liz scanned Jeanette’s paperwork for the girls’ names and exact ages, finding the older girl was nearly five, the younger almost three. Curiously, Jeanette had omitted their names in the social history, instead using only the initials “B” and “M.”
“Interesting,” Liz thought. Why only initials? And why “B” and “M”? Was this a standard adoption agency practice, or did Jeanette have a personal reason for the cryptic notation? Liz considered whether Jeanette’s choice reflected an unconscious association with adoption as something messy or difficult—a connection Liz knew she would need to explore in her own inner work.
She opened her journal and made a note to ask Jeanette about the use of initials in her report, and whether it was standard agency protocol. Liz also added an association exercise to her personal to-do list—a prompt to uncover her own personal connections and feelings about adoption, as well as other elements emerging from Patricia’s file.
“A good analytical psychologist regularly checks the rearview mirror,” she reminded herself, smiling wryly at her choice of the word.
That’s two base chakra associations in as many thoughts, she told herself. You’d better go ahead and call your own analyst—keep yourself an honest woman.
client & therapist meet
The chime of Liz’s telephone rang once, signaling that her client had arrived. She stood and took a slow, reflective breath before opening her office door to greet Patricia. In the waiting room, Patricia rose awkwardly and offered a tentative smile. They introduced themselves, then entered the office together. Patricia chose a chair directly opposite Liz’s desk, placing the desk as a clear barrier between them instead of settling into the sofa or the more informal sitting area.
Liz made a mental note of Patricia’s choice and recalled the Polaroid from the social worker’s visit—Patricia had stood behind a counter in that photo. Was this a pattern? Was Patricia ‘re-orphaning’ herself in the room—cutting herself off from the potential mother-energy of a therapist to avoid the pain of later rejection?
Liz wondered if her new client habitually positioned barriers between herself and other women. Other women might also carry her feminine archetype projections—symbols of Patricia’s emotional knots and complexes. Liz was curious about what she represented to Patricia and looked forward to exploring that in time.
After giving Patricia a few moments to settle and acclimate to the new environment, Liz began orienting her to the counseling process. Though Liz had a clear Jungian leaning, her formal training was standard Marriage, Child, and Family Therapist coursework. Any depth psychology education she had came from her own initiative—and she had pursued it diligently. After thanking Patricia for coming, Liz shared her approach and invited Patricia to express her expectations and hopes.
“I’m here because the social worker said it was part of the agency’s services,” Patricia said, “and because I’ve been thinking therapy would be good for me. But I’m very sure about my decision to give up the baby—I don’t want to get into anything like you trying to talk me out of it. I’ve got my hands full with the girls as it is.” She leaned back, crossing her arms as if daring Liz to disagree.
Liz nodded sympathetically. “My only aim is to support you on your path. If we were in high school,” she said gently, “you’d be the football team and I’d be the pep club, cheering you on through the season.”
Patricia grinned. “That’s funny,” she said, “because I was pep club president in high school—until things at home got so bad I had to quit. Now the tables are turned, and I get to be the one supported.”
They exchanged smiles, and Liz knew the session was off to a promising start.
between intention & inheritance
“You mentioned your daughters, Patricia,” Liz began. “Tell me about them—and what your life is like right now.”
“Oh, they’re great!” Patricia replied, her face lighting up. “I couldn’t ask for better kids. But being on my own makes it hard, of course. It’s just the three of us girls now, and I don’t think bringing a boy into the mix would be a good idea—especially with the way he was conceived—and everything tied to that.”
She paused, her tone tightening, “I spent my whole childhood protecting my baby brother from our drunk dad. I’m trying hard to put all of that behind me. I want this baby to have a chance I can’t give him—not with all the trauma I’ve lived through, and not with the threat of his father eventually getting out of prison.”
Liz nodded gently, feeling the weight of what Patricia had just shared. She was about to ask how Patricia envisioned separating from that past when she realized she didn’t yet know the girls’ names. “I noticed Ms. Sizemore used only initials in her notes. What are your daughters’ names?”
“Brandy and Margarita,” Patricia said proudly, pulling out her phone and handing it to Liz. “Here’s a photo of them.”
Liz kept her expression neutral as she took in the image, masking her surprise at the girls’ names—both unmistakably alcoholic. “Oh, they’re beautiful,” she said warmly. “Do their names have any special meaning for you?”
“Not really,” Patricia said. “but I always loved that old song Brandy—my mom used to sing it. And Margarita is the Spanish form of Mary. Her dad used to call me his ‘spicy margarita baby’—from that Jason Derulo and Michael Bublé remix—and we were already calling her our spicy baby before she was even born. She gave me terrible pregnancy heartburn!”
Liz nodded supportively as Patricia spoke, but registered the names with a quiet, inward jolt. The orphancy lens revealed a tragic symmetry: Patricia, the daughter of a violent alcoholic, had christened her own children after the catalysts of her abandonment. This wasn’t merely a lack of awareness; it was an archetypal repetition. In the logic of the unconscious, Patricia was reclaiming the substance that had stolen her father, attempting to domesticate the ‘monster’ by giving its names to her most precious treasures. She was carrying the weight of the house she had fled into the one she was now building, unaware that the names themselves acted as an invitation for the past to haunt the present. By naming her children after the very thing that had caused her father to abandon his role as protector, she had created a profound orphancy loop—keeping the spirit of the house she lost alive in the children she kept.
Truth really is stranger than fiction, Liz thought. You can’t make this stuff up.
She decided to hold off on raising the alcohol connection—rapport needed time. For now, she listened attentively as Patricia shared more about her relationship with the girls’ father. The forty-five minutes passed quickly, the session flowing easily.
Patricia was articulate, warm, and grounded in many ways—yet also unaware of some deep inner currents. Liz felt a quiet anticipation. There was real potential here, and she hoped to witness Patricia’s unfolding.
Let it be so, she breathed, as they scheduled their next meeting.
In session: tales of transformation
- Intro: An Introduction to Tales of Transformation
- In Session, Part 1: Considering Adoption
- In Session, Part 2: Client and Therapist Meet
- In Session, Part 3: Message in Blood
- In Session, Part 4: Dream Work
- In Session, Part 5: The Analyst is Analyzed
- In Session, Part 6: Deliverance
- In Session, Part 7: Disconnected
- In Session, Part 8: Termination
CONFIDENTIALITY NOTICE
This case study is based on real-life therapy work and reflects the emotional and psychological truths of the process. To protect the privacy of those involved, all names and identifying details have been changed.
Leave a Reply